Not My Type

Chapter 5: Uncharted Territory

"Anjali!" I woke up from my brief nap in sixth period yearbook to find Tom Reiner's hand being waved around in my eyes.

"What?" I said groggily, rubbing my eyes.

"We're planning our Super Senior assignments." He grabbed my hand and pulled me out of my seat. "Get up! You can sleep when you're dead!"

I smiled. I'd known Tom since the fifth grade, but we hadn't gotten to be good friends until our sophomore year. And now, we were editors on the yearbook together. He dated one of my best friends, Leslie, last year, but it ended pretty badly. I was there, as usual, to pick up the pieces for both of them.

We gathered in a circle with the writers, assigning who would write about who. Super Seniors were thirteen to fourteen seniors chosen for each class who were "outstanding" in something or the other---school, sports, performing arts. Tom gave me the list and started talking.

"I already assigned you all to a person. You have to have interviews done by the twenty-fourth. First draft articles are due to me and Anjali by the thirtieth..."

I looked down the list to see who I had. It said: "Jason Roberts (football)-Anjali"

I groaned.

"What?" Tom stopped talking. Apparently I was louder than I thought.

"Um, who do you have to write about? Can we switch?"

Tom grinned. "We'll talk later. Let's finish telling them what they have to do."

After Tom finished lecturing the poor children on the dos-and-don'ts of article writing and everyone cleared the area, he turned to me. "What? You don't want to interview Jason?"

"No, not really. Who are you writing about?"

"Janice Wu," he said. "But I'm not going to trade with you. You know Jason way better than I do."

"What are you talking about? I don't even talk to him!"

"You gave him a ride one day, didn't you? Seems like you guys are friends." Tom smiled at me deviously.

"That was definitely a pity ride, okay? He was going to walk home. And I haven't spoken to him since."

"Still closer to him than me," Tom said.

"Who even gave you the right to assign these?"

"Me," he replied, punching me in the shoulder and walking away.

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I messaged Jason on Facebook and asked when he would be free. He asked if I could get him out of sixth period football one day. I reluctantly agreed.

And that's how I found myself being greeted by repugnant stench of the weight room to retrieve him the next Wednesday.

"Hi Mr. Fernandez," I said, smiling as I approached my Spanish teacher. "Can I use Jason for a little bit? I need to interview him for yearbook."

"Sure thing!" Mr. Fernandez was in his forties, brown hair that was balding on the sides. His teaching style was a little too fluffy for my taste, but he was a really nice person and he was good with teenagers. He was wearing sunglasses, a sun hat, and was dressed in work out clothes. I had never seen him in his football clothes before. "ROBERTS!"

Jason emerged from behind some heavy weightlifting machine. White muscle tee, black running shorts, sweat dripping down his cherry-colored face.

"Oh, hey," he said as his eyes settled down on me. "Give me one sec." He wiped his face with a towel and took a swig from his water bottle before walking towards me. "Do you want to go outside?"

"Sure," I responded, instinctively backing a few inches away as he neared me.

"Hey," said a brown-haired guy spotting for his friend by his friend. He nodded to me and smiled. I had never seen this guy before in my life.

"Shut up, Sanders," said Jason, grinning and slapping the back of Creepy Weight-Lifting Guy's head.

Where the hell am I?! cried the voice in my head.