your body is a weapon → brad simpson | ✓

three

The next day, I walk into my music lesson with my eyes droopy from the sheer tiredness of having to wake up early in order to catch the bus to school.

"Mornin', Miss," I greet the teacher sat at her desk. She shoots me a smile before I sit down at my seat at the back. I pull my book out of my bag, as well as a pen from my pencil case before I face the front and wait for everyone to join.

My dad had rung me this morning telling me that he's not going to be back in Birmingham until Friday since he's gone to Manchester for his new house deal. I told him that it's fine and I'll get a bus to school, even though they either get me here really early or really late.

Brad strolls through the door on time, a black hoodie wrapped around him with his hood hiding his hair. I notice that a few messy curls had escaped at the top of his head as he got closer to his seat next to me.

"You never accepted my friend request yesterday," he says as soon as he's sat down. I turn my head to face him and shrug. "Why not?"

"I guess I didn't receive the notification," I lie, turning away. I don't think he'd be happy if I told him I blatantly ignored his request.

"Well, you should accept my friend request," he says as he grabs his book from his bag, putting them on to the table.

"Why should I?"

"Because we're working on a project together and I need a way of talking to you," he rolls his eyes, saying it like it's obvious. "Why wouldn't you accept my friend request, anyway?"

"Because we're not friends," I reply. "We're just working together on a project."

"Seems like you have no friends anyway," he mumbles under his breath and I throw him a weak glare before turning away with a small sigh. For the entire lesson, we ignored each other and eventually the bell rings.

I had a free period and I decide to go to the library to do some studying for a couple of my lessons to get ahead of the class. It wasn't that I wanted to be the smartest one there, it's just that learning new information to retain passed the time for me.

I sit down at a table in the back of the library, a book in my hand and I turn to the index to find a relevant page. I purse my lips before turning to a page near the middle, reading over the words slowly.

It's only when I feel a presence on the other side of the table that I glance up, only to see a head of dark curls.

"Hi," he says awkwardly, looking around the library as though it's cursed.

"Do you want something?" I question, watching how uncomfortable he felt sat in here. I wonder if he's ever been in here before.

"Well, we need to start our project," he says. "Uh, when do you want to do it?"

"Well if we're doing it in a video style, we'll need to get a video recorder," I say.

"We have phones for a reason."

"Okay," I nod, trying to cover the red on my cheeks as I close up the book that I was reading. "And we'll need questions—a lot of them. The point of the project is to get to know each other so don't ask boring questions."

"Okay," he nods. "So I'll work on some questions for you and we'll start doing the project when?"

"Whenever," I shrug absentmindedly. "I'll have some whenever you're ready. Do you want to find a template for the YouTube theme?"

"I can, yeah," he nods, before putting his hands on the table and pushing himself up off of the chair. "Is that everything?"

I nod, "yeah."