The Swap

Allison 3.3

It's about nine o'clock when I finally see the school building loom over me. His phone was locked, so I had to find and use a public map, a relic of the past. Upon entering the building, I realise I don't know what class this guy has. Before I can check his bag, I see the conciërge wave at me.

"You're late, Mr. Marlowe," he grumbles as he types something on his computer and prints out a small red slip of paper.

"S-Sorry."

"Apologising for it? Don't think that'll get you out of trouble," he responds without lightening up, "This will only make your meeting with the principal worse for you, y'know?" He waves the slip of paper around before pressing it on the table.

"M-Meeting?"

"What did you expect after causing such a commotion?" the man bellows.

Oh right, he did do that yesterday. Why am I feeling guilty for that?

"Yeah, that's what I thought," he says when I stay silent, "You have a meeting this afternoon at four o'clock."

"What? But I can't-"

"Then you'll make time for it, Zachary. Now get to class."

"Y-Yes sir... Um, by the way, could you tell me which lesson I have right now?"

Argh, that was so bad! At least he told me Zachary Marlowe has chemistry now.

I walk up the stairs, thinking about what he did yesterday. I totally forgot, but he totally did try to punch that boy - I believe it was Damian - during history. Why do I have to take the blame for that? I need to hurry up and get my life back so this guy can get the punishment he deserves!

Lost in my thoughts, I accidentally bump into two freshmen in the hallway.

"Oh, s-sorry about-"

The two students nervously scurry away.

When I reach the chemistry classroom, I take a deep breath. Ok, Allison, just don't attract too much attention and you'll be fine. Just apologise for being late, sit down, and wait it out. I open the door, all heads turn to me.

"S-Sorry I'm late, ma'am," I mumble as I hand over the pink slip.

The teacher accepts the paper cautiously.

I look around the room for an empty seat, and both to my relief and horror, a red-haired boy waves me over. I anxiously walk over to him, with all the eyes in the whole class still following me until I sit down.

"Well, a good morning to you," the boy chuckles, "Did your alarm fail or something?"

This is bad, real bad! I don't know how Zachary talks with his friends! What the heck am I supposed to do!?

"G-Good morning. Yeah, m-my alarm did fail..." I mumble as I rummage through Zachary's bag.

Wait, this guy didn't even pack his chemistry notebook.

"You need a sheet?" the boy asks, ripping one out of his notebook without waiting for an answer. He's surprisingly different from Zachary, how are these two boys friends?

"By now, you must have collected enough sheets of my notebooks to make an entirely new notebook."

I chuckle softly. Was that chuckle too feminine? Should I have said something back instead?

I grab a pen from Zachary's case. Does he even use a pen?

I begin jotting down a few things on the board, but then I realise there's no way this delinquent participates in class or takes notes, right? I look down at my notes and begin crossing them out.

"Why are you crossing out your notes-" he pauses. I look at him, trying to appear calm, "Since when do you write like that?"

I look back at my notes. That's my handwriting, crap! I hastily cross out the notes so much you can't recognise anything.

"Woah, are you alright? I'm sorry for commenting on your handwriting, it just caught me off guard."

"N-No, I'm alright," I sigh, "J-Just a bit tired, hehe..."

I flip the page.