Just the Beginning [Complete ✓]

Chapter 20

I hate group projects and group assignments. Even if it's just working in pairs, I hate it. The message Sawyer sent this morning only reminded me of this matter when he informed me he would be getting to school late.

After the call, I hadn't heard from him again. Which was all in all fine. It wasn't like I cared. It didn't faze me. Or at least, that's what I kept telling myself and quite frankly it was working right up until today. Having not seen him since he found out who I was didn't help. While there was the part of me who wanted to be concerned and worried about him. The other half of me was more concerned about our assignment due today.

"You're going to be fine," Monique assures, plopping herself against the lockers and smiling down at me as I scratch around in my locker. "You know that right?"

"I just can't believe he's late," I whine, shutting the locker. We start heading to class.

"At least he let you know," she points out and I can't argue with that. At least he told me he was going to be late rather than letting me run around, losing my shit and stressing over where he was and trying to figure out where he was and when he'd be getting here and whether I'd be handing in alone. Now I have these worries, but they're backed up by the reminder that he had messaged first.

"Yeah, yeah," I mutter grumpily. "See you at lunch." We part ways as she goes down the corridor to her class while I duck into mine. I take my seat and, with nothing else to do, I wait patiently.

The handing in of the assignment goes pretty well and the first of the double period flies by. During the last few minutes of the first period, the door opens, the sound echoing through the silence of the room. I lift my head, waiting expectantly (along with the rest of the class) for whoever it is to walk in. The teacher looks over and nods respectively and, surprise surprise, Sawyer steps in a moment later.

As soon as he takes his seat, Mr Michaels stands up. "Now that I've got your assignments and that everyone's here, let's get started on your practicals."

"Wonderful," Sawyer grumbles from beside me. He leans on his elbow, eyes flickering around the room as Mr Michaels makes his way around the room.

"Clean up your work spaces and head out. In the hall are the equipment you'll need. I'll be back in a moment," he informs before slipping out of the classroom. Sawyer and I share a look before he stands and steps out, along with at least ten other students. All the while, I swipe at the desk, ensuring that it's clean enough for whatever practical they've got in store for us. There's a faint murmur as the students walk back in and Sawyer's got this disbelieving look across his face. He drops a tray on the desk.

"I guess we know what we're doing for our practical." Despite trying to go for a cheerier tone, he sounds bored. He clearly isn't looking forward to this and, with one look around the classroom, neither are the majority of them. Not even Adrian who pulls a face when we make eye contact.

In the tray are different tools; one is most definitely a scissor. Before I can ask him what we are doing, Mr Michaels walks back with this box. Clear and filled with holes for the frogs to breathe.

As soon as my mind makes the connection, I'm shaking my head.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing," I stammer. "I just— Are we going to dissect them?" I whisper, ignoring the way my voice quakes at the idea.

He huffs out a chuckle, mouth pulling up into a crooked smile. "Pretty much, yeah." As if realizing that that was not the response I was looking for, his forehead creases, eyes narrowing as he analyzes me. "Seriously, what's wrong?"

"I can't do this," I whisper.

I can't do this. I can't do this, Cal—

"I can't. I really can't," I rush out, needing him to understand that I really cannot do this. I can't sit here and cut open a frog and expect to be fine. I can't murder a creature that's done nothing to me; I can't sit here, cutting up a frog, while his voice echoes in my head.

The moment the frog is placed there, I'm already shaking in my seat. Mr Michaels starts spitting out instructions, but I can't hear a thing. I've picked up the little knife and I'm staring at the frog and I just can't do this. His voice is nothing but a distant murmur and I'm almost sure there's a hand on my shoulder, but I don't know entirely. I could very well be imagining it, which I wouldn't be surprised at.

Cal, please, please, I can't do this. Please. I've done nothing wrong. I need you to help me. I need you to—

The sound of the knife clattering onto the tray echoes, but I've barely noticed as I hunch over, covering my ears and shaking my head. Someone's talking, I know that much. I know that another person joins in and they're talking to each other, but I can't hear what they're saying and I just wish I could stop shaking, more than anything else.

Hands curl around my upper arms and I'm vaguely aware of being ushered to my feet. The person is talking, but there's no distinctive words. Nothing I can make out other than incoherent mumbles and an unregistered tone. I refuse to open my eyes.

Please, Cal. Please—

My feet are no longer touching the ground. As my head processes this, it takes a moment before the surprise of it actually hits me, but I still can't do it. I can't open my eyes and risk seeing it and hearing his voice and being told to cut it because

Because he couldn't dissect a frog.

It reminds me of him.

And cutting open that frog would feel like cutting him open and I can't do this.

"Please, please, please," I whisper as I'm finally able to zone into everything. "Please, I can't," I choke out. I can't find the energy to lift my arms when I realize that I'm crying. I must look like a fool.

"Hey, hey, you won't," a voice murmurs. "You won't have to, okay?"

When I lift my head, Sawyer's looking down at me. I've been placed back down on the floor and, after turning my head to take a look behind me, I realize that we're outside the infirmary.

"You're crying," he mumbles. I whip my head around right as his hand brushes across my cheek. He swipes his thumb gently across my cheek, wiping away a tear. Though just as quickly, he catches himself, dropping his hand to his side and turning back to look at me, brow creasing in worry.

"Cal, what happened?"

I don't want to answer, so I shake my head, not meeting his gaze as I press my hands together as tightly as possible. A soft chuckle erupts from him as he gets to his feet. "Mr Michaels said to bring you here. Do you wanna go to the infirmary?"

"No."

"Back to class?"

I bite my lip. "No."

With a nod, he holds out a hand and helps me to my feet. Placing his hand gently against the lower of my back as he guides me. Though unsure as to where he's taking me, I don't ask questions.

If it's getting me out of here, I'd follow him anywhere.