Partners In Crime

Chapter 5

~Blythe~
“32 photos from TheMessengerGod”

“Did anyone do the extra credit homework last night?” Mr. Sams asked the class.

The class was dead silent.  I shuffled in my seat and fiddled with my paper.  I didn’t do the extra credit homework, I didn’t even try it.  No one else in my class had bothered to do it anyways, it was far too confusing.  I couldn’t even figure out how to do the normal credit problems, but I sloppily wrote down guesses at the very last minute.  I was so happy that the teacher wasn’t collecting and grading the homework worksheet, or else all my ‘hard’ work would be deemed a solid F.  And an F would ‘eff both me and my parents up very much.

Mr. Sams looked around the classroom, scanning for anyone, anyone who had an answer to the problem.  When the only answer he got was silence, he sighed and shook his head.  He tilted his glasses up with that disappointed frown that teachers wore when students failed to meet their incredibly high expectations.

“Alright,” he said, “I guess we’ll just have to work on it in class.  Get with your desk buddy.”

The class groaned.  Just when we thought we had gotten rid of the impossible problem, our teacher threw it right back at us.  As usual.

I glanced at the empty desk beside me.  My partner, a girl named Bethany, never talked to me anyway so there really was no difference between her and the ghost that sat in her chair.  Either way, I’d end up sitting awkwardly silent.

“Hermes, can you sit next to Blythe?  Neither of your desk buddies are here.” Mr. Sams says.

I look up and glance between Mr. Sams and Hermes, feeling betrayed.  I was all fine and dandy with solving the problem on my own. Working with people was haaaaaaaarrrrrrd.  It wasn’t that I didn’t like Hermes (I didn’t know him enough to tell whether he was a chill dude or an annoying pain) it was that, typically, I found it easier to work by myself.  In partner projects, I was either left to do all of the work or none of it, and I’d rather do either on my own accord.

Hermes, however, seemed unaffected by the switch and smiled brightly at Mr. Sams.  

“Sure thing, Sams,” he said carried his stuff over to the desk beside me.  He plopped himself down into the seat with ease. I stared at my desk until the class erupted into discussions.

I turned to Hermes.  “So…” I started.

“So…” he mockingly copied me with a grin.

“Do you, uh, know what to do for this problem?” I asked, fiddling with the paper.

Instead of answering me, he asked me a question.

“Hey, you were at the party Friday right?” he asked me.

I crinkle my eyebrows in confusion.  Why was he asking me that? I didn’t remember seeing him there…  I tried to remember any instance where I saw him, but none came to mind.  I was fairly certain that he wasn’t at the party, but then again, I was also fairly certain that it was Tuesday when it was in fact, Monday.  My memory wasn’t really one to be trusted.

“Uh…  yeah… why?” I asked.

“And this is your Insta, right?” he held up the phone to me.  On the screen was my Instagram account.

I was slowly getting suspicious.  What are you, a stalker?  Creepy much? I wanted to say no, but my profile picture literally was me, and my username was _Blissfully_Blythe_, so I couldn’t really lie.  Thankfully it was private so he couldn’t get into it.

“Yes?” I asked, sinking back into my chair in an attempt to stay as far away from the creeper as possible.

“Good,” he grinned and pulled up a photo.  “I need you to delete this, then.”