Cliché

chapter 10. xavi and ruby

Surprisingly, the two classes following drama are uneventful, to say the least. In math and english, the teacher actually teaches— unfortunate, since those are also the subjects I dislike the most.

The problem, however, comes during my fourth period.

Home economics.

"Class, today we will be starting one of the biggest projects of the entire year, worth 50% of your grade," the teacher announces. "It's time for the...."

"Baby Project!" I lip sync alongside him. I turn to my Best Friend sitting beside me, irritation clear in my scowl. "I can't believe the author threw in this cliche. What is so appealing about two people taking care of a sack of flour?"

My Best Friend sighs dreamily, obviously not having listened to any of my complaints. "I hope I get paired with Jason."

"With who?"

"Jason," she repeats, pointing towards a background character sitting near the back of the classroom.

My eyes follow her finger, but instead of reaching Jason, they settle upon a very familiar boy sitting moodily in the back of the classroom. Our eyes meet for a split second before he glances away.

It's the boy from the pool.

"Hey." I nudge my Best Friend and snap her out of her fantasizing, less than discreetly pointing to the boy. "Who's that?"

"Oh, him? That's Jake Williams. He's new, just like you. Wasn't he your best friend from elementary school?"

I blink at her numbly. "He was?"

Right then, I recall something Mom told me yesterday.

Remember that one boy you were best friends with in elementary school? His family moved in next door. They invited us to dinner tomorrow.

Goddamn it.

It's the my-ex-best friend-moved-in-next-door trope combined with the baby project.

"Alright class. I'll be assigning the partners for this project," the teacher says, flipping through the papers in his hand. "First, Lisa and Joe."

He continues calling out a bunch of random names, including Genevieve and Jason (causing my Best Friend to freak out next to me) and most dreadfully, Irissa and Jake. After moving seats to accommodate the pairings, the teacher continues his explanation.

"First, we'll simulate a fake marriage, then we'll be moving onto the baby. After introducing yourselves to each other, please come to the front to pick your life profiles."

While the other students in the classroom begin chattering away, the two of us sit in awkward silence, refusing to be the first one to talk. Finally, the Ex-Best-Friend Next Door breaks first.

"I'm requesting a partner switch." He stands up from his seat, marching up to the teacher's desk without a glance back towards me.

"Wait, it's not that easy!" I call out. "The author already wrote you into this plot arc!"

He briefly malfunctions, his head twitching in the middle of the classroom. Once his memory resets, he continues to ignore me and takes his complaints to the teacher. After a long back-and-forth, he grudgingly pulls out two slips of paper from the bowl and stalks back towards me.

"So?" I ask curiously.

"We're stuck together," he says angrily, throwing one of the papers on my desk.

"Let me guess. You're sad because the teacher didn't allow you to switch on the premise of an unreasonable and illogical grudge against your best friend from kindergarten?" I tease as I unfold my paper.