by Tucker, RH
“I know.”
Her lips find my ear. “He said he’d let us use his bedroom.” She nibbles on my ear, as her hand slid down from my chest into the water, over my stomach.
"Well, isn't he just a super friend." I look past her, over at Jeremy. He's looking back at me, giving me a salute with a cup, no doubt filled with more beer.
Her hand slides lower, her fingers sliding under the waistband of my board shorts. The hot tub has bubbles going, but it isn't like you can't see what she's doing. I push her hand away and stand up.
“Sorry, I actually have a homework assignment I gotta make up before tomorrow.” I step out, grabbing my towel, as she looks up at me with her fake pouty lips again. “Matt?”
“Huh,” he mumbles.
“Come on, time to go.”
Another reason I'm not drinking is I'm our DD. His eyes dart from me back to Sarah, and I know exactly what he's thinking. "You sure?"
“Yeah.” I nod as I dry my hair.
Grabbing our shirt and shoes, we walk past Jeremy and Lucas, into the house. A slight tinge of remorse hits me, feeling bad for how abrupt I was with Sarah. Turning around, my sorrow vanishes as I see Sarah already flirting with another guy, but her eyes meet mine and she mouths ‘call me’. I let out an incredulous scoff, as I roll my eyes and head to my car.
Chapter 2
Emma
I have a decision to make. Either go with my nearly worn out Converse Chucks or the scuffed-up Doc Martens. Today I feel like doing a throwback to the goth look. Black net stockings, a dark purple skirt that goes down just above my knees, and my favorite Star Wars shirt that has the original movie poster. Sure, it'll be a little chilly outside, but I'm going to be inside most of the day anyway.
I slather on the eyeliner and apply the darkest, reddest, lipstick I have. Okay, I do dab a bit of glitter on my cheeks, but I love that stuff. Now, it's about deciding what shoes to wear. The boots would make the outfit, but my Chucks are so comfy. I hear Jen's horn, honking outside.
Deciding on the boots, I quickly slip them on and grab my backpack, leaving the house. “Bye, Mom!” I yell, without waiting for a reply.
Running out to Jen’s Corolla, I fling my backpack in the backseat.
“Hey,” she says, pulling out on to the road.
"Ugh!" I groan, already feeling the uncomfortableness of the boots. "I should've gone with my Chucks."
Jen glances down at my feet. “Are those Doc Martens?” I nod. “You’re so crazy. You’re gonna be stuck in those things all day.”
“It went with the outfit.” I pull out my phone and start scrolling through Instagram.
“Emma, I’ll never understand you.”
"What?"
“If you were like me–”
"Yeah, because we all want to be Jennifer Harris." I tease her, twirling my hair with a finger while making my voice super high. ‘Hi, I'm Jen. I love sunflowers and macchiatos."
“Bitch.” She laughs.
“Right back atchya.”
“Anyways, if you were like me, or any other girl, I could understand your statement. Like this morning, it took me ten minutes to decide if I wanted to go with my pink top or that lime green one.”
“Glad you chose the pink one, it’s cute.”
She looks back down at my boots. “But you don’t have a typical attire. You dress based on who knows what, which is something I’ll never understand.”
“That’s not true. I just like to be random when it comes to clothes.”
“Tell me one thing that’s not random about you.”
“My Star Wars and Harry Potter shirts.”
She nods, pulling to a stop sign. “Okay, I’ll give you that.” She looks over at my phone. “Oh, did you text back Homework Stranger last night?”
I let out a scoff. I still don't understand why Jen egged me on to reply to whoever texted me. We just finished watching a rom-com movie on Netflix, when I received the text message. Other than being my best friend for the past four years, Jen indulged me in my movie watching habits. She put up with my nerdy choices, like Marvel movies or Harry Potter, but we're both rom-com fans. Right before the credits started rolling was when I got the text.
"No." I return my attention to my phone.
“Why not? We probably know who it is; you should’ve asked.”
“Jen, why? I’ve got enough friends. I don’t need to go making new friends with a complete stranger.”
"News flash, Emma. Everyone is a complete stranger until you become friends. That's how it works."
“Whatever. You know what I mean. I still can’t believe I texted him for so long.”
“So, you think it’s a guy?”
“I don’t know.” I shrug.
I really don’t. And I didn’t think about it much after she left either. Whoever it was needed the homework assignment, which I know there’s no way they’re going to be able to get done before class today. Those five chapters took me all weekend. Sure, I went to the art store with Jen on Saturday, but still.
“You should text them. See if they finished.”
“No.” I give her a confused look. “Why would I do that?”
"I don't know. Who knows, maybe it's someone who's even in the class with you." She pulls into the student parking lot, and once she parks, she turns and stares at me.
“What?” I keep my eyes locked on my phone, now scrolling through Twitter.
“Text, text, text,” she says, starting to pound the steering wheel lightly. “Text. Text. Text.”
“Ugh, you’re so annoying in the morning.”
“Only when I don’t get my macchiato.” She gives me an obnoxious smile. Raising my phone, I quickly turn and take a picture. “Hey, what was that?”
“Snapchat.” I laugh, as I grab my bag and leave the car, captioning the picture with ‘Without Starbucks, Jen’s a freak ;P’ and add it to my story. I know she’s going to yell at me when she sees it later.
Despite my best efforts, I can't help but look around Mr. Hilton's calculus class, as I walk into the room. It's my first class of the day, so if Mystery Texter did complete the assignment, he or she would probably look somewhat sleepless right about now. Taking my seat, I scan the room, trying to be as subtle as I can about it. Ethan, who sits across from me, quirks an eyebrow.
“What’s up?” he asks.
“Hmm? Oh, nothing.” I straighten back up in my seat.
Ethan's a nice guy, and we're friendly, but I wouldn't go as far as to call him my friend. It's not like we hang out or anything. Maybe classmate is a better way of describing him, and most of the other seniors in my class. Jen's my best friend, but other than that, I think I can count on one hand the number of people I'm close with in school. Jen's the extrovert of our duo, and I'm the introvert. She always teases me about it, calling me the ‘cliché artsy girl' who keeps to herself. Which, I guess is true. But it's not because I'm shy. There are just lots of fake people.
Jocks pretending to be super cool, half of them already the popular kids, acting like big shots. But I’ve seen what happens to those popular kids at school. The prom kings and queens. My mom was prom queen. Then, one year after high school, she marries my dad, has a baby, and she’s been a housewife ever since. Wow, that sounds like I’m trashing my mom, and I don’t mean to. I love her. But she’s the one who’s ingrained it in me ever since I started high school.
“Esmeralda,” she said, giving me a serious look as she pulled into the parking lot, my freshman year. “High school can be fun, but don’t let what happens here, change who you are. Kids will be kids. Some of them cruel, some stuck up, and some jerks. But high school is only four years. And when it’s over, then you find out who you are.”
I didn’t even try to understand it at the time. I kept nervously looking over my shoulder as Jen waited for me to get out of the car. But over my high school career, that morning has always stuck with me. And I’ve done what I want to do. I take art classes. I volunteer. I do things that
I want to do, even if other people think it’s stupid or lame, because like she said, high school is only four years. When it ends, that’s when life really begins. It’s another reason I’ve never bothered trying to date anyone at school either. Not that I have a whole line of guys waiting to ask me out.
Which is another thing that Jen and I are opposites on. She loves boys. Okay, I love boys too, but she really loves them and has no problem calling herself a flirt. And she tries to get me to go on double dates with her all the time. I tried it a couple of times, but it was obvious the guys were there to try and make a move.
“If you’d just put something normal on,” Jen said one time, which led to the biggest fight we’ve ever had.
She’d convinced me to go out with her and a guy she was dating last year. When she came and picked me up, I was dressed how I always dress; however I want to. I decided to go with some skinny jeans, a crop top, and my Chucks. Hey, I said they’re comfy. I guess that would’ve been normal enough, but I topped it off with my Hufflepuff necktie, loosely wrapped around my neck and wore a thick pair of glasses. I usually wear my contacts, but I wanted the nerdy glasses look, which I've always kind of liked.
As the night progressed, my date kept commenting on my tie, asking me to take it off. He kept saying it looked dorky, especially since I ‘had to’ wear my glasses that night. I ignored him for the rest of the night and by the time we got home–which was earlier than Jen wanted because my date was ‘over the night’–she yelled at me.
“What does it matter what I’m wearing? It’s just a tie!” I’d yelled back at her.
“And your glasses?”
“Jen, you know I wear glasses.”
"Ha!" She exaggerated the sound. "You always wear contacts. Why put on your glasses tonight? And even then, I know I've seen other glasses you have. Why'd you have to wear those? Chad was totally put off."
“I don’t care!” I yelled back. “If he gets turned off because I’m wearing glasses, then he’s shallower than I thought.”
“Shallow?” Jen looked at me like I had slapped her. “Well, I think that too. Does that mean I’m shallow?”
“Jen, you know that’s not what I meant.”
“Maybe it is! God, Emma! Why do always have to be so … different!”
She stormed out of my room, and we didn't talk for two weeks. She finally came over one night, and we settled everything. She apologized for getting upset, and I apologized for how I'd acted. Because, in reality, I did do it on purpose. I could've worn something normal, but I wore my tie and glasses because I didn't want to have to tell that guy no and be looked at as lame. I didn't like him, and since he was a popular guy, I'm sure not many girls had told him no. But I figured he didn't want to be seen kissing some ‘nerd' with a Harry Potter tie and huge glasses. I was right.
After scanning the room one more time, it looks like everyone's turning in their assignment. No tired looks on faces, at least no more than usual. Facing forward, I reach down to my feet. It's been less than an hour, and I already feel my stupid boots hurting.
By the time lunch rolls around, I could feel a blister starting to form under my right big toe. Plopping down next to Jen, I pull out my sandwich and take a bite, while scrolling through my phone.
“So, did you?”
“Did I what?” I answer without looking at her.
“Text them.”
“Oh my God, you’re still going on about that?”
“Well, did you see anyone who looked like a zombie in first period?” I shake my head, taking a drink of water. “So then text them.”
“What for?”
“I don’t know, it’s weird. How crazy is it that someone randomly texts you, thinking it’s someone else, but it’s still someone you might know?”
“If anything, you’d know them, I wouldn’t.”
“Hey, you know people,” she says as she opens a bag of chips. “Anyways, it’s weird though, right? I mean, they could’ve texted anyone. Someone in Wisconsin or something. But they didn’t, so you need to text them.”
“Gah, fine!” I drop my shoulders, giving her an exasperated look. “If it’ll get you to shut up, I’ll text them.”
"I love you." A broad smile crosses her lips.
I look down at my phone and suddenly go blank. Why am I nervous to text a complete stranger? What if it’s someone I did know? Would they want to know me? And why am I analyzing a random text to a stranger so much?
Chapter 3
Carter
My pencil moves furiously, as I scramble it across my paper at our lunch table. I stayed up until three o’clock, working on as much of the assignment as I could before finally going to sleep. I’m going to be dead at practice after school, but I have to make sure the assignment is done.
“Dude.” Jeremy looks over the table as he takes a bite of pizza. “I still can’t believe you turned down what would’ve been at least a BJ, to do homework.”
“Shut up,” I mutter under my breath, scribbling more of the equation I’m working on.
"Don't worry. I made sure my bedroom didn't go to waste."
“I’m sure you did.”
“Carter, why don’t you copy someone’s?” Lucas, who’s sitting next to Jeremy, looks over the table at my paper.
“No way.” I flip over to the next page. “You heard what happened last month. Mr. Hilton caught Phillip and Lewis cheating and is docking them down a whole letter grade at the end of the semester. I can’t afford to get docked down a letter.”
I don’t look up, but he must look confused. “His graduation gift,” Matt says, sitting next to me.
“Oh, that’s right,” Lucas replies. “Well, you can at least look at their work, so you’re not stressing.”
Matt takes a bite of his sandwich. “I told him the same thing,” he says with a mouthful.
“No, you guys.” I finally look up. “Last week he said we’re having a test later this week. It’s most likely on all this stuff, and I gotta pass the test too.”
“Still, man.” Jeremy shoots me a look. “Sarah was looking fine as hell last night. She ended up making out with Scott, I think.”
I give Jeremy a deadpan look. “Yeah, and you wonder why it’s not a big deal that I don’t hook up with her anymore. That girl just gives it away.”
Matt snickers as Lucas let out a laugh.
“True.” Jeremy nods. “Plus, you already had a piece of that pie earlier this year.” He flashes the conceited smile he likes to show.
Jeremy loves to bring up the homecoming incident as if it's a badge of honor. Inwardly, I'm still embarrassed by it, but outwardly, I do joke around about it being awesome. I remember later that night, Jeremy and the rest of our basketball team all high-fiving me. It put me on another level.
Rumors spread quickly that night, and before I knew it, we had committed a number of lewd acts in the women's bathroom, the men's bathroom, and a janitor's closet. I was going to tell Jeremy and Lucas the truth, but by the time school rolled around the following week, my popularity had skyrocketed. After that, more rumors started making their rounds, and with each new one, a new level of popularity was unlocked. A couple of weeks went by, and I couldn't bring myself to tell my friends. I didn't like being so concerned with what people thought about me, but this is high school. Our reputation is, like, what determines our net-worth. And after homecoming, I became worth a whole lot more.
My phone chirps.
UNKNOWN: So’d u finish the assignment?
I grin at the screen, wondering who this person is.
ME: Of course
Hey, no need to tell them I’m still working on it. I decide to ask the mystery texter who they are, wondering if they’re even in my class. That’d be weird.
ME: BTW who is this?
I wait for a couple of minutes, but there's no answer. Shrugging my shoulders, I turn back to my book. Only two more pages to complete and I still have a class before calculus.
UNKNOWN: U tell me first
ME: I asked first
First bell rings, letting everyone know lunch is over and it's time to get to class, so I start packing everything up. Jeremy and Lucas take off, but Matt waits for me since we have our last two classes together. Walking away from the table, my phone chirps.
UNKNOWN: U texted me first. That means I should know who’s texting. Plus, I helped u
I stare at my phone with a little annoyance. Even if I did text them first, I’m not going to give this random person my name.
ME: Watevs. Thanks for the help HW-Buddy
I laugh to myself as I head to my next class with Matt.
Chapter 4
Emma
UNKNOWN: Watevs. Thanks for the help HW-Buddy
“What the heck is ‘HW-Buddy’?”
Jen glances over my shoulder and shrugs, as we get up from our table. “I don’t know. I’ll see you later.” She waves, as she heads down the hallway to her next class.
ME: ???
I switch my phone to silent in case whoever this is decides to text me during class. I'm still looking at the messages, wondering why exactly I'm exchanging texts with a total stranger. I mean, if they are a senior at Woodbridge, then I guess it's not some forty-year-old guy, but still. I probably should end this soon.
I’m about to slide my phone into my pocket when I feel the blister on my toe again and cringe in pain. Then someone shouts, as I slam against a chest.
“Whoa.” Carter Dixon is standing in front of me, between myself and the door to our classroom.
“Ew.” I look up at him, annoyed.
"Excuse me?" He curls a lip. "You walked into me. Of course, I could've let you keep going and run right into the metal door." He knocks his knuckles against the door. "You seemed to be distracted. I saw you behind me and opened the door, but you kept walking."