The Great Mystery Of Darwin Doore

01:"enjoying my pizza and netflix"

foreword
•_________•
All events and characters are owned solely by the authors themselves. Any likeness to other books is merely coincidental. Please refrain from copying or using parts or characters of this book as your own. You will be found and it will not be fun for anyone when you are.

chapter one:
"enjoying my pizza and netflix"
***

"Paige Smith?"

"Here, wishing I wasn't," I call out to the dumb substitute teacher who sounds like he devours teenage souls every morning along side his third helping of Honey Nut Cheerios. It isn't really his fault that I am so negative towards him. It's the class he's failing to teach.

Ever since the start of this school year, I have dreaded my fourth period class, U.S. History. There is something about it that makes me want to rip of Washington's weave. Maybe it's the idiocy of the people who came before me. I don't know and I don't really care.

The only person who can make me smile during that class is Roman Elmirian.

Roman has been my best friend since pre-school when I threatened to shove his fave in the sand if he didn't give me his goldfish. He gave the delicious snack to me and I ended up still shoving his face in the sand. Badabing. Badaboom. Here we are.

There is no doubt that Roman is attractive. He's got this sandy brown hair and dull blue eyes. His features are pretty much plain, but it doesn't make him any less handsome. The funny thing is, everyone thought he would end up ugly, but puberty hit him like a semi-truck full of Mentos and Coke.

I feel Roman nudge my shoulder and I'm forced to look at him. We sit at a two person lab table and he helps distract me from the horrors of U.S. History.

"Wow. Already hating on the sub? Prison changed you," jokes Roman with a cheeky smile. Out of the corner of my eye, I see a few girls glaring at me because of my closeness to him. If only they understood that Roman and me together as a couple was more impossible that Leonardo De Caprio winning an Oscar.

"I am in prison," I respond.

"I'm just kidding."

"Hello, Just Kidding. I'm Paige."

He rolls his eyes at my dad joke. I guess you can say I'm kind of obsessed with them. Even though I am definitely a girl and not a parent, I love using dad jokes in everyday conversation. When the cashier asks if I want my milk in a bag, I always say that I'd rather leave it in the carton.

One of my personal favourites is, "Two guys walk into a bar, the third one ducks." Do you get it? The two walk into a literally metal bar and the last on ducks under it! God, I need sleep.

"Well, Paige, I'm pretty sure your notes aren't suppose to say, 'Why the heck is the Civil War important to History? It's useless old crap,'" says Roman, smirking down at my composition book. "Have you ever heard of learning your history so you don't repeat it?"

"I call bull on that," I state smugly. Roman shakes his head, used to my hatred of this class.

"So are you still considering selling your eyes to science so you can meet Dylan O'Brien?"

I shrugged. "No, now that I think about it, I want to be able to actually see my little Dyl pickle and science wouldn't want my eyes anyway. They're too weird," I say, erasing my little hate comments on the Civil War and doodling a flower.