A Year Being the Cheerleader

56.

I stare at the laptop screen, not believing my eyes. Today is the day SAT results come out and I am online, looking at my score. I don't know if I should cry or just shrug. The principal even spoke about his faith in me yesterday with my exams. I can't believe this. It's mind numbing and I still can't figure out why. Is there something wrong with me? Shouldn't I be jumping up and down or something?

Ramona didn't even make it to get her SAT results.

That is the only thing swimming in my brain at the moment. According to my teacher/therapist/cousin/coach, I am torturing myself. But I can't help it. It's not something I do voluntarily.

There is then a knock at my door which breaks me out of my reverie.

"Come in," I say, knowing by the impatient knock that it is Nate. Boy, if I didn't know better, I would think that is around more often than when we were younger. Or is he?

"Hey," he says as he peeks through a crack in the door. Suddenly, he hastily comes in and close the door behind. "What's wrong?"

He comes over to my desk and puts both his hand on my forehead. His eyebrows crease with worry and I have half the mind to smooth them out with my finger.

I catch a glimpse of myself in my full length mirror and realize how white as snow I look. I naturally have pale white skin, that needs extensive tan for it to even last a week, but that looks sickly pale. Does thinking about Ramona do that to me? Or is it because I fell asleep in the bathtub and went to my bed this morning resembling a prune? Most likely the latter.

Nathan looks down at me with concern in those blue orbs of his. I smile at him for his benefit and mine. It is nice to know someone actually cares.

"I'm okay," I tell him with confidence. "Just had a rough night. What is your SAT score?"

His eyes light up by the mention of his SAT score. He grabs me for a bear hug. Being shorter than him, my face ends up buried into his chest, right under his chin.

"My score is 2100, which is sick," he says as he releases me, excitement making him squeeze my arms a little tighter than normal, but the excitement diminishes as he stares at me. "How much did you get?"

I shrug and nod to the laptop. He lets go of me immediately and I open the device to show him my score. His eyebrows rise as he turns to look at me.

"I don't understand," he says thoughtfully as a frown makes its way on to his face. I then tilt my head looking at his stunning features. I then wonder how he would look with glasses. I bet he would still be the hottest guy on the planet. I blush. There is one thing for your best friend to be hot and it's another to actually think that best friend is hot. For some reason, it seems less friendly and more on the intimate side. I am still trying to figure out the reason. "...you don't look happy at all."

"Um..." I bite my lip, feeling embarrassed that I wasn't listening, but instead lost in my thoughts which mainly revolve around him. "Could you please repeat that? I didn't catch what you're saying."

"Are you sure you were not just ignoring me?" I nod and his eyes smirk at me as he twists those pink lips of his. "Okay then, where did you not hear?"

"Could you start from the beginning for me please?" I smile sweetly at him and he smirks.

"I would love to, but my English is not the best," he says sitting on the edge of my bed. He grins at my really? look. "So I will summarize."

I roll my eyes at him. This guy cannot be serious.

"Oh wow, Mr. Intelligent," I say sarcastically. "I would have never thought that."

He rolls his eyes at me. "You're just lucky your cute, less I wouldn't even be listening to this right now."

I immediately blush at his amused expression. Did I just say he is cute? Yes, yes I did.

"So you think I am cute?" I hit him playfully on the arm and he laughs. "Is that really meant to hurt me?"

"Maybe," I say and show him my tongue. He laughs even more at my childish behavior. "Anyways, hurry up. I want to get ready for my family dinner tonight."

"Lucky you," he says with a smile, but I know he enjoys family outings just as much as I do. Which is zero. They are the worse. "I just found it funny how you here have a perfect score and look so down."

"I just had a rough night, okay?" I tell him looking down at my bare feet.

"What do you mean by a rough night?" He asks and he drags me into his lap and I let him. His chest is quite comfortable.

"I don't know," I tell him truthfully. "I am just as puzzled as you are."

"Does it have something to do with your mother?" He grits out and I nod in his chest as he carefully pulls back my hair to look at the bruise along my hairline.

"Promise me you won't say anything," I look up at him with a warm smile to show him I am okay. "College is soon."

"I can't make those promises, Am." He states before burying my head into his hard yet comfy warm chest. I nod anyways, trying hard to not crack. I don't want to be weak. College is soon, I will be gone and it will end. Or at least, that's what I hope will happen.

1999beauty
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