by Chloe Smith
Finally after ten seconds of gawking at her, Tristan made his way to her desk where she was hurriedly unpacking her books and placing her elegantly written essays on her desk.
Tristan fake coughed to get her attention, but Scarlett didn't even look up to glance at him; she just continued with her work. Tristan fake coughed again...louder.
Finally she looked up, "What?" she asked in a clearly irritated tone.
"Look, Scarlett, please, just listen to me. I don't know what I did in the past—"
"Oh, I know," Scarlett interrupted him. "Because all you give a crap about is yourself and your popularity. You lie to friends to stay popular and keep your social status uptight. And you better be glad that I don't go off and blab your secrets to them, granted they probably won't even listen to me if I tried, so I won't waste my precious time. And do you know why they won't listen to me? Because I am smart and proud of it. I would rather be intelligent and show it, than be smart and hide it." Scarlett's speech was brilliant and very argumentative and it left Tristan speechless.
"I know, and I am ashamed of it," Tristan started. Scarlett faux laughed in mock amazement, but didn't interrupt. "But would you just—?" The warning bell rang and cut Tristan off.
"Look, I don't care what you have to say about the past. All I care about is the future. And right now my future is about to be corrupted because I am going to fail this project. We need to get started on it. So, whenever you have free time in your precious, little social life, do tell me. Thanks," Scarlett hissed, turning back around to face her desk.
"Scarlett, listen to me!" Tristan was beginning to get frantic; they had less than forty-five seconds to talk. "I need to know about what happened—"
"About what happened in the past? It's pointless to even bring it up. I probably won't ever forgive you for it, but I will tell you this," Scarlett whipped back around to face Tristan. And her eyes were filled witch such coldness that Tristan took a cautious step back, "You ruined everything for me." The last five words were spoken with the utmost loathing that Hades, himself, would have shaken in fright.
"Okay, class, take your seats, so we may begin," Mr. Ortega said, clapping his hands just after the late bell rang.
"Scarlett—" Tristan began. Scarlett was still staring at him with the all the hatred of the world bottled up in those green eyes.
"Mr. Cox, take your seat, please," Mr. Ortega interrupted him.
Tristan didn't break the stare; he longed for Scarlett to understand and forgive him for whatever he had done in the last few seconds he could get, and she glared at him with such negative passion he knew there would be no way to earn her forgiveness any time soon. But soon Mr. Ortega cleared is throat, and Scarlett tore her eyes away from Tristan's to look at him.
"Is there something you two would like to share with the rest of the class?" he asked.
"No, Cox was actually going to his seat," Scarlett turned her glare back at Tristan. "Right now," she added.
Tristan, reluctant to go, left Scarlett's desk and made his way back to his own.
During the rest of the class, Tristan could vaguely hear whispers such as:
"Why was Tristan talking to Scarlett?"
"Well, they are lab partners..."
"But don't you think he should think about his social status?"
"He can do whatever the hell he likes. And a stupid status shouldn't get in his way."
But Tristan didn't pay any attention to this quiet gossip; his full attention was on the redhead sitting two seats in front of him.
And what made his chest hurt with an odd pain was when Scarlett brought her hand up and wiped away a silent tear. Made his chest hurt? Why did his chest ache so much for this simple, unpopular, unimportant, unnoticeable, smart, creative, beautiful, broken girl? Broken because of him. And he was going to fix that.
Oh, my God, I'm obsessed with her...
That was the only reason she was always in his mind and the only reason his chest hurt. It had to be the only reason because he couldn't think of any other possibility other than that. He was obsessed. But not with her; he was obsessed with finding out the truth. And he was still determined to get it from her.
When class ended, Scarlett was out of the door first, and Tristan couldn't get to her in time before he was bombarded by his football team.
"Hey, Tris," Kyle said, completely blocking his way. "Ready for practice?"
"Yeah, sure," Tristan answered distractedly.
"Dude, you smell like sex."
"What? Oh, yeah," Tristan glared at Kyle. "You just had to already be so drunk last night that you couldn't help me stay away from Alice." He didn't know why he was blaming his faultless friend, but he wanted to rant it out, and Kyle was the perfect person to rant it out to.
"Sorry, man—wait, she did it? She spiked your drink? And you fucked Alice?"
"Shhh. Shut the hell up," Tristan hushed, but it was too late. He could already hear whispers from other students as they heard this new piece of gossip.
"I can't believe she actually did it. So, are you two dating yet?" Kyle asked.
"Not a chance. Now, c'mon, let's get to practice."
Chapter Five
Lab finished as slowly as possible for Scarlett, and the entire time all Scarlett could feel was Tristan's stare on her. Why did he want to apologize now about the past? Even though Scarlett still held a grudge against the jerk, she didn't want his apology for the past. She didn't even want to think too much about the past because it hurt too much. Damn, she didn't realize she had been crying until she saw a tear fall onto the notebook paper on her desk. She quickly brought her hand up to wipe the tears from her face. The day that he had ruined her life had been the exact same day that she had found out her father and beloved stepmother were dead. Not only where they dead, but they had been murdered…by her half brother. Her life had been so completely perfect before that fateful day. Everything had turned into ash around her as she realized the two people whom she loved were gone forever. And then her brother had been sent to that horrid hospital only a few days afterwards, and Scarlett had been stuck with her unloving mother. Her life had become miserable.
She had always planned to get Tristan back somehow for doing what he had done so many years ago, but she was too nice. She couldn't destroy him like he had destroyed her. If only Tristan had had the smarts to shut his loud mouth, her life could have stayed at least a little normal at school, but, of course, Tristan couldn't keep his large trap shut to save his own pitiful life. If only he had kept the crucial information to himself, Scarlett could have suffered in silence about the death of her parents…
She couldn't think about it; no, not now...not ever. She didn't want to bring back the memories of the pale, cold, still corpses of her father and stepmother. Damn, too late. Finally the bell finally rang, signaling the end of school, and Scarlett hurriedly packed her things and ran out the door and to her locker.
"Hey, Scar." Kate came up behind her, causing her to drop the papers she had been stuffing rather roughly into her locker.
"Holy crap, Kate, you scared the hell out of me," Scarlett said, bending down to retrieve her fallen essays. Kate went down to help too.
While they were kneeling on the ground, gathering scattered papers, Kate asked, "Why did I startle you? You know, you've been very finicky lately."
"Yeah, well, I thought you were someone else," Scarlett said, not looking up to meet Kate's inquisitive expression.
"Is it—?"
"Yes, it's him. He won't get out of my head!"
"Maybe you should just forgive him. You know he didn't think it would ruin your—"
"I don't want to talk about it right now, Kate. As for forgiving him, that possibility entered my brain about one thousand times. And do you know what the final resolution came to be each time? Not in a million centuries."
"Okay, it's your decision. Did you see the way he was looking at you the entire time during lab? And then when you started crying...sorry, I mean whe
n your allergies kicked in, did you see his face? That poor boy—"
"Yeah, he's such a poor boy when he ruined my po—"
"Hey, Scar! Kate!" Ginny and Meghan walked up behind Scarlett and Kate. All four of them walked out the school building together, talking about the movie they were planning to see that weekend.
"...and I heard that you are supposed to jump in your seat about every ten seconds. Won't that be fabulous?" Ginny was saying.
"Wait...what are we going to see?" Kate asked.
"Drag Me to Hell. And I bet I know what happens in the end..." Ginny answered.
"Lemme guess, the main character gets lifted up into Heaven surrounded by hundreds of humming angels. Am I right?" Meghan said.
"One hundred percent correct!"
"Okay, well, see you guys tomorrow," Kate said, breaking out of the group to get into her car.
"Yeah, see ya." Meghan was in her car too.
"Um...Ginny, we're at your car now," Scarlett said, completely stopped in front of a beat up Chevy.
"Oh, okay, right," Ginny said, turning her gaze back on Scarlett. "Oh, and by the way: have fun."
"Wait, what?" Scarlett was left dumbfounded.
"Hey," a male voice said behind Scarlett. Before she turned around to see who it was, Scarlett glanced at the rearview mirror in Ginny's car and saw a wide smile on Ginny's lips.
Scarlett turned around to see Francis Rogers, the senior who worked at Charles' hospital. Oh, no.
"Uh...what are you doing here, Frankie?" Scarlett asked, not trying to hide the quizzical expression that clearly showed on her face. "If it has something to do with Charles, you could have just called me on my cell phone. I mean, I'm pretty sure the hospital has my number on the board because I thought that I gave it to them four years ago when Charles was first admitted. I think that David was the one I gave it to, but if I'm wrong, hey, it's been four years. I can give it again if you need it—" Scarlett was rambling and she knew it. She always started blabbing when she got nervous.
"No, I don't need your number. I have it already," Francis said with a dazzling smile on his lips.
"Then…what's up?" Scarlett asked quizzically again. She turned slightly and started walking to her car, hoping that Francis would give a quick explanation and be done with it.
But Francis had other ideas; he swiftly grabbed her hand before she could leave. Spinning her back around to face him, he said, "I was actually wondering what you are doing tomorrow."
Oh, no. Scarlett caught her breath, "Wait...are you—?"
"—asking you out…again? Yes. And I don't give up easily," Francis warned.
"So I can tell," Scarlett said, trying not to hyperventilating, but she caught herself to ask him. "Why are you so interested?" It didn't come out harshly or anything; she merely asked it in a curious voice.
"I don't know why you haven't noticed yet, but you're hot…especially on laundry days," Francis said, flashing Scarlett his dazzling smile.
Scarlett smiled and did what she always did when she was nervous or flattered: she began playing with her hair. Her eyes slid down to look at his outfit. He wasn't dressed in his usual scrubs like he always was at the hospital. Instead today he was wearing a form-fitting T-shirt with a black, leather jacket. And his long legs were donned in designer jeans that were pre-ripped. Scarlett's eyes snapped back up to his face while blush embarrassingly crept up her cheeks from looking down for so long at his jeans and wondering how what was underneath them looked.
Scarlett mentally began to think over the pros and cons. Pros: Francis was a senior. Francis was hot. Francis had never been mean to her. Francis was almost nineteen years old, and Scarlett knew he was smart because of the certificates he had from his classes, so he showed some sign of intellect. Francis had complimented her plenty of times. Francis was a successful intern at the hospital that she visited every weekend. Cons: ... Scarlett's mind came up blank, and that didn't happen often.
"Well, I have to study—"
"No, you don't," Francis said with a mischievous gleam in his eyes.
Scarlett smiled and blinked bashfully up at Francis, "Then I'm free anytime."
"All right, tomorrow after school then, do you need a ride home?" he asked, looking over his shoulder at a rather spectacular motorcycle.
"Sure." Scarlett didn't miss a heart beat, "Wait...How will I get to school in the morning, my car is...?" She looked ahead, indicating her hand-me-down car.
"I'll pick you up at seven and drive you back."
Scarlett was amazed by her lucky turn of fortune. She knew that she had freaked on Francis on Friday, but it had been so unexpected, and she hadn't been ready for a relationship on such short notice. But now she was ready to take a chance. She still couldn't believe that this morning she had been completely late for school...again and had to briefly put her hair in a sloppy ponytail—and she hated anything that could be described as 'sloppy'. Now, she was going to ride a motorcycle with a senior honors intern at a hospital.
Francis and Scarlett began walking over to his bike. As they got closer, and the bike got bigger, Scarlett began to rethink things. She was always up for adventure, but she wasn't quite up for a slim mistake and...CRASH!
Francis noticed the falter in her step and the expression of worry she wore.
"Have you ever ridden one of these?" he asked her. She really is cute when she's scared, Francis thought.
Scarlett merely shook her head, still looking at the rather large bike uncertainly.
"Well, don't worry; you're safe with me." Francis handed her his spare helmet and straddled the massive bike. "Well, come on now, hop on."
Scarlett straddled the bike behind Francis and wrapped her arms firmly around his back, clasping her fingers together at his ripped stomach. She gently laid her head against Francis' back. Her heartbeat was already going about one hundred miles per hour, and the bike was only going zero.
Francis cranked the bike and sped out of the parking lot. As soon as the wind began blowing hard against Scarlett's hair, she didn't feel scared anymore. She felt rather free. And she realized she was going to enjoy the new relationship with Francis Rogers.
The final bell rang, and Tristan saw Scarlet scuttle out of the classroom as fast as her feet could carry her, which was pretty fast. He had no hope of extracting further information about their past from her. He had football practice, and she probably had a paper to write that was due next year.
Tristan sulked into the locker room alongside the rest of his varsity football team.
"Hey, Tris, what's got you down?" Kyle asked, taking in his grim expression.
"Nothing," Tristan mumbled.
"Awesome," boy, are my friends stupid? "So, for football practice today, can we...?" Football, football, football...is that really all you talk about, Kyle?
Tristan just nodded his head, not really paying any attention to his clueless friend. Sometimes he wished that his friends really knew him. Tristan wasn't the actual Golden Boy that everyone thought he was. He didn't only care about football and popularity, though he did thoroughly enjoy the latter of the two. But still, Tristan cared also about his grades and his family and his videogames and a lot of other things that most of the students at Watson High probably didn't even know existed; for two examples: bonding with siblings and caring about people besides just you. Tristan wasn't as selfish as everybody thought he was. And by everybody, he mainly meant Scarlett. He didn't know why she thought he was so self-absorbed. What right did she have to think anything bad of him?
And then he tuned back into Kyle's conversation with no one because Tristan obviously wasn't paying attention. Tristan realized that Kyle was still talking about football and tuned back out of what his best friend was saying. For some odd reason, he was losing more and more interest in sports and gaining more and more interest in...
No, no, no! Tristan's brain screamed at him, you love sports, you love friends, you love popularity, and you love your life just as it is! She's just some
girl who caught your interest for a tincey wincey second. Now snap out of it and get back to your normal life that revolves around football and only football. Think of nothing else; think of nobody else. Only football. You need that scholarship. Football. Football. Football. Stop thinking about her.
I guess you're right. Just some girl. Just some girl. Just some girl.