The In-Between

✎ Chapter 8

The sound of Ms. Jones' ruler tapping against the whiteboard snapped the class out of their post-lunch daze. "And that's basically the whole assignment. You have nine weeks to get this done, so find a partner and start planning. I expect nothing less than your best work," she said, before turning away from us and easing into her desk chair.

I sank lower in my seat, already dreading the group work. Out of all the classes, this was the one where I didn't have Maeve, Iris, or anyone else to pair up with. Figures.

The room was already buzzing with activity as chairs scraped against the floor and everyone rushed to find their partners. Laughter and quick conversations erupted as people started forming their pairs. I scanned the room, catching glimpses of classmates settling down with their usual friends, but I knew there was no one here I could count on. Everyone seemed to gravitate toward someone else, leaving me lingering awkwardly.

I sighed, standing up. Maybe I could ask Ms. Jones if working alone was an option. I mean, sure, I could probably manage this on my own without anyone slowing me down. It's not like I didn't know how to research or put together a presentation. I started to make my way to the front of the classroom, weaving between desks, when I felt a light tap on my shoulder.

I froze mid-step, turning around slowly to see Marcus standing behind me. His head was slightly bowed, his eyes avoiding direct contact with mine. I blinked, momentarily taken aback—Marcus was always quiet, sitting a few rows back, never really saying much unless Ms. Jones called on him.

"Uh, hey," he mumbled, his voice soft but clear. "Want to be partners?"

My eyebrows shot up in surprise. Of all people, I hadn't expected him to ask me.

"Yeah, uh– sure." I glanced over his jeans and blue polo-shirt, paired with some neat sneakers. "Lets go to your table."

Marcus maneuvered his way back through the maze of tables, slipping silently into his usual spot in the back corner of the classroom. I hesitated for a moment before sliding into the seat at the table next to his.

"Do you know what we're supposed to do?" I asked, glancing up at the whiteboard. Ms. Jones had scribbled the outline of the assignment across it.

Marcus didn't look up. He pulled a thick textbook from his bag, flipping it open with a practiced ease, then set his laptop down beside it. "Yes," he replied simply, as though the answer was obvious.

I bit the inside of my cheek, feeling the awkwardness stretch between us. His answer was efficient, no small talk, no jokes. It wasn't like talking to Maeve or Iris, where the conversation just flowed naturally. I tried to shake off the discomfort, leaning forward to get a better look at the board. We had to present a comprehensive report on an aspect of the Civil War—something broad enough to fill nine weeks, but focused enough to be manageable.

"I can stop by the library after school," I offered, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear. "Maybe pick up some books on the Civil War, find a few resources we can use."

Marcus didn't hesitate, his eyes glued to his screen as his fingers flew over the keyboard. "Okay." He typed with such speed and precision, it was almost hypnotic. For a second, I wondered if he was even paying attention to what I'd said. His brow furrowed slightly as he focused on his laptop, the keys clicking steadily beneath his fingertips.

I fiddled with the edge of my notebook, feeling a little out of place. I wasn't sure what to make of Marcus. He wasn't being rude, but he wasn't exactly trying to make things easier either. There was no sign of the awkward small talk or the effort to fill the silence that I was used to in situations like this. It was just... quiet.