𝙼𝚘𝚗𝚍𝚊𝚢, 𝚂𝚎𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚎𝚛 𝟷𝟿𝚝𝚑
Griffin POV

If people had stepped out of my way before the accident, now they practically jump out of the way.

I refuse to be one of those weird, injured kids who slinks through the hallways like a ghost. No one will catch me tapping on shoulders, mumbling, excuse me, or waiting for an opening in the crowds.

Instead, once lunch ends and I've regathered my backpack, I straighten my spine, shuffle the cane in my right hand, and take off.

The rhythmic click of the cane hitting the ground gives everybody enough of a warning. Boys and girls alike scurry to hit the walls, their eyes tracking me as if I'm a black bear. One boy isn't lucky enough to move out of my path, so I have no issue jamming the end of the cane down onto his toe.

He yelps and levitates in the air for a moment before whirling around, his eyes ablaze. "Hey! Dude, what the f—... um, sorry, Griffin," he babbles and lowers his chin as he limps after his buddies, favoring his stubbed foot.

"Watch your fucking step next time," I retort and cast him a cold glare as I keep limping down the hall myself.

The anger I feel towards that boy's stupidity is overridden with satisfaction.

I may be crippled, but these fools still consider me a threat.

Truthfully, I did not need to put as much weight on that kid's foot as I did. I have been doing simple, easy strengthening exercises every night at home, especially after that episode I had in the bathroom a little over a week ago. I've been taking the medication the doctor prescribed and using the cane more than I ever used the crutches. Aside from the usual pins and needles, my knee has had no significant pain over the past week. It will start to ache if I cut out the cane completely, except I've been relying on it like a thumb ever since Ira gave it to me.

This is weird to admit, but I'm actually feeling pretty damn good.

I don't think I'll ever be as happy as I was this time last year. On the other hand, at least I'm not as bitter as I was two months ago. I'm okay with being somewhere in the middle.

Up ahead, coming around the corner, I recognize the puny little Mexican boy that's been spending a scarily weird amount of time near Parker during lunch. His name is some sort of sliced meat that I don't care enough to remember. Or, it might be a kid's toy. Rubik?

I don't know him well, yet he pretends to know me. I see it in the way his eyes light up when he approaches. He tilts his chin up, the black wave of hair on his head flopping back. I've spent enough time around my sister to know he brushed and blow-dried it this morning.

"What's up, Griffin?" He asks, eyes shining. The way he checks me out makes me scoff audibly.

"Fuck off," I reply and keep walking.

Parker and Miles emit enough gay vibes for the entire west coast. The last thing I need to be is associated with another member of that cult.

By the time I make it to the other side of the school for science class, the warning bell rings shrilly. The sound of the cane hitting the tile floor echoes down the empty hallway until I slip into class.

I used to be one of the first people to get to this class. Now, I'm usually the last. My leg may be feeling better, but that doesn't mean I'll be winning any relay races any time soon.

Seventeen other teenagers are already sitting down at their lab desks. When I walk in, a few glance at me, then they turn their attention back to finishing up last-minute homework or preparing for the hour. Only a handful of girls let their eyes wander.

I ignore them all as I limp over to my desk on the side of the room closest to the windows. The desk I'm assigned to is empty, which makes me scowl. Where the hell is Jackson, my partner? He's the only one who religiously beats me here to set everything up.

Damn it. He must be absent, I grumble to myself in my head. My sorta-okay mood instantly tanks.

Tossing my backpack down on the desktop, I lean the cane against the desk leg and sink onto the stool. This hour is going to suck some major ass.

Then, I see Ali moving in the corner of my eye. She has been seated at the table across the aisle from me all year, except I never actually see her. I'm seated closest to the window, Jackson sits next to me, Ali's partner sits closest to the aisle next to him, and then Ali is next to her. Generally.

Today, she doesn't have a partner, either.

Christ above. I hope I'll suddenly have a stress-induced heart attack and die, so I don't have to deal with her bullshit.

The sound of acrylic nails tapping the hard, black desktop forces me to glance at her.

The fuck does she want? Didn't we just see each other at lunch?

Ali smiles at me when she meets my gaze, her brown eyes softening. "Hey, Grif. I was wondering when you'd show up."

"Here I am. I only have two speeds nowadays." I look away from her to zip open my bag and pull out a notebook. The last bell rings.

Ali opens her mouth to say more until Mrs. Enger walks out from behind her desk.

"Alright, class, settle down! It's time to set aside your conversations until after class. Please give me your attention for a few minutes. That's all I ask." She pauses to push her wireframes further up on her nose. Mrs. Enger may be in her thirties, yet her style is stuck about sixty years in the past.

She surveys all of us, her gaze catching on the empty space between Ali and me.

Fuck.

"Does anyone know where Jackson and Luna are today?" Mrs. Enger asks, her attention swiveling to Ali.

Ali immediately straightens up. She definitely has wet dreams about being an actual teacher's pet.

"Luna texted me and said she wasn't feeling good today," Ali chirps.

Mrs. Enger looks at me expectantly.

I shrug. Who the hell does she think I am? Jackson's mother? It's not my fault that I'm not a stalker.

"Well, since we're conducting an experiment today, you both need partners. This works out perfectly since everybody else has their partner." Mrs. Enger waves her hand. "Griffin?"

"I'm not fucking getting up. Ali." I point down at the stool next to me. The words are hardly out of my mouth, and she's scrambling to gather her supplies. All the girls around her desk give her death glares as if she won the lottery.

Mrs. Enger scowls and snaps her fingers at me. "Language, young man. Okay," she keeps talking and moves her attention off me, "today, we are going to put the information that we've learned about magnetic fields to good use by building our own!"

I wait until her back is turned before rolling my eyes. As if that's the first time she's heard me swear. She's literally the only teacher that continues to reprimand me, day after day, for the past four years. Dad always says I'm lucky to have him teach at this school, too, because without his influence, she'd kick me out of her class for my attitude. If he were to ask me, she keeps putting up with me because I religiously receive A's on all of my work.

As Mrs. Enger continues to explain the experiment, Ali leans closer to me. The overwhelming smell of coconuts makes me wrinkle my nose.

"No sign of Jackson today?" She whispers.

That's really the best conversation starter she could come up with?

"No. I'm not his keeper," I mumble back and dig a pencil out of my bag. I scribble down notes as Enger talks.

Ali nods, her long brown hair bobbing. "That's fair enough. Hey, I haven't asked in a while: how is your leg feeling?"

I look over at her from under my eyelashes, mentally trying to tell her, really? Is this the best time for a conversation?

Whatever she sees on my face makes her cheeks go red.

"... so, with that being said, I laid out nine shoe boxes on the back counter. There's one for each set of partners with the necessary supplies. I have printed instructions on my desk right here." Enger knocks her knuckles on her desk. "This experiment should take up the entire class period. Once you finish, come get me, and I'll check your work. Any questions?"

I grab my cane and press it down on the floor for balance as I pick my weight off the stool. My movement is enough of an answer because the majority of the class begins to get up.

"Alright, then. Come see me if anything pops up," Enger says and walks over to the other side of the room to finish cleaning up the experiments that the freshman must've made this morning.

Ali hops onto her feet and watches me worriedly, even as I successfully get to my feet. I talk before she can ask any more stupid questions.

"You can get the supplies. I'll get the sheet," I say as I turn around and begin to walk away.

"Oh, okay!" She gives me a thumbs-up and practically skips to the back.

Ali's behavior makes my eye twitch. I don't know what it is about her, but she's always rubbed me the wrong way. Hell, everyone in this school rubs me the wrong way.

There's no commotion to grab the instruction sheet when I approach because everyone scatters and makes room for me. I don't say a word as I ignore their curious stares directed at the cane and go back to the desk. It's not like I've been a part of this class for the past three weeks or anything. I may as well be an animal on display at the zoo.

Ali beats me back to the desk, and she sets out the supplies. I recognize the breadboard, various batteries, voltage regulators, wires, and other odds and ends. As I sit down again, a great thought dawns on me. It would be pretty easy to rewire this stupid thing and shock myself to death.

Unfortunately, the voltage probably wouldn't do anything other than embarrass me in front of everybody.

"What is a magnetic field?" I ask Ali as I set the paper down on the desk.

She looks over at me, tracking my movement as I sit. "What?"

"Here." I point to the question on the paper. "I'm asking you."

"Oh!" She clears her throat and self-consciously pulls at her hair. "It is a region around a magnetic material or a moving electric charge within which the force of magnetism acts."

"Jesus Christ. Did you memorize the exact definition?" My tone doesn't come out as teasing: I genuinely ask her because I feel like I could've asked Siri on my phone the same question, and that robot would spit out the same answer. At least Ali is right, I guess.

I modify the answer a little as I write it down in my notebook.

Ali giggles as she begins to assemble the circuit. "I did. It's the best way I retain information."

"Interesting." I take the initiative to draw out the data table on the bottom half of the page and fill in the blanks. For as much as I shit on school, this is the quietest that my brain has been all day. Science and math have always been my strong suits. Something about the unknowns put me at ease, which is kind of ironic.

"Why? How do you study?" Ali prods and scowls as she shuffles the wires around on the circuit.

I put down my pencil with a sigh and reach over to snag the circuit out of her hands. I don't follow the sheet's instructions as she did a second ago. Instead, I grab a stray wire in front of her and connect it before fiddling with the cables.

"I don't know. I can't explain it. My brain can read shit and remember it." Snatching one of the magnets from the box, I hold it near the sensor to check if the circuit is working now. The number holds steady perfectly. I throw the circuit back at Ali.

She barely catches it in time, her hands fumbling. Her eyes go wide as she double-checks my work. "How—"

"What did I say, Ali? I can't explain shit. You're welcome." I scowl and write down on my page the calibrated number. "Okay, step two."

Ali ignores my forwardness and asks another question instead. "Do you know how the Hall Effect plays into all of this? And, like, the magnetometers and stuff?"

I sigh again and don't look up from my notes. "Yep."

"Okay, great, because I don't recall." She pauses. "What are the odds you have some downtime this week? Would you be able to help me study? You obviously know more than I do..."

The underlying tone in her words makes me slap my pencil down on the desk. "Ali," I say sternly and raise my head to stare at her so she will maybe get my point. "I do not want to go over to your house and have sex with you. Do not ask me again."

Ali blinks, and her face turns ashen. "I... Never..."

"Step two." I turn back to the sheet and pick up the pencil again, using it as a pointer to tap the number. "Let's set the distance between the first magnet and the sensor. Fifteen millimeters should be good to start with. Can you grab the ruler?"

Ali swallows. Her hands tremble as she tucks her hair behind her ear and grabs the ruler from her side of the desk. She slides it over. Considering the look on her face, she wasn't expecting to get turned down.

She obviously doesn't know me well enough.

"Look..." she starts to say again.

I cut her off again. "Holy shit, drop it. Can you watch the sensor? Make sure those fucking wires don't come loose."

Ali is suddenly a shell of herself as she does as I ask.

This is precisely why I never have and never will fall in love. I can't imagine getting so shaken up about a scenario that would've never happened in the first place. Dreams are for toddlers and those in love. Not me. All I want is to get these fucking numbers so I can figure out the fucking equations.

As Ali moves to hold everything in place, the phone on the table buzzes. My phone.

Muttering under my breath, I lean over to see who in the hell is texting me this time.

The notification shows up as the camera scans my face.

Turner: yoooo grandpa, you better
hang up that cane on oct 1!!

Turner: just got word that the first
senior party is happening at
Joshs beach house. I'm driving
home for the weekend. I better
see you there

"And so it begins," I grumble under my breath and turn my phone off without responding to Turner.

With October being around the corner, the seniors will be throwing parties every weekend leading up to homecoming. It's been a tradition for nearly a decade, and my graduating class is looking to throw the best ragers of the decade to celebrate the best senior football class this school has seen for a long time. If Turner is coming back here from college to be there, I know it's going to be a good one.

"What's going on?" Ali finally seems to find her words again, although she still won't look at me.

"Josh is throwing the first party of the year in two weeks."

"Are you going?"

I snort. Of course, that's the first question on her mind. "Maybe. Hand me that red magnet."

Ali obliges, her face falling.

If my biggest problem in life were keeping tabs on my crush, I'd be a very different kid. I don't feel any remorse or guilt for what we could be as we keep working. I just want to finish this goddamn experiment.