And Then There Was Vince

Chapter 3: At Least He Gets It

"So what's this all about?" Vincent asked as I pushed our desks together.

I sat down next to him and tried my hardest to avoid his gaze.

"Uh, it's a long story," I said, not really willing to admit I'd used him as an escape.

"It's because of Ainsley, right?" He asked, flicking his pencil in the other boy's general direction, not missing a beat.

"That obvious, huh?" I exhaled.

He chuckled to himself with a sideways smirk.

"It doesn't take a genius to see what's happening there," he assured me.

Mr. Bartlett had gradually made his way over with the prompt box extended, and I took the initiative of picking our theme.

"Horror, set in the school," I read out loud, more or less satisfied with the selection.

Vincent nodded in acknowledgement as Bartlett returned to his desk.

"The rules are pretty straightforward," The teacher started to explain. "No blood, no gore, no explicit content, as usual. Your silent films must come out to at least five minutes long after editing, but no more than six. Everyone must submit a screenplay before hand and have it approved. The original screenplays must be edited to perfection and submitted with your file. Capiche?"

There was a murmur of understanding from the class.

"Good. First drafts are due Wednesday to make sure you're on the right track. Now use the rest of today's class to work on it."

I opened up my notebook to a fresh, clean page and held my pencil at the ready.

"Ideas, then?" I asked.

Vincent appeared to be thinking intently, his face scrunched in the way a cartoon character's would be, tapping his hand on his chin.

"How about...Bitchy teen excludes her best friend from a group project, only to find out that friend is a badass witch who can curse her, causing all of her hair to fall out right before prom. Since we can't use gore and all."

"That might be a little too transparent," I chuckled. "And Ashley's not a bitch, by the way."

He shook his head and raised an eyebrow at me.

"Sure, if you say so."

I felt flustered.

"She's just angry," I assured him. "She'll get over it, soon. No doubt."

At that point, I wasn't certain if I'd been trying to convince him or me.

"Pretty bitchy if you ask me," Was his response.

"Well, you'll never catch me saying that and I didn't ask you," I finalized, wondering if that meant I agreed. "Anyway, what should we ACTUALLY do."

Despite the pair of us discovering we were each horror aficionados, brainstorming for a five minute horror short was proving itself to be rather hard. Horror without blood and gore in a school zone was a difficult concept to work with.

By the time class was over, we had a list of unoriginal, half-workable ideas with no progress actually made on the writing bit of the project.

"So what's your number?" Vincent asked me as he packed his bag, catching me completely off guard.

"Wh...Why?" I actually stammered.

He rolled his eyes at me playfully and let out a sigh.

"We have to turn in a draft by Wednesday, we don't come back to class until Wednesday, and despite how creepy I can look, I am not a stalker who knows where you live. I'll probably have to text you later so we can work something out."

My cheeks burned red for a short minute and I looked away from him as I scribbled the digits on half a sheet of lined paper.

"Oh sweet, you bought it," He teased me as I slipped him the sheet.

I rolled my eyes and retreated, hoping to avoid any further humiliation.