Ditch Day

CHAPTER ONE

I hear footsteps approaching the door. When I look up, instead of my teacher, I see a tall boy wearing a charcoal leather jacket. There's a thud as Carter collapses into the desk directly to the left of mine.

"Hey," he whispers.

I stare at him, slightly surprised that he's acknowledging me, although it's not like he has a variety of people to choose from at the moment.

"Hi," I reply cautiously.

"This is consumer ec, isn't it?"

"Yeah." He smiles lazily and leans back into his chair.

"Just checking."

"The school year's almost over," I state matter of factly.

"And your point is?"

"Shouldn't you know where your classes are by now?"

He smirks. "In theory, sure."

I smile slightly at his arrogance and shake my head, turning away again to continue studying. Carter refuses to take the hint, and taps on the corner of my desk with his index finger until I finally look back up. He fixes me with a blinding smile that must've been through braces and a rigorous whitening treatment-nobody has teeth that white without having some sort of crazy cleaning regiment.

"I'm surprised somebody else's here. You know, with it being senior ditch day and all."

"I could say the same for you."

Purposely oblivious to my slight hostility, Carter happily announces, "Too many absences. Didn't want to lose my exemptions."

"Your grades have to be decent in order to be eligible for that, you know." Carter isn't exactly known around school as being a straight A student. Faking offense, he leans forward again slightly, "Are you insinuating that I'm a bad student?"

I shrug, "Just making a statement."

"Uh huh. That's what I thought." He stays quiet, and I have no idea how to continue the conversation, or if I actually want to. Soon, our teacher will walk in and we'll probably never speak again. I don't want to be rude, but I still haven't figured out why he's talking to me, and I really need to learn the different types of taxes before Mr. Webb gets here.

"So what's your excuse?"

Startled, I jump slightly in my seat. "What?"

"Why're you here?"

"Perfect attendance." I watch as understanding floods his features. That's usually all it takes. While most people know my twin brother, Colton, for being the star football player, they know me as his goody two shoes sister, determined to get into an Ivy league school.

The bell rings, signaling the end of the passing period, and, I assume, the end of this random conversation with Carter. Or not.

"So, are you ready for a fun filled 45 minutes of budgets and taxes?" His false enthusiasm makes me smile.

"Always."

When Carter doesn't respond with another smart remark, I assume our short lived exchange is done for good, and we both stare at the door expectantly. Well, I do. Carter's stare just bounces around the room, bored. Only, Mr. Webb doesn't walk in. Not after thirty seconds. Or two minutes. After four minutes, Carter pulls out his phone. I sneak a glance at the screen, expecting to see him texting one of his many rumored girlfriends. Instead, he's playing a particularly hard level of Candy Crush.