Camp Wisahickon

Chapter Twenty Five

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I stared at the door in front of me, my fingers fiddling with the hem of my shirt, a knot of nerves settling in the pit of my stomach as I stared at the wood that divided me from him. I knew he was already inside: I could see the back of his head from the little glass window on the door. And even though he broke my heart three weeks ago, even though he got me my first detention, I didn't feel a burning hatred when I looked at his messy hair from the little window.

I felt nervous. Partly because I knew that hiding under the surface of the little anger that was there, was just hurt; but mostly because I already knew how my body reacted to him. When I saw him, I wanted to feel his arms wrapped around me. I wanted him to tell me that he was lying when he told me he didn't care about me in summer. I wanted him to tell me that he thought about me just as much as I thought about him.

To rid myself of these thoughts, I shake my head and stand up straighter, my hands going to my side. It was pathetic, how much I still wanted him, even after he hurt me the way he did. It was easier to ignore when he wasn't around, but now that he went to my school, I had a feeling it was going to be a hell of a year. But despite the obvious feelings I still had for Carter, I told myself to keep my chin up, be strong, and not submit to him so easily. He doesn't care about you, I had to chant in my head, he said it himself.

Finally, I gather enough strength to open the door and walk in, keeping my lips in a tight line and my eyes trained on the teacher in front. Mr. Peterson, the music teacher, looked up from his book at the front of the room and scrunched his eyebrows at me. I was sure he wasn't expecting me to be in detention: after all, when I'm at school, I'm the epitome of a perfect student.

"Amelia?" Mr. Peterson questions as I shut the door behind me. "Are you here to talk to me?"

I can feel Carter's gaze burning a hole through the side of my head, and the few other kids who managed to get detention on the first day of school snickered from the back corner. I walked up to his desk and shook my head. "No, sir. I have detention."

He looks even more shocked by what I just said, and his eyes dip down to the sheet until he finds my name, but the surprise doesn't wipe away. "Would you look at that," Mr. Peterson mumbles, then looks up at me and gestures to the seats. "Well, take a seat then."

I turn around and finally meet Carter's intense stare, his eyes begging me to come take a seat next to him. But instead, I sat a few rows away from Mr. Peterson's desk, several seats away from Carter. I could hear the audible sigh that escaped his lips when I fell into the seat, and tried to ignore the feeling of his eyes on me the whole time.

In an attempt to busy myself with some work, I took out my Calculus homework and began working on it. Halfway through my worksheet, a knock came from the door, and Mr. Peterson walked over to get it. Another teacher stood there, explaining to him in hushed tones with underlying urgency, and Mr. Peterson mumbled something before turning back into the room.

His eyes land on me before he announces, "I have to go tend to an issue with Mr. Lyons. Amelia, you're in charge. Make sure no one leaves this room until I come back."

With that, before I could protest or even open my mouth, Mr. Peterson slipped out of the room. Immediately, the atmosphere shifted, and the kids in the corner began talking and laughing amongst themselves, moving to sit on top of the desks instead of sitting in their seats. I looked back down at my worksheet and tried to continue despite the noise, but the sound of a chair scraping against the floor stopped me.

Carter got up from his seat and walked over to me, moving so he was standing in front of my desk. Despite his overpowering presence, I continued to do my worksheet, keeping my eyes glued to the paper on my desk. After a moment, he sighed, and snatched the paper off my desk. I looked up with narrowed eyes at Carter to see him dangling it above my head with a slight smirk on his lips.