Ever After

Troubled Waters

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This chapter is in Jack's perspective.

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I think the window and I had become engaged overtime. I mean, I did nothing but stare into its eyes, mesmerized by the world beyond it, always wishing to just smash through and escape the classroom; of course, most married couples didn't dream of smashing through one another, but we had a special type of bond. I felt as if Mark had gotten engaged, too, with his pencil, for he was always writing with it whenever there was an awkward silence between the two of us - I swear, I once saw him write down the words "I am pretending to write something important," but that may have just been me.

It'd been three weeks since he'd tried to kiss me, and yet I still couldn't shake the thought of it. I wished it'd never happened, that he'd never asked for me to kiss him. I couldn't think straight still, was still struggling to catch up with my thoughts. He hadn't spoken to me since, so it must've been something traumatic for him - it was something traumatic for me, too. I didn't expect him to say it so abruptly, didn't expect for someone so shy to just come out and say, "Kiss me, you fool." I could still see his reaction, the way he'd stood so quickly, grabbing aggressively at his backpack (still just as disgusting as it'd been for the last two years he'd probably owned it), running down the stairs and through the front door, into the outside rain. I should've done something, should've at least apologized for not doing what he'd asked... but would I do it if I were ever given the chance again?

I sighed, deciding that I wouldn't let this get the best of me as Mrs. Jefferson walked up and around her desk, sitting on the edge of it as she hole-punched a pile of papers.

"Good morning, class," she said cheerfully, earning a disgusted groan from all of the kids that would rather be in bed (a.k.a. everyone). "Did you all remember that your science test is today?"

Another disgusted groan, followed by a frantic look from Mark (which my window had displayed in its beautiful reflection). I shot a look over in his direction, noticing his cheeks flush just as adorably as they had when I'd denied his offer for a kiss, as he flipped through his binder, finding his science notes. I could tell by the way he raced through the pages that he hadn't studied (which he always made sure that he did), meaning that I had an advantage on top of him, for I, being the good student I am, listened to the periodic table song twice. (Not once, but twice.)

"This test," Mrs. Jefferson explained, thoroughly delivering each paper to each student, "will be worth thirty percent of your overall grade. Remember - report cards are to be sent out to your parents next week, so I hope that all of you have studied." She approached our table, grimacing down at Mark's papers. "Mister Fischbach, put those notes away, for you surely won't be needing them unless you wish to fail this test before you even begin." Shyly, Mark tossed his binder into his backpack, struggling with not pissing himself in spite of nervousness as he did.

Thirty minutes into the test (with fifteen minutes remaining) and I felt like I'd aced it - of course, my judgements were most likely incorrect, for this was my first time studying (and I was probably getting my hopes up). Either way, I felt confident, especially when I turned over to Mark's paper, showing numerous skip questions and the same frantic look. I took the time to glare down at the question he was currently stuck on - fortunately for him, it was one that I knew the answer to.

"Calcium can be used as a plaster for setting bones," I said, hoping a small bit of my assistance would wound our relationship's scars.

"You're going to get me in trouble," he warned, staring up at Mrs. Jefferson (distracted by a student asking for help) while also writing down my answer.