"I'll walk Ramona out," Alec told his mother, clearing his own school things off the table. He dumped them on the coffee table in the living room, walking Ramona outside to where her bike rested on its kickstand in the driveway. He crossed his arms over his chest, scuffing the toe of his sneaker against the gravel. "It's not you, just so you know. I mean I'd have no problems with you staying for dinner, but my father will be home tonight. I won't subject anyone to him who isn't part of our family and therefore obligated. So, you know, I just wanted you to know that."
Ramona found that unexpected but a bit sweet, a feeling she had not known she would ever affiliate with Alec Davis. She hopped on her bike after settling her bag over her shoulders, brushing her messy hair back into a sloppy bun with a hair band. Most of it came undone almost immediately, but she just ignored it where it fell around her face.
"Don't worry about it," she shrugged, one foot resting on a pedal while the other one held her upright, rooted safely to the ground. "I know how families are, got one of my own. Maybe we can get together again on Tuesday, see if we can get a script down for one or two of our segments. We're on a roll so we may as well keep going with it while we have steam."
Alec agreed, committing Tuesday to memory. He stayed on the edge of the driveway in the grass, watching as Ramona turned her bike around to go. She was just pulling out of the driveway when a familiar Range Rover whipped in with a cloud of dust behind it, his father arriving in his usual not-so-subtle way. He didn't even wait for his dad to exit the vehicle; he just turned and headed back into the house. They'd have plenty of time to narrow their eyes at one another and refuse to speak once they were at the dinner table, partaking in their forced family time.
As he slid his shoes off by the door and went to properly put his things away, he thought about Ramona Sanders again. What was it like at her house? They didn't have a lot of money, and word was they might lose their farm, but they probably got along. They were probably a quintessentially tight knit family who stayed close to one another even through the hard times, and who provided a pillar of strength for one another no matter what. He envied her that, a faint longing lingering in the back of his mind as he trudged up to his room to do the rest of his homework. What was it like to have a home devoid of tension? A father who didn't make you internally quake with fear? On the outside his life seemed to be the perfect one, but it was really people like Ramona who had everything.
Chapter Eight: The High School Experience
The basketball team typically sat together at lunch, at a long table beneath a bank of windows. Most days they were joined by the girls of the varsity cheer squad, who always wore their uniforms on game day like something straight out of a bad teen movie. Alec would have liked it a lot better if they had sat at their own table, or with the football jocks in the center of the cafeteria. Not because he didn't appreciate the sight of a pretty girl in a short skirt, but because most of them wore too much perfume that made his head hurt and they tended to speak in shrill, excited voices that gave him a pinching pain right behind his eyes. Even suggesting that they move their gossip and loud conversations to another table though would have brought his own social status up for question, and that was really the last thing that he needed.
It had been a long weekend, the majority of which had been spent in his bedroom. His father had grounded him after yet another argument, this one Alec's last ditch effort to free Bryson from having to try out for the team. His insistence had been moot, however, and not only had he gotten punished, but he was now also tasked with helping his little brother with drills. So the time he had not spent in his room reading the Bronte book and watching television was spent outside instead, on the little make shift court in the backyard. They had worked on shooting drills, various exercises, and running laps. It was clear almost immediately that Bryson was not a natural athlete and after an hour or two of working that he most likely wasn't a teachable one either. He just didn't have the heart for it, and if you didn't have heart then no amount of hype could save you.
Sooner or later skill either shown through or it didn't, and for Bryson it was not destined to come. Alec knew that he would likely be blamed for his younger brother’s upcoming failure, but he didn't mind that part so much. At least if the heat were on him then it wasn't on Bry, which was just as well. He was thinking about that, about tryouts being so close and about his father’s pushiness, when a tray slammed onto the table across from him and shook him out of his own head.
"Earth to Davis! Are you there, man?" It was Gerald Wythe who was asking the question, smirking over at Cameron who had slid onto the bench beside of him.
"He doesn't have time to pay us any attention," Cam smirked, waggling his eyebrows as he took the top bun off his hamburger, applying an obscene amount of ketchup to the thin patty. "He's too busy thinking about his new girlfriend, aren't ya Davis?"
Alec was sufficiently caught off guard, raising an eyebrow as he managed to steal some ketchup for his fries before Cameron could use up the entire bottle. "If I knew what the hell you were talking about, I might be inclined to either agree or disagree."
Gerald laughed as he opened up his carton of chocolate milk, taking a swig and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Alec wanted to toss him some napkins and call him out on being a pig, but he didn't. He was too intrigued by whatever it was they were talking about to worry too much about the manners of an idiot like Gerald. Though said idiot did helpfully supply some answers just seconds later.
"Cam says you had a visitor on Friday at your house! Dude, you're seriously hanging out with Ramona Sanders? Stuttering Sanders is like the biggest joke at RHS, you should really be rethinking your plans for getting laid!"
Having just taken a big bite of a fry, Alec promptly choked. He felt the French fry lodge into his throat, cutting of his airway and causing a momentary flash of panic. He smacked his chest with his fist and coughed, wheezing a little as he spoke. "He said what now?"
Cameron laughed hard, ketchup oozing off his burger as he pressed the bun back on. He shot Alec a look from across the table, partially amused and partially a little bit worried. Not about the choking, mind you, but about his friends study buddy. "You have got to be careful, man. You don't want anyone else seeing Stuttering Sanders over at your place. I mean it is seriously bad enough that you got stuck with her for that stupid project, but you could at least be a little more careful about it. I mean you couldn't just meet up at the library or something?”
"It's my damn house," Alec managed around another cough, the fry finally dislodging and finishing its descent down his throat. He took a drink of water to make sure he was going to be alright, spinning the cap back on as he finally properly locked eyes with Cameron across the table. "The library is crowded, and anyway, it's easier to just work in my dining room when the tyrant isn't home. We got a lot done, and it's not like this is some project where you make a poster and you're good to go. This counts for a lot of our grade, Cameron, and I for one don't want to see my GPA slip over who I got as an assigned partner."
"Look, we're just looking out for your best interests here," Cameron snapped, the cocky little smile melting quickly off his face. "Stuttering Sanders is a bitch, okay? She used to get off on getting us all into trouble, I'm not even joking. Just be careful, man."
Alec couldn't stop the snort that escaped him, rolling his eyes a little as he grabbed another fry. This time he made sure to chew a bit more thoroughly, lest he be caught off guard again. "Gee, Cam, I wonder why she was always getting you into trouble? Could it be because you were calling her Stuttering Sanders? The fact of the matter is that Mrs. Bond put us together, end of story. We want to do well on the project, and get a good grade in the glass. It's our senior year; can't we just be done with this petty bullshit?"
Gerald scooted down on the bench a bit as the flock of girls began to arrive, smelling like a wilting flower garden and each carrying a salad. They weren't about to let the subject drop, and Gerald shook h
is head at Alec in disgust as Casey King took up the spot beside of him. "Why does a good grade matter so much anyway, man? You know you're getting an athletic scholarship at some school or another, so you don't have to have some killer average at this point. Stop worrying about it so much."
"Who's worrying about what?" Casey asked, opening her spring water and pouring a scant bit of vinaigrette dressing over her lettuce. It was a mystery to Alec how every single week the girls were always on a different weird diet, especially since they already looked great and he was a big believer in eating whatever you felt like eating, but he'd long ago stopped questioning them. If they wanted to eat bland lettuce and drink overpriced water then that was their business, even if he did find the practice a little bit ridiculous.
"Alec is worrying over English," Cam chimed in, leaning around Gerald for a better look at Casey. He wasn't all that interested in what she had to say, but more in what was beneath her cute little pink fuzzy sweater. "He got paired with Sanders, remember? She was over at his house yesterday, and I keep trying to warn him he better make her cool her jets before she finds a reason to turn him in to the principal. Remember when you got suspended because she claimed you peed on her gym clothes in sixth grade?"
"Yes! I mean, I did it, but I can't believe she squealed to the teacher. It was just a prank and she had to make it a big deal. She's not right in the head, I'm telling you. I bet there's some sort of statistic that shows that people with childhood stutters grow up to be serial killers or something,” Casey declared as she looked up from her lunch, glancing at all of them in turn with a serious expression on her face. "You better watch your back, Alec. She might knife you or something."
Alec just stared at them all with his mouth slightly open, trying to decide if the conversation was actually serious or not. He couldn't really judge it properly so he just stood up from his seat, his mostly untouched lunch cold on the tray in front of him. He had reached the point of having more than enough, and it was very clearly showing on his face.
"As fascinating as this stupidity is, I'm pretty sure I can find a better use for my time," he announced, heading for the trash bins. He dumped his tray and grabbed up his books, heading out of the cafeteria. He could hear Cameron calling to him as he exited, pretending not to hear him.
Alec spent the rest of the lunch period in the gym shooting baskets, thankful for the breathing room as well as the peace and quiet. He thought about Ramona as he threw up free throws, the swish of the ball through the net helping to calm his nerves. He didn't really think she'd ever done anything to intentionally get the others in trouble, and they were really their own worst enemies for being such entitled pricks. They were partners, thrown together by their teacher who had for some reason seemed to think that they would make a good pair. So far that seemed to be true, at least in terms of their classwork, and he vowed to not let his friends keep getting to him. They could make their jokes, have their ridiculously uninformed opinions, and it would all be over soon. Just eleven more weeks, they would present their work, and go their separate ways. December really wasn't so far away.
In the cafeteria Ramona Sanders sat by herself, a few tables away from the one previously occupied by Alec Davis, and that was still occupied by his friends. She had been supposed to meet up with Toni Hodges, a fellow mathlete, to go over their calculus homework, but so far Toni was a no show. That meant that Ramona was eating her soy burger and overly greasy French fries alone while working diligently on the last set of problems. Normally she had all of her homework done and ready to go, but the night before had been a gong show at home.
Two of her youngest siblings had come home from school with the stomach virus, and had started throwing up just after dinner. So they had been up late bleaching the house and isolating the sick ones, hoping to contain the virus and to keep it from spreading. It had been late by the time she had sat down with her work, and when she had gotten to math her brain had been shutting itself off. She had fallen asleep with her book still in her lap, now sporting a crick in her neck from sleeping sitting up.
She was on problem eighteen of twenty when she heard someone calling her name, looking up in confusion. Her eyes scanned the room until they fell on Casey King, who was looking right at her. Casey called her name again, louder this time, to make sure she got the attention of everyone in the nearby vicinity.
"Hey, Stuttering Sanders," she yelled out gleefully, causing Ramona's cheeks to turn a flaming shade of pink. "I hear you have a crush on Alec Davis! Is that true? Aw, look at her blush! Mona has a crush!"
Ramona felt the air leave her lungs, her chest tightening up. This could not possibly be happening. She quickly scanned the table where Casey sat, but Alec was nowhere to be seen. They had only been working together for a week, just one week, and already he'd had enough of her. He had been so nice, and it had all just been an act. This had probably been his plan the entire time, to put up a good guy act and then jerk the rug out from underneath her. Get her to his house, really put on a show, just so he could tell his buddies all about it and they could laugh at her.
"Mona has a crush! Mona has a crush!"
The sound felt deafening, even though it was only about twenty of the nearly hundred kids in the cafeteria. The ones who weren't chanting were staring though, their eyes boring holes into her. Ramona closed her math book and started to gather things together, her hands shaking. She could hear Casey King laughing, and Cameron Eccoles still leading the charge. Even as she fled the cafeteria the chant still followed her, the echo of it still faint as she shoved her way into the girl’s rest room.
She spent the rest of the lunch period there on a closed toilet, crying quietly. She heard the bell ring to signal the end of senior lunch, and then the next that would have told her that her math class was about to begin. Once she got herself together she made her way to the front office, asking the secretary to call her mother. She told the woman about the sickness at her home, and that she wasn't feeling so well herself. By the time that her mother showed up, Ramona had convinced even herself that she didn't feel well, able to play off her embarrassment and shame as a fever and a churning stomach.
Later, as she lay in bed after a cool shower and a bland supper of broth, Ramona let herself think about Alec Davis. She told herself she wouldn't work with him anymore outside of school, and that they could work independently on separate parts of the project. Nobody was worth that sort of ridicule, the type of agony she had fought so hard to leave behind her. She had tried to forget about Stuttering Sanders, had tried to put all that in her past and move forward with a new outlook. She'd be damned of Alec Davis, of all people, ruined that for her.
Chapter Nine: I Can Change, I Swear
Tuesday morning dawned crisp and cool, signaling that fall was really and truly knocking on Montana's doorstep. Ramona had woken up feeling a little bit better about her plight, and had resolved to stick her plan. She headed to school on her bicycle, wearing an oversize flannel shirt to combat the chill in the air. She went through her normal routine of locking up her bike before heading to her locker, keeping her eyes peeled for any signs of a potential hallway assault. She got all of her things ready and headed for English class early, sliding into her usual front row seat and taking out the notes she'd made on Pygmalion, their newest reading assignment.
What felt so normal was soon disrupted though, just moments before the second bell rang out to signal that classes would be starting with or without you in your seat. She was trying to decipher her own handwriting on a note she'd made about Colonel Pickering when a familiar tall figure sat down at the desk beside of hers. Sucking in a deep breath, Ramona refused to turn her head and look at him, pretending that Eliza and her flowers were just fascinating. Alec turned sideways in his desk though, facing her across the narrow aisle.
"Hey," he said pointedly, able to feel Cameron's eyes boring into the back of his head. "Is it okay if I sit by you? I was feeling pretty lonely on the other side of the room. I thought th
is way maybe we could catch up some before class starts, you know, compare anything new we might have thought up." Ramona remained silent, her lips pursed together tightly. That only seemed to encourage him further, like she was a dam and he was determined to make her burst. "You mad at me or something? Come on. We're still on for this afternoon, right? My mom has to come into town for some stuff from the store, she said she could give us a ride back to my house. You can stay for dinner this time if you want since my dad is out of town until Thursday."
That was what did it that was the straw that broke the camel’s proverbial back. Ramona whipped around so fast that her dirty blond hair was all over the place, like a cape of justice flowing out behind her. Her normally dark eyes were alight with her anger, her teeth clenched so she spoke in a muffled sort of way, as though it pained her to speak to him at all.
"Just stop it," she hissed, Mrs. Bond edging into the room and shutting the door. "Stop it with this good guy act of yours; I'm not buying it anymore! I gave you the benefit of the doubt, and you blew it. So it's over, got me? We'll split the project down the middle, and we'll each do half. I don't care about the grade anymore, so long as I don't have to listen to you spout anymore bullshit at me I'm satisfied. So back off, Davis!"
Alec recoiled like he'd been smacked, stunned by her sudden outburst and even more so at her accusations. He had no idea what he had done, or maybe what he had not done, but it was very clear that she was upset with him. He pulled out his copy of Pygmalion and his scant few notes, but he was barely listening as Mrs. Bond began her lecture. Had he accidentally forgotten to do something? Did she feel as though he had blown her off? He was racking his brain but continuously came up short, chewing on the end of his pencil so hard he bit off a chunk of eraser and had to discreetly spit it out in his hand.
He was busy making a list of potential indiscretions, of which there were few possibilities that had come to mind, when he was called on by the teacher. She had to say his name twice to even get his attention, and he looked up from his list in utter confusion. Mrs. Bond could see by the look on his face that he had no idea what was going on, asking her question again to make
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