Torn » h.s./marcel

Chapter 3: I Can't Be Partnered With It!

Chapter 3: I Can't Be Partnered With It!


Allie's POV


I was smiling when I walked into school that day. I felt like today was going to be pretty good. So far, it had been good: Daddy was still gone, Mum was still sleeping, Marcel have had detention, and the girls and I have had a fantastic sleepover. Ah, life was sweet.

The schedules were changed today. For some reason, the school always did this on a Friday. My new schedule went like this: Maths, Science, Physical Education, French, Biology, History, English, and Music. Fit lunch in there somewhere and you've got yourself a full day.

My smile faltered when I pulled out my maths books. No matter how good a day it is, I will still never like Maths.

I was alone for this class, unless you count Adam's moronic best friend Jeff and his girlfriend Tammy. I didn't like them, but I didn't choose Adam's friends.

I sat down in class in the front, as usual. I don't really know why I sat in the front, I just... did, I guess. I felt important up there.

I flashed Marcel a smirk as he walked by, to the back of the class. He winced and scurried to his seat, avoiding my look. That's right, keep walking, nerd.

Mr. Brickson, our Maths teacher, stood up and began to call roll. My name came up.

"Allie Ernest?"

"Present."

He finally finished and picked up a piece of chalk. I flinched as he scraped it down the chalkboard. I don't know why we couldn't have whiteboards or SmartBoards like the whole rest of the world. Chalkboards are so old-school, and annoying.

"Today, class, we'll be working on...." Mr. Brickson droned, and I struggled not to groan. Hey, that rhymed! A+ for you, Allie, in English! I'll make sure to tell Ms. Emerson when I get the chance.

I stopped listening after a while, and twisted around in my seat. Mr. Brickson didn't care, but I was still careful. The one disadvantage of sitting up front: the teacher can see your every move.

Bored, I wrote on a slip of paper and folded it up. On the front I wrote, "to Marcel" in fancy cursive. I passed it behind me. I could hear the note being passed, and someone poked my shoulder. Annoyed, I turned back around.

"Do you have a crush on Marcel or something?" Tammy snickered. "You're sending him notes?"

I scowled at her. "For your information," I retorted. "I sent that note to Marcel for a reason, and not you. But if you want one yourself, keep pushing it."

That didn't really make sense, but when you're around me, I gradually start to. Tammy pursed her lips and glared at me. I smirked back and turned back around.

"Marcel," Mr. Brickson said in his monotone. "What are you doing? Passing notes in class?"

I had to see his reaction. I looked back around again and saw his face pale. I tried not to laugh. Oh my dog, two detentions in a row! Marcel must be having a heart attack!

"S-Sir, I didn't--" he started to protest, but Mr. Brickson made the motion of "give it here". Marcel got up and gave it to him, his face similar to the one I had drawn on his locker. Heck, it was a spitting image!

Mr. Brickson read it out loud. "'Dear Marcel, I've always wanted to tell you this, but I never got the chance. I'm deeply in love with you. Xoxo, Tammy'."

The entire class burst out laughing, me included. I grinned at Tammy, who's face was bright red. "That's not true!" she shouted, only making it worse for herself. She glared at me. "I hate you, Allie," she snarled. Very unladylike. "What else is new?" I sighed, and turned my back to her.

Marcel's face was red himself, and he looked down. I had to laugh again.

"Tammy, Marcel, to the principal's office," Mr. Brickson said stiffly, and they left. Tammy shot me a heated glare, and I waved back at her prettily. Sweet, sweet revenge.


*~*~*~*


Marcel was back in time for music class. He and Tammy had missed all of their classes, except for the last one, I suppose. Tammy didn't have music with us, so I couldn't be sure.

I was seated in the back this time, near the music instruments. I love music, especially singing and the guitar. I rocked at both, so this class just fitted me.

But, unfortunately for me, Marcel sat in the back again, as he usually did for most of his classes. I didn't want to be anywhere near the dork, but I was stuck. So I just stared straight ahead and ignored him.

"Good afternoon, class," Ms. Drake said. We mumbled back a reply. Well, I stayed silent.

"For this semester I'll be partnering you up with someone else in this class for a song-writing project. I have the partners all here on this list, and we'll get started on the directions as soon as I'm done."

She cleared her throat, and began to call out partners. "Evan Riske, you'll be with Kylie Opal," she said, and so on and so forth.

I sighed through my lips and played with my pencil. I don't think the partners were alphabetical, so I prayed I had mine with Aaron Dowse. He was hot and popular, so s'all good.

But that's not what happened.

"Allie Ernest," Ms. Drake said. "You'll be partnered with...." I swear she paused for dramatic effect. Please be Aaron, please be Aaron, I thought repeatedly.

"Marcel Styles."

That was most certainly not Aaron Dowse. I would say the exact opposite, but my boyfriend Adam occupied that category.

"What?" I nearly screamed, to the snickers and giggles of the classroom. My hatred for Marcel was not subtle. "You have to be freaking kidding me!"

"No, Allie, I am not kidding you," Ms. Drake replied coolly. "Marcel is your partner, and you will work with them."

"B-But," I tried to protest, and I froze. I just stuttered! What?! "But I can't be partnered with... it!" I gestured to him expressively, still not looking at him.

Ms. Drake actually ignored me, and went on with the partner roll call. I felt my lips curl into a grimace, and I struggled not to tear at my hair. My life sucked.

"Now, here are the directions and restrictions for this project," Ms. Drake began, and I looked up. "There will be no love songs, or any songs concerning sex. No profanity, or any kind of disrespectful nonsense. The song cannot be about drugs, alcohol, or partying all night. Other than that, it can be about anything. You need to have at least one instrument, and one singer. You have this class period to start working on it, but all of the other times you'll need to meet up after school or schedule something. Are we clear?"

"Yes, Ms. Drake," the class muttered. I could tell most of us were disappointed by the restrictions.

Oh, crystal clear, I thought bitterly. There's just one problem... why do I have to be partnered with Marcel?!

"Get to work," Ms. Drake ordered, and kids scurried off to be with their partners. Their actually decent partners. I scowled. Not cool.

I forced myself to look at Marcel. He took out a journal silently, and he glanced at me, too. We both immediately looked away.

"So--" Marcel started, but I cut him off. I whipped around to face him again. "Listen here, loser," I hissed. "I don't want to do this project, much less with you. We're going to make this as quick and painless as possible. You will not speak to me, go near me, nor even mention my name. You will not speak of this project to anyone else. We will not meet up after school."

"Then how are we--" he started to ask in a small voice, but I interrupted again. "Whoa, kay, stop right there," I said, holding up my hands. "There's no 'we' in this project. Just 'you'. This is just you, because if you think I'll ever consider doing this with you--" I shuddered while saying "with" --"then you're pulling your own chain."

I looked away from him, folding my arms over my chest. I let out a huffy, annoyed breath. Marcel didn't say anything.

After a while, I glanced behind me to see what Marcel was doing to complete the project. He was writing in his notebook, occasionally pushing his clunky glasses up his nose. A few stray hairs fell in his face, and he brushed them away.

Good. He was doing it. He was a nerd, he would know what he was doing.

The bell rang, signaling the end of class, and the end of school. I breathed a sigh of relief. Thank goodness! Today was exhausting!

I hurried out of there, never looking back. I ignored the stares and snickers and pointed fingers. I rushed to my locker and packed everything up. I had to get out of there before the word spread.

"What's the rush, A?" someone asked me, making me jump. I slammed my hand into the side of my locker, and I cursed, waving it around.

"Nothing, I'm not rushing," I told Rachel quickly. I shut my locker so hard, the door rattled. Rachel raised an eyebrow, unconvinced, but she didn't question me. She knew better.

"You promised we could walk home together," she pouted, and I cursed again, this time mentally. Was that today? I seriously wasn't in the mood.

But with a sigh, I said, "Let's go, Ray," and we left that stupid school. I now hated it because of the unfair punishment it had given me.

Rachel chatted away the entire time to our bus stop, but I didn't care. I didn't say anything.

"Are you okay, Allie?" Rachel asked me out of the blue. I frowned at her. "Just peachy, why?" I asked.

"Well, you're not saying anything, and I just told you Kendall has a crush on Adam."

"That biotch has a what?" I gasped, and Rachel giggled. "I was kidding," she said. "I just wanted to make sure you were paying attention, and clearly you weren't." I glared at her. "Don't kid with me, Rachel," I said sharply. "I'm not in the mood." She left me alone.

After a couple of minutes of silence, we reached our bus stop. "See you tomorrow, right?" Rachel assumed.

"Of course," I replied, and we went our separate ways.

I slowed as I neared my house, and I was practically tip-toeing as I crept up the front steps. I peeked inside the window. I couldn't hear anything, nor did anything strange seemed to be going on. Holding my breath, I eased the door open and stepped inside.

No one yelled at me or threw anything at me, so I relaxed and ran up the stairs, as quietly as possible. I collapsed on my bed with a sigh of relief. I didn't really care where my parents were, as long as they didn't bother me.

I put in my earbuds and listened to some Taylor Swift on my iPod. I smiled as I softly sang along. Without meaning to, I thought about the project, and, regrettably, Marcel.

Marcel's a nerd, so he's supposed to know everything, right? Like, literally, everything. So he did know about music, right?

I hesitated, cutting myself off from the chorus of "Love Story". Marcel wasn't the cool kind of nerd; I bet he didn't even know who Justin Bieber was!

I sat up immediately. Ms. Drake took grades very seriously, and I knew if this was a semester project, this was going to be a pretty big portion of our grade.

I slapped my knee angrily. What was I thinking, giving it all over to Marcel like that! I was such an idiot! I'd practically doomed myself to an F. And I did not want to repeat the twelfth grade!

I let out a huge sigh to calm myself. I'd have to revise the rules with Marcel tomorrow. As much as I hated him, I did not want to be remembered as the popular, pretty girl that had to repeat senior year.

But only on one condition would I work with Marcel: I get to sing.