Dear December

Chapter 9

History is absolutely awful.

I spend the whole hour watching as Benjie and Daniel talk, grinning their heads off like two idiots. And me? I was put with Becca: the ginger girl, a friend of Salim's, who Jordan doesn't want to speak with and who also saved me on day one of 'Help! I'm failing calculus and can't keep up with my homework'. We'll just call it school for now though.

It's not that I don't like Becca, because I do. It's just that  Benjie looks like he's having so much fun compared to me. Daniel must really be cracking the funnies today. I mean, how can someone possibly be so smiley when learning all the dates and times of the Cold War? No offence to those who enjoy it, of course, but I only took History to avoid the black and white clutches of Geography lessons.

Becca's high pitched voice interrupts my childish complaining. "Are you friends with Jordan?"

I push the chin off my hand. "Umm, yeah?"

She nods her head, slow enough for me to notice how nervous she seems, and continues her question. "Can you tell him something for me?"

I blink. "Sure."

She takes a deep breath in, causing me to drum my fingers on the table top. "Tell him that I'm sorry."

I pause.

"You know he doesn't want to speak to you, right?"

Her face crumples into a discouraged heap and I immediately regret my words. I guess it did sound a little blunt, but I didn't mean it to come out harsh. "Wait, why are you sorry?"

She starts fiddling with the split ends of her fiery hair, twisting them between her nimble fingers. "Well I uh-" She clears the nonexistent catch in her throat. "It's not really your business-"

I stop flicking through the topic leaflet. "Apologies. How am I supposed to tell Jordan you're sorry if I don't know you're even saying it for?"

She tucks her hair behind her ear, revealing a row of stud earrings and golden hoops. "Well, just tell him I'm sorry," she says, eyes not meeting mine. "He'll know what it's about."

"He already knows you're sorry," I deadpan.

She hesitates. "Then why won't he speak to me?"

"I don't know. Maybe because he doesn't forgive you?" I say, "this conversation would be flowing a lot easier if I knew what we were talking about."

Becca rolls her eyes. "I'm not telling you," she says, "this is between me and him."

I'm not sure I like this Becca anymore. She's rubbing me the wrong way. "Then why are you using me as your messenger?"

Becca shrugs, turning to take a few idle notes with her glitter pen. "Well he won't talk to me."

And we're back at square one. "Why?"

She shakes her head at me like I'm being the immature one. "Oh please." Her lip curls. "I just want to explain myself, but to do that I need to see him. He absolutely hates me."

I exhale a long breath. "No kidding, huh."

The bell suddenly screeches and I utter a prayer of thanks under my breath, displaying my undying love for ending lessons. No more History for a whole weekend. Haleigh flipping lujah. "I'll get the PowerPoint here by next lesson."