Code Name: Draconis [Ace Draconis - ON HOLD; see my updated profile for info!]

Chapter 8: Art, Dragons, and Pizza

Chapter 8: Art, Dragons, and Pizza

The next week was uneventful. Whoever John hired to do my homework must have been a super-genius, because Clarissa and I got a 97% on our art project. Of course, marks in the 70s were good for me, since I didn't put too much effort into my work. Clarissa however, was a perfectionist, and she was determined to have all her marks at least over 90%. Sometimes she'd settle for an 85%, but seemed disappointed in herself if she got anything below that. I didn't understand why she was obsessing over her grades now, when it was grade 12 that really mattered, but she just shook her head when I asked her about it, and said, "School isn't about grades, Ace. It's about impressions and major butt-kissing to certain teachers. I don't intend to do the second, and I won't need to, if I can get the impression part right."

Of course, I didn't understand what she meant by, 'impressions.' But hell, if I could get away without doing much work this year, I was fine with that.

All week I'd been looking forward to tomorrow; Thursday. We'd gotten a new assignment in art today (we had to draw examples of all the elements of art), and although I had a general idea of what I was supposed to do, I begged Clarissa for help. She'd given in, and told me I could come over after school on Thursday. Of course, I'd probably do alright on my own, but I wasn't about to let her know that my real motive for asking for help was to spend time with her. I'd probably do satisfactory like I always did, but this was an excuse to get some alone time with her.

I silently grinned to myself; I'm almost as bad as Borgos.

Well, this was Borgos' tactic after all. Whenever he liked a girl, he'd start pairing up with her for projects (asking her a few days in advance even) and then he'd go over to her place or she'd come to ours to work on their project. After she left, he'd usually be grinning like the fool he was, and would often say to me, "Ah, Ace. It works every time, the smart ones are always so happy to help poor confused, funny, little Borgos..."

He'd then rant on about how he'd impress them with how smart he really was, and then sometimes he'd ask them out a few weeks later (if he thought they were interested). I suppose he was a little crafty, but it was a good excuse to get to hang out with the girls he liked. I silently prayed his tactics would work out as well for me as they did for him.

Thursday morning I saw Clarissa before school started, and she said she wasn't feeling too well and was going to take the day off. When I asked her if it would be possible for her to help me with my art project later, she said that I could still come over. All day I was counting down the minutes until I could go see her, and I was uncharacteristically anxious for some reason.

In gym I was pre-occupied, and I missed nearly all of the easy shots during baseball, causing Borgos to confront me on the way to biology.

"Honestly, mate, I'm fine. I'm just a little tired today, that's all."

"You sure, Ace? I mean you've never missed so many shots before...and the easy ones, at that."

"Look, I'm fine, okay? I didn't get a ton of sleep last night is all. Quit freaking out," I countered, as we took are usual seats at the back of the room.

Borgos was still worried about me at lunch, since I'd only eaten a bag of chips and a sandwich.

"Ace, you starving yourself now? Eat, man, eat!"

"Borgos, I'm fine... I'm just not hungry," I muttered, tossing a chip at him.

English was boring as usual, and I actually jumped when our teacher called on me to answer a question, knocking over my binder and pencil case in the process. By the time the bell rang in art I was uncharacteristically uneasy.