Bloodcurse

Chance

Monday morning introduces itself to me in the form of a Spanish quiz under the watchful eye of Misses Delgado - a no-nonsense woman in her mid-thirties who seems painfully overqualified to teach grammar to teenagers.

It would be a blatant lie to say my Spanish is any good, and by the time the bell rings I can barely keep the pen in my hand steady enough to write down my name on the paper. My chances of scoring highly on that test are slim to none, and I sigh as I deliver my work to the teacher before leaving for my next class.

High-school certainly hasn't lost its punch, and maneuvering through the corridors is an utter nightmare. Every few seconds, an elbow rams into my bag or my sides, and I trip over at least four crumpled up papers on the slick linoleum floor before I make it relatively unscathed to the biology classroom.

The room is divided into desks that seat two students, and I nearly sag to the ground in relief when I notice Freddie waving me over from one of the two tables in the back of the classroom.

"Hey, stranger!" Freddie greets me with a smile, moving his textbooks so I have a bit more space.

"You just saved my ass," I reply on a heavy exhale, dropping my bag on the floor next to me and leaning down to retrieve my own textbook. 

Freddie laughs quietly as I rummage through my bag. "I did, right? I'm so nice! Aren't you glad you met me in the bathroom a couple hours ago?"

"Oh, you have no idea," I scoff, laying my things out on the table. Freddie doesn't hesitate a second before he starts doodling flowers in the margins of my notes, and I watch him with a faintly amused smile.

"So, how are you getting on so far?"

"Well, I just failed a quiz."

Looking up from his drawings - which are surprisingly good - he gives me a wry smile. "I guess that answers my question."

I sigh, letting my forehead drop to the table. "How am I already flunking a class?"

"Do you need help studying?"

"That depends," I mumble. "Are you any good at Spanish?"

"Uh, yeah. It's only my first language, dude."

Lifting my head up rapidly, I stare at him as he grins at my dumbfounded expression. "Seriously?"

"Seriously," he says, adding heart-shaped leaves to the flowers on my notebook. "My Argentinian grandparents raised me, and they don't like to dole out scoldings in English."

Nodding with a sympathetic sigh, I grab one of Freddie's pens and color the flowers in. "My Dad does that sometimes. He'll just start ranting in Slovak, and I have no idea what he's even saying."

"He never taught you?"

I shrug. "No, he wasn't around much. He works a lot."

"Oh, that sucks... my grandparents may be major pains in the neck, but I'm still glad they were always there."

"Yeah, my family's a bit odd that way. Kind of like frogs. The moment they hatch, they're on their own."

Freddie chuckles with a bright grin. "Aw, that's so cute. And sad, obviously, but I mainly like the mental image of you as a little frog."

I snort a laugh, and we spend the remainder of the time until the teacher arrives working on Freddie's masterpiece, which ends up being a blooming flower vine that reaches all the way around the page.

When the class is over, Freddie waves at me as he heads over to the science wing for math, whereas I'm meant to find Mister Fraser's classroom for philosophy.