Demi Lovato Imagines

School project

You can't help but roll your eyes when she finally strolls into class, just as the teacher finishes roll-call. I mean, you probably could help it. But why should you? You sit there, making it as obvious as you can to make sure she sees you as she ambles over to her seat across the room, not earning even a look of disapproval from Miss Smith. Typical. 

"Right, class..." Miss Smith begins, turning her back to the room and scribbling on the blackboard. You don't pay attention to what she says next. You just think about how pissed of you are at yet another day of injustice at St. Milne's High School. It was only two periods ago that you were given a slip for not being sat at your desk by the time the teacher walked through the door, despite the fact you had sprinted all the way from the art department as soon as the bell rang. Your knee still aches from where you clattered it off the stairwell in your rush and seems to throb more just thinking about how Madison De La Garza can do whatever the fuck she wants in this school and not even get a warning. What a joke. 

"For this project, you'll all be working in pairs," Miss Smith says, reaching under her desk to pull out her clipboard. The rest of the class squeals in excitement at the prospect of working with their friends before Miss Smith clears her throat loudly, descending the room back into silence. 

"I'll be assigning the pairs for this," she smirks, earning a few groans from the students confident enough to be the class clowns, and starts reading out the list of pairs from her sheet of paper. You already know this is going to suck. You don't have any friends in this class, not that that bothers you, and you know this will probably just be another case of you doing all the work and your partner getting half the credit. It wouldn't be the first time. But you can't risk failing an assignment just to prove a point. Considering your future plans, you can't afford to get a bad grade in any class this year. 

"Y/n and Madison."

You just didn't anticipate how badly this would suck. Me and Madison?! She's got to be joking. All the teachers know the two of you don't get on. It was made pretty clear when she went to the deputy head last year because apparently you kept making snide remarks about the special treatment she gets. I mean...she was right. You did do it. But it wasn't like anything you said was untrue. And it certainly didn't warrant a trip to his office to be lectured about tolerance. 

"Just because she's famous doesn't mean she should get a free pass on all the rules here!"

"Miss Y/l/n, you've got to show a little respect. Could you imagine what would happen to this school if the media found out Miss De La Garza was getting bullied here? I can't allow our image to be tarnished."

Your parents said to just leave it. Life is full of injustices, they said, and if you want to go to college, you need to rise above it. Beat the system. Play them at their own game. Which is easier said than done, you wanted to reply. They don't have a clue how much Madison pisses you off. 

The bell rings loudly and everyone starts to pack up. As you head towards the door, Miss Smith summons you back to her desk. 

"Madison, you too!" she calls sweetly and you soon itch at her presence behind your back. 

"I assume the two of you are wondering why I paired you together for this," she smiles, perching on the edge of the table and folding her arms across her chest. You just shrug. Yeah, something like that. 

"The teachers, myself included, have noticed the animosity between you and have decided to step in. I have a feeling the two of you will get on very well if you just spend a little quality time together. Y/n?"

You don't shift the scowl on your face as, yet again, you are the one singled out. 

"My feelings towards her aren't going to change unless you stop giving her special treatm--"