a beautiful mistake | s.m [✓]

7

Shawn's POV:

I watched her in the halls every day after that. Her friends gave me dirty glares even if I peeked a look at her, but I didn't care.
She seemed to return back to normal. She never said anything about it and neither did I.

I wish we had.

I tried multiple times to approach her. Though it had only been three days, I hoped she would have answer. Just anything.

I wanted to have an actual conversation and see the crinkles by her eyes when she laughs really hard.

I needed to get her to forgive me. So, I didn't talk to her. Instead, I walked up to one of her good friends (or at least who I assumed was).
I tapped the blonde girl on her shoulder, making her spin to face me quickly.

"Oh god," She immediately mumbled, wanting to turn away already. I sighed slowly, this was going to take a while.

"Can you help me?"

"Yep, the exit is that way." She pointed behind me. I held back the urge to roll my eyes.

"No.. Can you get into Grace's locker?" I hesitantly asked, hoping it would be easy.

"Yeah."

"Can you let me into it?"

"No." Great.

"You don't understand."

"Oh, but I do." How was she friends with this thing?

"Fuck off for a moment, okay? I just need to get into her locker." She looked taken back by the sudden use of language, letting her ego drop a little.

"Why?" I breathed in through my nose, weakly clenching my teeth. This girl just does not get it.

"I need to turn in one of her papers, alright? I'm trying to help her grade." I scoffed, shaking my head. She almost laughed, beginning to walk away, leaving me there.

"Are you coming or not?"

*****

     "You sure she has algebra right now?" She nodded in reply again for the third time, starting to get annoyed.

"Don't tell her about this. I don't need you spreading anything."

Hey, I still have a small reputation to keep, too.

She didn't respond, focusing on spinning the dial of who I assume was Grace's purple lock. She finally pulled on it with a loud click, sliding it out of the hole in the locker.

She lifted up on the black handle, the hinges on the red locker making a creaking noise as the the door shuttered open.

I wasn't surprise to see Grace's locker completely organized. She was the stereotypical nerd; All A's, insanely organized, even slightly advanced in AP classes, just an all-around good girl.

Never got sent to the principal's office, except for that one time when the principal wanted to talk to her about tutoring another student in her grade who was failing.

She accepted the offer, of course.

I turned my head sideways, skimming over the neat writing on each side of the binders. It was labeled by class, in order of what she had next. Her next class was always on bottom, which meant she always just set her recent binder on top and grabbed from the last of the stack.

I gripped a blue binder that read English Language Arts on the side in neat black letters. I slid it out from the stack, making sure I knew where it was supposed to be.

I glanced up before I searched the binder, seeing her friend still staring at me. I think her name was Abigail but I knew she had a nickname. Maybe Abby?

"You know you can leave, uh,—"

"Gabrielle. I go by Gabby." Close enough.

"Yeah, Ab— uh, Gabby. You don't have to stay, I know how to lock a locker." She shrugged, seeming to not have noticed my slip up.
She slowly walked away, glancing back a few times before finally leaving.

I opened the binder, folding back the cover before flipping through the pages. I pulled out a folder, setting the blue binder down quickly. If she mixed up my note with hers, it must be folded, right?

Sure enough, there were notes crammed in the front of the rest of the papers in the folders. I grabbed two, unfolding them.

One was some type of poem and the other was a long story. I picked up another, which was a poem again.

What was our assignment? I don't know.

Oh well, as long as she gets a better grade than she has now. I shoved the rest of the notes into the pocket and slipped the folder in the binder once again, shutting it all. I lifted the others up in the locker, sliding it in the correct place.

Quickly glancing over the contents, I decided it looked fine and almost how it was before I got here. I grabbed the dark colored lock off an inside hook, slamming shut the locker before clipping the lock into place.

I jiggled it around to make sure it was locked, then walked away with a folded piece of paper in my hand.

I jogged down the stairs, turning left to another descending flight. I was in the layer under the main floor, which was where her language class was. The teacher was alright but allowed very few slip ups. I hope she'd let this one go.

I hesitantly knocked on the door, knowing it was her lunch hour as well. A faint come in sounded from the other side, making me slowly turn the knob.

"H-hi Mrs. Larenti, I need to speak to you about my friend." She looked rather confused but motioned for me to sit, waiting for me to start.

"It's about Grace Winters, she uh didn't get a good grade on the last assignment." Mrs. Larenti nodded, taking a sip of her drink.

"I don't know what she handed in. Wrong thing, maybe. She seemed confused as well when I gave hers back." It was now my turn to nod before I spoke up.

"She did— she was really sad about the grade, you know? I came here to give you her real poem because she didn't want to do it herself, said she already felt stupid for turning in something else." So maybe it was a slight lie.

"That is very kind of you, Shawn. Leave the note on my laptop and I'll check it over by the end of the day and enter it in, alright?"

"Thank you so much. She's going to be relieved and will appreciate it a lot." I assured her again, saying goodbye as I walked out the door.

Now, we wait.