FAKE

Monday -- 14:43

What the fuck are osteichthyes?
I stare down at the biology homework I told myself I would be able to finish in class; but, before I can write an answer, my teacher tells us we can pack up our stuff. Thank God.

I take one last look at the textbook, then at my biology notebook. I got about half of the assignment done. That's good enough to hand in.

As soon as I zip up my bag, the bell rings, and I'm walking towards the door.
"Wait," I hear someone say. It's Mrs. Statheim. She isn't talking to me though, so I continue towards the door. "Marie," she says. Shit.
I turn around. She's staring at me from her desk.
"Yeah?" I ask. I can barely hear her over the sound of kids walking out behind me.
"Do you have a minute? I'd like to talk to you about something I've been noticing in your work ethic lately." Are you fucking kidding me? I look at the clock, 2:45, thinking about the people that could be waiting for me in the lobby. I look back at her. 
"Uh... I can't today," I lie, "My mom is picking me up in like 30 seconds. I have an appointment."
"Oh, alright," she says, before handing me a folded paper. "Just talk to me soon."
"Will do," I smile. "Bye, Mrs. S."
"Have a good night, Marie."

I get to the lobby and see Deirdre across the room. Next to her stands Clarissa, who beckons for me to come over. I shove the paper Mrs. Statheim gave me in my pocket and walk to them.
"Hey," Clarissa says, smiling. "Where's your boy toy?"
I feel my face get a tad red, or I feel a wave of heat, or something else; but, it's January.
"What the fuck?" Deirdre says, looking up from her phone. As she flicks her eyes towards Clarissa, the amber in them flashes in a way that resembles a cat. "Why would you call him that?"
"I don't know."
"Never do it again. You're so weird, oh my god." Deirdre smiles a bit, which prompts Clarissa to laugh a little. I can't tell if it's fake.
No one says anything for a second, then someone touches my shoulder from behind. I jump, startled, then realize who it is. They trace the letter H on my back, then the letter I.
"Hi."
I turn around, and my boyfriend, Lawrence, kisses me. He tries to hang on to my hands, which are mostly hidden away in the sleeves of my jacket. Awkwardly, he holds onto the cuffs of them anyway, like he has to hold something. It's a bit weird, but sweet.
"Hi," I say, my forehead pressed against his. I'm 99 percent sure he has some sort of styling product in his hair, because the part of it that touches my forehead feels like a chicken bone. But, he's cute, so it makes up for it.
"Get a room," his friend says, standing a few feet away. I glare-smile at him, then look back at Lawrence.
"How was your day?" He asks. I notice his lips are chapped.
"How was yours?" I respond. He laughs a little and looks at me again, this time with a toothier-grin. All I can notice now is the dryness of his lips.
"Did you ask your mom yet?" He's talking about him being able to come over, and finally meet my parents.
"Yeah. Yeah, I did."
I haven't yet.
"Really?" he says, smiling bigger.
"Really." We stare at each other for another moment before his bus pulls up outside.
"Gotta go," he says before kissing me again, his chapped, paper lips against mine. Then he's throwing his bag over his shoulder. "I'll text you. Tell me what night I can come over."
"'Kay, I will," I assure him.
"Love you," he says.
I smile back.
He jogs to catch up with his friends and walks out. As soon as the door closes behind him I'm whipped around by Clarissa.
"What the fuck, Marie?" she says.
"What?"
"Why didn't you say 'love you too?'"
I furrow my eyebrows and tilt my head a little.
"Because we're at school, and I thought it'd be weird?"
She squints at me and seems to scan my face, like my freckles confuse her.
"Obviously not, if he did it."
My phone vibrates and I look to see my mom telling me she's parked outside.
"Whatever, my mom's here," I say, silently thankful. Clarissa is already talking with Deirdre again by the time I say bye, but Deirdre barely looks at her.
I put my phone back in my pocket as I walk away and feel the paper Mrs. Statheim gave me. I pull it out. It's the last biology quiz we had. 45 is at the top, written and circled in red pen. I look at my mom, who's staring down at her phone in the car.
Without taking another look at the paper I shove it back into my coat pocket, and walk out the door.