Paper Stars

3

Charlotte Hollins
Before --- 5 years ago
East Hills High School, Sophomore Year
October
In high school, the words 'assigned partners' are synonymous to 'welcome to hell.'
It doesn't matter if you bribe and beg to God, it doesn't matter if you do some vudu dance or shit, it doesn't matter if you're the best damn human on the planet, because there is no way that you will return from 'assigned partners' with a decent partner. And it's not because the universe hates you, it's because teachers rig the whole thing. They don't trust chance; chance doesn't give out good grades. The way they figure it is that if they pair the slacker with the genius, they'll get an A+ project anyway, which will boost the slacker's grade to a C- and boost a raise in pay for the teacher. Smiles all around.
Except for me.
"Charlie Hollins and Lizzy Stevenson." Mrs. Dwight smiles at me as I move to my new lab table, halfway across the room from Fletcher's. He offers me a cheerful thumbs up that looks somewhat forced; he knows how much this is going to suck for me. Lizzy Stevenson, the burnout who failed Chemistry class last year and is now back for Attempt #2. She smokes crack with her friends behind the school out by the dumpsters, but the smell never seems to follow her around. It's only October, and she's already been suspended twice; once for stealing quarters from the vending machine, and once for punching Katelyn Cartwright in the parking lot.
And now she's my lab partner.
"It's not going to be that bad," Fletcher tells me after school. He works the register at the pastry and coffee-shop Fidel's. I usually tag along and try to do my homework at a corner table. Today it's Chemistry homework, because my lovely new lab partner didn't feel like helping me during class, so it's double the work for me.
I tap the end of my pencil against the textbook. "Do you remember Katelyn Cartwright?"
Fletcher wipes a wet cloth up and down the register counter to clean it. "The one who got punched? And do you have any idea how dirty these counters are? It's disgusting."
"By Lizzy. Over a parking space. A parking space, Flet. I'm screwed."
"Charlie, you'll be fine. It's only for a couple of weeks, and then Mrs. Dwight will change the partners again for the next unit." He dips the cloth into a bucket of hot water and washes down the counter again, his nose scrunched. "Besides, I got Nick Hathaway, so this unit is gonna be a freaking cake-walk for me."
I immediately feel guilty for complaining. Nick Hathaway is the dickface who's been bullying Flet since sixth grade, when he began penning nicknames for Flet to make fun of his weight. Marshmallow Man and Cream Puff were the popular ones. In seventh grade, Nick and his friends held Flet upside down and shoved mashed potatoes down his clothes. Freshman year, they rigged his locker so that it sprayed out some kind of melted sticky candy when Flet opened it. And each time, I was the one who helped Flet get cleaned up in the bathroom and tried to make him stop crying.
The bell to the store rings as another customer comes. I immediately recognize the smooth brown skin and long black hair of Nadia Ganesh, aka Flet's longtime crush. As in, since third grade kind of longtime. As in, he writes songs about her on his guitar kind of longtime.
"Flet," I say in a hushed voice as Nadia browses the pastries in the glass cases, a paper bag in hang. "Flet, look up."
He glances up from the counter and his face instantly goes pale—well, paler. "Oh crap. Crap. Crap crap crap, Charlie, she's here, she never comes in here, what am I supposed to do?!"
I snort and try not to laugh, turning my attention back to my homework. "Well, you could start by not freaking out, you ding dong."
"I—what am I going to—oh hi Nadia!" He says in a rushed and breathless voice as she approaches the register.
Nadia smiles and Flet's face gets seventeen shades redder. "Hi Fletcher," she says as she sets a box of donuts down on the counter. I mentally give her a gold star for knowing Flet's actual name and not calling him 'Cream Puff' like everybody else.
As Nadia talks and Flet embarrasses himself, I look up and see a familiar spiked black pixie cut with bangs hanging into heavily eyeliner-ed eyes through the large glass windows, passing in front of the store front. Lizzy Stevenson pinches her joint between two fingers and blows a ring of smoke out of her lips. One of her friends says something and she tilts her head back and laughs. The setting sunlight drenches her in a golden glow and I can feel my skin getting warm and for an instant, she is the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.
Her eyes slide to the side and catch mine. I can't move. A smile slinks onto her lips and she raises her fingers in a wave. I quickly look away, and when I glance back up she's already gone.
The store bell rings as Nadia Ganesh leaves. Flet is bright red and sweating like he's just run a marathon. "That wasn't so bad," he repeats to himself. "Right, Charlie? I did fine, right?"
I nod subconsciously, my eyes still frozen on the spot where Lizzy stood. "Yeah, you were great."
All of a sudden, this lab partner thing seems ten times harder.