ONE || A Video Of A Very Unflattering Situation

Jaxon Lincoln isn't just bad. He's the worst.

Way back when in elementary school we used to be friends, but not anymore. I don't know why I put up with him, how I managed to put up with him. He's loud, annoying, unfunny, and... incredibly smart. Why such a horrible kid manages to get straight As, I don't know. But he does.

That's why when he walks up to me on the courtyard, holding up his phone, chest puffed out like he's the lord of the universe, I know something bad is happening. Or at least, about to happen. My eyes instinctively dart to the right, trying to avoid looking at that shiny screen, but in the end I have to, if I want him to leave me alone.

The video is horrific, and as soon as my mouth drops open, Jaxon smirks. It's grainy, but I can tell what's happening, and it's awful. It must've been from three years ago, in seventh grade, at my thirteenth birthday. I think I must've eaten way too much fondant, because it came right back up in front of all my friends.

I suddenly regret inviting Jaxon to that party.

As soon as the video ends and the vomiting noises and squealing stop, Jaxon leans to the left to peer at me from behind his gigantic iPhone. "Remember this, Angel?" He grins at me like an arrogant shark. An arrogant shark I wish someone would make shark fin soup out of. The thought of removing his limbs and leaving him to die calms me down. "Do you think they'll call you Vomit Girl?"

"What do you want, Lincoln?" I cross my arms and try my best to look scary, which is tough, because I'm barely over five feet.

"Lincoln? Really, Angel? We used to be friends." I grit my teeth and flatten my eyebrows. My signature stop shitting me face. "Okay, geez! You look like a bull. Chill. I just want to make a bet, that's all." He raises his phone higher and waves it around as my eyebrows reach impossible heights. "Just a silly little bet, you know?"

But I doubt it's silly, or little. I'm pretty sure that if I lose, the results will be devastating. That's Jaxon. At first, he might seem harmless and annoying, but in reality he uses all those smarts to tear down people who hate him, or he hates. He's ruthless, and he uses his brightness to get what he wants or see what he wants to see.

He waves his phone again, like his hand is a ride at Disney Land. "You got into the tutoring competition, yes?"

I nod. Every year, our high school holds a tutoring competition. People can enter their names on a slip of paper in a box outside the student council office. They choose the top five smartest students and make them tutor the students with the lowest grades, whom they call understudies - 'Stud' for short (pronounced 'stood' - it's meant to be funny or ironic, I think). The tutor whose Stud gets the highest marks in the year-end exam wins. I know it doesn't sound like a big deal, but it is to us.

It is a very, very big deal to us.

Which is why it's a very big deal to me that I win this year. Jaxon and I both got in, among other people. I'm going to beat him and earn that basket of delicious, delicious chocolates. I'm going to make him wish he never entered. "Well..." He continues. "Let's have a wager. If I win, and my Stud is smarter than yours, then I release this video. And what atrocious impact would that have on your reputation, Angel? If you win, I delete the video, and let you be valedictorian. How 'bout that?"

If that video is released, my name will be torn to tatters. No one will like me and I'll have no friends to turn to, and they'll probably put it in my yearbook. Angel Gracelynn: Vomit Girl. I spot a loophole in his plans. "What if neither of us wins? We aren't the only tutors in this competition, you know." I wouldn't be surprised if he thought that. His egoism probably overpowers his intelligence.

"If neither of us win, I'll keep the video but don't release it. And we'll still be fighting like cats and dogs over valedictorian. Sound good?" Jaxon steps back, away from me, the tension seeping out of my body in relief. I hate him being so close. That's another one of his problems - he has no concept of personal space. "Angel? You have no choice. Agree or else this video..." He gets all up in my face and waves the blank phone in my face again. "Will be all over Instagram."

God, he is the fucking worst. I sigh. "Fine, Jaxon." I glance at the lists pasted on the window of the student council office - the lists that declares who my Stud will be. "I'm going now. I don't want to hear another word out of you." A bold move, considering I'm the one being blackmailed, but he just grins. He might be sadistic and mean, but he's not evil.

Leaving him behind, I walk over to the student council office. My eyes run down the list, my finger tracing downwards as I scan the paper.

I'm at the very bottom of the list, but that doesn't matter. What matters is who is under that little line that labels the column 'understudy'. Maxine Grifes. Of course. The universe hates me, doesn't it? I'm never going to win this bet. Not when my understudy gets into fights once a week and has a horrible reputation among teachers. And also, the person I am totally in love with.

Whoa, hold on. Back up. I'm not in love with her. It's just a crush. A teensy little crush that will go away soon (don't you dare). It's not even a proper crush. I don't know her. At all. I've just seen her around, but if you were attracted to girls and you've seen Maxine Grifes I'm pretty sure you'd have a crush on her too. She's, to put it bluntly - uh, sorry if this makes you uncomfortable or anything - super hot.

We're supposed to meet our understudy in an hour, at 4 PM in the multipurpose academics, sports, and aesthetics hall. Nothing to do until then. I pull out my phone and check my texts - nothing much. Just a message from Jaxon from a few minutes ago (it's the video, and I kid you not, a winky face as the caption) and a few excited texts from Eden, my best friend.

You're with Maxine Grifes huh ;)

Is this going to turn into a badly written teen fiction book

Forbidden romance if you know what I mean

That's really spicy Angel

I text back, a smile spreading across my face. Eden's a different type of annoying. He's annoying in a loveable way, in a way that always brings a smile to your face or happiness to your day. His happy-go-lucky attitude can be irritating at times, but if you want someone to encourage you when you're down, he's the man. Guess that's why he's my friend.

Shut up you lil bitch Eden

How many times do I have 2 tell u: it's just a crush!!!

There will be no spiciness!!! It will be all sweet!!!

He types back almost immediately. Suuure Angel, and that's it. He's not even online anymore - he must be busy. I shrug to myself, pocketing my phone. I don't mind, really. And it's almost four anyway. Slinging my backpack strap over my shoulder, I walk up the long winding staircase.

The hall is on the third floor. It's a huge space with a cedar wood floor and desks against all the walls surrounding the hall, like a desk cult. It's always cold there, even in the summer. All of our events are hosted there; plays, art festivals, sports, campfires. It is multipurpose, after all.

I unwrap a granola bar that I found in my backpack and bite into it, pushing the door open into the hall. It's still half past three, but the tutors and Studs are already talking and milling around. I drop my backpack and kick it against a pillar, spotting Maxine sitting cross-legged and arms crossed against a desk, looking beguiling as always.

"Hey," I start, as cool and aloof as possible, although I probably won't be either of those in a minute or two. "Maxine Grifes, isn't it?" I ask, answering myself: duh. "I'm Angel Gracelynn, your tutor! You probably know already, but I'm here to help improve your grades. Could I see your report card before we get started, so I can figure out where to start and your level currently?"

She looks at me with an unimpressed look and I tangle my fingers through my hair. "Oh my god, I'm talking your ears off. Sorry. It's nice to meet you, Maxine." I stick my hand out, but she doesn't take it right away. I start to get nervous, biting my lip and shuffling my feet. Talkative Angel does it again - my mouth just won't stop opening when I'm nervous. It's a horrible trait to have.

She raises her eyebrows, which I imagine paints quite an impressive shade of crimson across my face, as I can tell from the sudden heat in my cheeks. But then she takes my hand, shaking it firmly, her hand warm and callused. I never want to let go, but eventually I pull away, still flushed bright red. "Don't worry about it," Maxine replies, her voice deep and hoarse, "I think you're cute."

God god god fuck fuck fuck. This is going to keep me up all night. If she keeps saying shit like this I'll never win the competition! "Angel Gracelynn... imagine my surprise when I found out my tutor was the nerdiest kid at school." Her snide smirk disappears, replaced by her usual detached straight face. "I am stupid, after all."

"Hey, I'm sure you're not!" I flash what I hope is a reassuring, hopeful smile instead of a nervous one. "Everyone... it's not about skill or talent, you know? It's about how hard you work. How much effort you put into it. I mean, did you know I was tested at six years old and I had an IQ of 23? The average for six year olds is 50."

Oh God, I'm talking her ears off. She probably thinks I'm pathetic, which makes me more nervous. Which makes me more talkative. It's a horrific never-ending cycle. "But here I am now. Tied for valedictorian." I pat her arm, finally getting my mouth to snap shut. "I'm sure you'll get there someday."

"Sure I will." Maxine crossed her arms. "You don't have to talk me out of it, nerd. I'm come to peace with it. That's why I'm here now... well, your job is to make me smart. You better do it right. So, when are we meeting?" She pulled out her phone, no longer concentrated on me. Shame. I'd love to have her attention on me all the time, if you know what I mean. "I'm free tomorrow, all day. I can also go on Sunday in the morning or evening. It's whatever." I shrug, trying to recall my schedule through the haze of flustered and nervous.

"Oh, well, I'm totally free on Saturday. Sunday I'm hanging out with... Eden. Rivera. Eden Rivera." I internally face-palm. Did you have to do that, me? Did you have to use the James Bond form of name-revealing? "Do you know him?" Facepalm. I'm a mess, and the hall is hot all of a sudden. I might as well just combust.

No one except Maxine seems to notice my red-faced embarrassment, which is good, but not as good, considering, well... My hands fidget against the hem of my sweater, wanting to pull it up over my face. I force myself not to, but my hands keep twitching.

Maxine looks at me, eyes tired. As if I'm some kind of joke. I am a joke, and life is a nightmare. I should just die. Retreat into my blanket cave and read history books for a good two hours before I emerge.

"Yeah, I know him," Maxine replies, more of an obligation than anything, "he was my English project partner last year. He was alright." She yawns, as if this conversation is taking a toll on her energy. It probably is. I'm so lame. "So Saturday's good, then. We can study all day." She pockets her phone. "I'll be going now. See ya." Maxine tucks her hands into the pockets of her black jacket and walks away.

People are starting to file out now, leaving the hall empty. Sighing, I pick up my backpack and fish out the last bite of granola to eat. My stomach is starting to rumble, but I don't have any money left and the sun is starting to set. Guess I'll have to settle for Aunt Xena's mac'n'cheese. And don't get me wrong, it's delicious, but when you're eating it for a week straight it slowly becomes boring. But it's not like it's torture or anything - it's gooey and delectable. So hey, I'm not whining. Although, I just did. So, oxymoronic much, Angel?

And then I remember I don't have Maxine's number. It's a sudden thought, appearing out of nowhere - remembered out of the blue. I look around, but she isn't anywhere. My heart fills with panic. I don't even know where to meet! My phone beeps, and I damn near drop it in panic. It's a message from an unknown number, only one text: Hey. We can meet at 7. Cognaissance Library. Don't be late.

I see the person typing. Is this Maxine? I didn't give her my number. This is Maxine, btw. Suspicions confirmed. Still doesn't explain how she got my number. It's cool and mysterious and makes me like her even more - but god, is she stalking me or something? I text back in a fury of fingers sliding across the screen: Yeah, sure - but how did you get my number??? Are you stalking me???? Creep

Yea whatever just meet me at the library

Of course I will. This is going to be so awesome! And also, super uh-oh. I'm going to make a fool out of myself. But it's okay, since I'll be spending time with the love of my life. We're going to fall in love and kiss and I'll win the competition and smack Jaxon to puny little pieces. We'll go to the same university and marry each other and have tons of beautiful... dogs because I can't stand kids.

Except we won't. Maxine, at best, probably sees me as an awkward nerd. And she'd never subject herself to the likes of awkward nerdiness.

We're never going to be more than friends, and even that is asking for a lot. My job, my primary job, though... is to beat Jaxon and get this over with. I'm not asking for a romantic happy ending. I'm just wishing for me to not make a damn donkey of myself whenever she looks me in the eye. We're never going to be more, like I've always hoped we'd be.

But hey, a girl can dream, right?