The Price of Falling

Chapter 5

I sat in my creative writing class, listening to Mr. Weest introduce the due date for the next assignment. We were to write a narrative poem introducing ourselves. He called it the "I Am" poem. We had two weeks to complete this assignment, and then we were to present it in front of the class. I loved creative writing, and I wished I could make a career out of it.

A loud bang at the front of the classroom pulled me from writing the assignment specifics in my planner. Conner Price had just slammed the door. Making an entrance seemed to be his forté.

"Welcome, Mr. Price. Nice of you to join us. I was just telling the class about their next assignment," Mr. Weest said, smiling at Conner.

"Cool, cool. What is it?" He asked, smiling sarcastically. Ugh.

"Anyone care to explain the project to Mr. Price? Ruthie, why don't you?" Mr. Weest looked expectantly at me.

"Um, okay. We are writing a narrative poem, titled 'I Am.' It's due in two weeks. We have to include where we're from, our family names, physical characteristics of ourselves, personality traits that we wish we could change, and things that we enjoy."

Conner looked at me like I was the biggest nerd on the planet as he took a seat close to the front of the room. He was so amused at my knowing every detail of our assignment that he almost laughed in front of everyone. I'm not sure why he didn't.

"Thank you, Miss Smithey," Mr. Weest praised me. "Now, class. Where was I? Oh yes, you will need to get with a partner before you present your essay. By Monday, you will need to have your poem completed. Then you can give it to your partner to look over, and they will be responsible for giving you constructive criticism on things that you will need to consider changing before you present." I internally groan for about the hundredth time today.

***

"Hey, Smithey! Griffin, wait up!" I heard Conner calling my name as I speed-walked down the hallway, trying to get away from him. He unnerved me, and I couldn't put my finger on why. Just looking at him made me uneasy.

"Would you just stop for a second?" he touched my shoulder and my whole body went electric.

"What?" I snapped. It came out a little louder and harsher than I meant it to.

"Whoa, chill. What got your panties in a twist?" He asked me, genuinely confused.

"Don't talk about my panties," I responded, trying to sound sarcastic, and hoping that he wouldn't catch the blush that was climbing up my neck. "What do you want?"

"I was wondering if you'd be my partner for the stupid project?" he tried to make it sound nonchalant, but I could tell by the way that his shoulders hunched that something was wrong. I started to wonder, what if no one else would be his partner? It couldn't hurt. Just for this one project.

"Fine. But don't get any ideas about us being friends," I said. I didn't want him to start thinking that I liked him or anything. But the way he beamed at me when I agreed made something inside me melt a little. I returned a small, half-smile to him.

"Thank you, Griff. I really appreciate it. By the way, I'm sorry for what happened at prom." he responded to me. His grateful eyes turned humorous when he used the name he knew I hated, and then he looked down when he apologized about prom.

"Okay, but you have to stop calling me that. It's Ruth or Ruthie. Not Griffin. And don't worry about prom. It's not like you were my date or anything."

"Okay," he laughed, rubbing his hand across the back of his neck.

"Okay."

***