Sweet Charlotte

「 twelve: synthetic sketches 」

They hadn't done any math homework that night and it showed. Browning was not happy.

"What's going on here?" Browning asked, tugging Seth to the back of the room after class, waving an assignment with a 53 in front of his nose.

He scrunched it, displeased with the smell of red permanent marker. "I don't understand. That's way better than my average."

"Seth, your past couple grades have been in the 70s and 80s." Browning scoffed, slapping the paper down on her desk. "You're clearly getting back into the swing of things and I'm not about to watch you swing down again."

Willow, who had just finished piling all her things into her bag, swung it over her shoulder and turned around. "Ms. Browning, that's on me." She watched the way Browning's brows curled knowingly. "I'm Seth's tutor. We didn't get around to studying a lot this week because I wasn't, you know, 'feeling well.'"

Browning's brows settled, realization taking its time to wash over her and the all-knowing stare fading away. "Oh, I see."

Willow nodded. "We're back to studying tonight. The next assignment will be much better, I promise."

Browning smirked. "It better. Your rep is on the line, Willow."

Willow smirked back. "I won't let you down, Ms. Browning."

"You never do,"

As they slipped out of the room, the bustle of lunch hour excitement rich in the air, Seth felt as if he could breathe again. "Thanks,"

"I'm not about to let you get ragged on for something I caused," Willow said, starting for her locker, feeling a twinge of surprise as Seth trotted after her. She was half expecting him to branch of; immediately dart over to his football friends and cut their conversation short as per usual.

"You caused?" He scoffed. "This is equally my fault."

"Fine," Willow sighed, twisting in her code and popping her lock open. "I wasn't about to let you take the fall alone."

"Thank you," he said, propping up against the locker beside her, all smirks. "So, studying tonight?"

"Works for me,"

"Do you care if we do it at my place?" He asked, stretching out his knuckles.

Willow hesitated as she reached in for her lunch. The last time they'd been there had been anything less than pleasant, but really she didn't mind squelching that memory with a better one. "I don't mind, but why?"

"Quiet. More private," he said, tugging his phone out of his pocket and scanning the messages cluttering his home screen. "Plus my Mom baked snacks this morning and I wanna get in on them before my Dad eats them all." He scoffed, typing out a response to a text. "If I'm not there after practice, there's no hope."

Willow smiled, finding it sweet how their family remained fairly connected despite Charlotte. "Fine. I'm down as long as I get to steal one."

"Steal as many as you like. We gotta teach my Dad a lesson."

Willow smirked, stuffing her sandwich into her bag. "So, I'll meet you at your place at, what? 7?"

Seth hesitated. "Or, I could pick you up at 7:15?"

Willow drew her locker to a close, letting the proposition hang in the air. She didn't know why Seth had been so keen on giving her rides, but she didn't mind. Maybe it was guilt, maybe it was nervous obligation, but regardless it meant less sore feet and tired walking for her. "Works for me."

Seth grinned, slapping the locker beside her. "Sweet. I'll see you then,"

With mutual waves as Willow fastened her lock, Seth darted down the hall for his football friends who greeted him with shoulder slaps and jostles to the ribs.