The Wrong Way Is Always Wright

(10) Looks Like Somebody's Temperamental

Millie~

Ever since the volleyball incident with Nick, there had been very little Ward vs. Wright action. Most of the student body had given up on us but we would still get the occasional stare when one of us would pass a Wright in the hallway.

As I walked to my Maths class, the streams of students parted with a clear of my throat. My heels clicked on the tiled floors as I walked and passed Nick and Ivy Wright who were standing next to a locker talking. Immediately, the halls filled with the gossip of 'do you think they'll have another fight?' and 'how can Millie Ward glare at someone as hot as Nick Wright'. That was by far my personal favourite. Sure, Nick Wright was good looking but he was quite simply Nick Wright and the thought of talking to him made me want to strangle myself.

My Maths classroom was flooded with chatter, indicating I was one of the last to enter. I took my seat which I had silently but very obviously reserved for myself during the first week. Some jock friend of Aiden decided to take it on the third or fourth day and let's just say that  they wouldn't be doing that again.  Aiden was still on my case about the whole sugar and spice nickname thing and according to him we were very much a couple. That boy wouldn't give up despite the countless brush offs and threats.

The teacher, Mr Ryans, entered the room, pulling me from my thoughts, with a large pile of papers. Immediately he started handing them out to us. 

"These are the tests you took last week," he began and I sunk in my chair. This will not be good. Maths had never been my strong point, exaggerating the point that I would never really thrive in the family business. I sighed as the dreaded paper landed on my desk, and cringed at the big red F that covered it along with the words, See me at the end of the lesson.

I leaned back in my seat as Mr Ryans began talking about some algebraic equation for angles in a triangle. When the bell rang, I slowly gathered my belongings after yet another lesson of gobbledygook. When the last student had left, I walked to the front of the classroom.

"You wanted to see me Mr Ryans?" I asked as he set his board rubber down on the large wooden desk.

"Millie, you're last test result was far below average and as far as I'm concerned, no other test you've done for me has been better," he said as he leaned against the desk, "Now, I'll get in touch with your parents and-"

"No!" I half screamed at him, dread filling me. If my parents found out about my bad grades I'm not sure what I would do. The fact that the family's multi-million pound company was based on maths didn't sit too well with the fact that I was failing the very subject. It wasn't that they would be angry at me but more of the fact that I would feel so much more disappointed in myself.

"No, I mean, couldn't you arrange a tutor or something?" I struggled, inwardly cringing at my suggestion, "I really wouldn't want to bother them with something like this,"

Mr Ryans sighed indecisively, "I'm not sure." My eyes widened as I panicked and searched my brain for something that could prevent him contacting my parents.

 "Please Mr Ryans, it doesn't matter who it is!" I blurted out.

He was silent for a moment, clearly thinking over what he was about to say. Either that or he was just torturing me.  "I'll see what I can do. Be here today after school please," he finished.