Playing Scared Shitless

Once Principal Mallard finishes his welcoming speech which, in Charlie's opinion, lasted longer than it should have, the bell chimes again, informing everyone that it is time to head to first period. Charlie and Jillian are aware that they only have one class together since they exchanged schedules via text message a week ago and head in different directions. Charlie locates her first class with ease and has no issue getting comfortable. More and more students pile in after her and almost every seat in the class is taken. The teacher shuts the door and beams brightly at his students.

"Morning, kids. Welcome to the first day of AP Calculus," Mr Gherardi sings exuberantly with his arms spread wide open, as if he's going to embrace the adolescences planted in front of him. To his dismay, however, none of his students answer him and his smile falters a smidge. Ever so awkwardly, he clears his throat and grabs the folder lying on top of his desk. "I'm just going to take attendance now. Please do refrain from distracting me with your enthusiasm," he jokes dryly in attempt to get some kind of reaction out of them. He does not succeed seeing as they are all still very passive.

With much scrutiny, Charlie examines every single person in the classroom, even the instructor of the course. She can easily predict how this year is going to turn out. She can also tell you who's going to pass with flying colors and who's going to fail miserably by their current postures and demeanor. During her assessment, she pays no attention to Mr Gherardi reading through the roster until he reaches the end and calls out her name. "Charlotte Whitmen?"

She looks at him pointedly and corrects him. "It's just Charlie."

"All righty then, just Charlie." He grins and, surprisingly enough, the girl doesn't feel vexed with his lame response. Sure he's a cheesy and optimistic guy but there's nothing wrong with that. To her, it's a hundred times better than having a crabby, unreasonable teacher. The troll she had for chemistry last year is a prime example of the kind of employees the school shouldn't hire. "I guess everyone is accounted for except for one student. Now, where did I put that darn syllabus of mine?" Mr Gherardi scratches his head with one hand while the other rests on his hip. "Hold on a moment, children. I will be right back."

The door closes behind him and the chatter immediately starts up. A girl stationed three desks in front of Charlie spins around and furrows her eyebrows, obviously displeased about something. "Aren't you a junior?" she interrogates haughtily. Looks like somebody woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning.

"Yeah and? Do you have a problem?" Charlie replies brazenly.

The girl whom she recognizes to be Mariana Sanchez, one of the overly stuck-up seniors in the school, scoffs out loud and flips her curly dark-brown locks to the side. "Bitch," she hisses under her breath before she spins back around to converse with her friend.

If she thinks she can get away with the name-calling, she's gravely mistaken. Because two can play this game. "Yes you are," Charlie sings.

A loud gasp slips past Mariana's lips, head whipping back towards the girl. Charlie's impressed she didn't break her neck during the process. She must be part owl. A couple of students, who are close enough to hear the exchange, snicker and try their best to control their laughter. "What'd you just say to me, underclassman?" Mariana sneers, the fury bubbling inside of her causes her veins to protrude out, looking like they're about ready to burst at any given moment.

"Are you talking to me?" Charlie points a finger at her face.

Mariana sends her a sour expression, as if she's eaten an entire lemon. "Who else would I be calling an underclassman?"

"I think you're a little confused here, sweetheart. Technically speaking, freshmen and sophomores are considered underclassmen whereas juniors and seniors are referred to as upperclassmen. Didn't you know that? I mean, it's only common sense," Charlie explains in a matter-of-fact tone.

"Of course I know that!" Mariana shrieks in defense. She places a hand on her chest and puckers her lips. "But since I'm a senior, everyone else is considered an underclassman to me. So the next time you want to open your big fat mouth, you should think about what I can do to you."

Charlie tilts her head back and lets out a single, sardonic chuckle. This catches everybody's attention. She feigns fright and cups both of her cheeks, imitating the man from the famous painting entitled The Scream. "Oh no. I'm scared shitless. What are you going to do to me? Don't tell me you're going to steal my clothes during gym class. Or, even worse, trip me when we're in the cafeteria. Poor me, whatever am I going to do? I think I'm going to have to sleep with one eye open for the rest of my life," she exaggerates, evoking more laughter from the other students. It seems like this year won't be a quiet one thanks to Mariana's existence. Then Charlie's expression returns to being stoic and her tone deadly. "Just know that I can fuck you up in my sleep. So you should be the one watching your big fat mouth and while you're at it, why don't you remove the stick that seems to be shoved up your ass?"

Mariana resembles a fish out of water and is left at a loss for words. Before anything else can progress, their teacher returns with a pile of papers in his possession. She has no choice but to face forward and when she does, Charlie's neighbor holds his fist out towards her. Charlie gives him what he wants, allowing their knuckles to touch. "You've got balls," he whispers.

"I was stating the truth," she answers indifferently.

"I'm Daniel Trancosa," he introduces.

"And as you've already heard, I'm Charlie."

"I know. You're Ian's sister," Daniel states. "I've heard a lot about you."

"Am I supposed to be flattered or something? Because I'm not," she points out curtly.

"Well, aren't you just a little ray of sunshine."

"Bite me." Charlie smiles synthetically. "Now if you don't mind, I'd like to hear what Mr Gherardi has to say. As mind-blowing as this might sound, some of us are actually interested in learning the universal language of the world." The boy, with jet-black hair, puts his hands up in a surrendering motion, telling the girl that he will do as she wishes and back off. When Charlie focuses her attention on their teacher, he can't help but smile in secrecy as he mimics her actions. His senior year looks a whole lot brighter now with her in it.

* * *

So far, Charlie has managed to get through half of her classes. All she has to do is survive the last three and she'll be on her merry way to being reunited with her one true love, her bed. Since her fourth class is Western Literature, she is assigned to have A lunch. Fortunately for her, it is the one class she shares with Jillian which ultimately means that they will get to have lunch with each other every day. Their school doesn't work on a rotating schedule because it tends to throw both the students and the teachers alike off guard.

As Charlie's eyes scope the cafeteria, she finally locates Jillian flailing her arms around like a maniac by the windows. She doesn't understand how she even managed to miss her and quickly makes her way over. "You look like you belong in an asylum," she says as she takes a seat.

"I know I do and you know what? You'd be my next door neighbor," Jillian croons, wriggling her eyebrows.

"As if," snorts Charlie.

Suddenly they hear high-pitched squeals, shrill enough that dogs would even flinch at the sound. They both look back in order to see what the fuss is all about. They get their answer when they spot Ian entering the scene with his group of friends by his side. Although she does not want to admit it, her brother is rather popular at school, especially when it comes to the ladies. And, as you might have gathered, popularity and peace never mix well together. Charlie instantly groans and bangs her head against the table. "Why does he have to have this lunch? Now I'll never have a decent afternoon to myself."

Jillian doesn't say anything though. She is too preoccupied with locking eyes with Ian from across the way. The corners of his lips twitch upwards at the sight of her and, ever so discreetly, he sends her a wink from where he stands. A faint layer of blush falls upon her cheeks while her face grows warm in a matter of seconds. In embarrassment, her eyes drop down to her lap and she curls a strand of hair behind her ear. Her phone vibrates and she opens the message under the table.

Ian: You look beautiful today, just like you do every day.

Her heart begins to thrash wildly against her ribcage as her stomach starts to churn. She chews on her bottom lip to keep the wide smile threatening to break free under wraps and stares absentmindedly at nothing in particular.

"Hello, Earth to Jill. Are you listening to me?" Charlie waves her hand furiously in front of the girl's face, disrupting her from her train of thoughts.

"What?" She gulps anxiously.

Charlie cocks her head to the side and purses her lips out. "Why is your face all red?"

"My face is red?" Jillian gasps, slapping her hands over her scalding cheeks. It feels like she's been bathing in the sun for the last two hours! "A-ah, must be the weather. It's a little humid in here," she fibs, fanning herself.

"It feels fine to me," Charlie says. "Wait. Don't tell me you're having dirty fantasies about somebody right now."

"What? No!" Jillian rejects. "I am not a pervert."

"I didn't say you were. Besides, having wild, sexual thoughts about another human being you're attracted to is completely normal, especially at this age. You'd be considered a pervert if you snuck into the boys' locker-room and watched them shower and change."

"Just eat your lunch, why don't you?" Jillian stuffs the cheeseburger into Charlie's mouth and laughs when her friend scowls at her yet continues chowing down anyways. Stealthily, she types her reply and after hitting the send button, she peers over to the receiver. She catches his face lighting up as he stares at his phone and her countenance mirrors his. To her delight, Charlie does not pester her or conduct an interrogation, most likely because she is too focused on eating and, silently, Jillian thanks the genius who created the cheeseburger.

Lunch comes to an end twenty-five minutes later and a majority of students, Charlie and Jillian included, vacate the cafeteria and make their way towards their classes.

"Is this seat taken?" a voice, which would be categorized as hypnotizing by a shipload of girls, questions.

The two companions put their conversation on hold and look up. "I don't fucking know. Why are you asking us?" Charlie spits, her voice laced with an ample amount of hostility. What kind of question is that?

Jillian glares at her impertinent friend before providing the boy with her undivided attention. "Oh, hey Hayden. You're in this class too? What a coincidence. We didn't see you at lunch. Sorry about Oscar the Grouch over here. She's a tad bit grumpy because she dropped some of her fries," she explains, sending the boy, who has a head full of luscious brown hair, a sheepish and apologetic smile.

"It's okay," he tells her as he claims the seat. He puts his backpack down and turns around again. "And yeah, I had lunch in the library. It's nice running into you too, Charlie. I see you still get upset when your food goes to waste." He flashes his pearly whites and the back of her throat emits a low but fierce growl.

"Don't patronize me, Knight. I am not in the mood," she warns.

"God, you're still the same, aren't you? Smile, Charlie. You look prettier when you do," he comments truthfully and in the most innocent way ever. If Hayden had said this to any other girl in the school, they would have undoubtedly fainted or broken down into tears of joy by now. It sounds ridiculous, but that's the kind of effect he has on the opposite sex.

Then again, Charlie Whitmen isn't just any other girl. She is practically immune to Hayden Knight and his charm. That's what happens when you've known the guy for over a decade. "Does it look like I care if I look pretty or not?" She proceeds to answer her own inquiry without giving him the chance to speak, "Of course not because I don't give a flying fuck."

"Your vocabulary hasn't changed either," Hayden chortles.

"And? Were you expecting it to? Sorry to disappoint you," Charlie snarls.

"Charlie, why do have to be so mean?" Jillian whines. She feels awful for her best friend's rude behavior.

"What? Who said I was disappointed?" He blinks. "Because I'm—"

"Hi Hayden!" a perky voice screeches, nearly deafening the three of them.

Hayden glances up and sends the girl a polite smile. "Good afternoon, Sheila," he replies courteously.

"How was your summer? I was so bummed about not being able to hang out with you." Sheila frowns as she juts out her bottom lip.

He grins. "Sorry about that. I was pretty busy, but other than that it was fantastic."

"Really? What did you do?"

"Plenty of things actually," he responds vaguely.

"Sounds epic. Why don't you come and sit over with my friends and me and tell us all about your adventures in Costa Rica?" And there it is, ladies and gentlemen. The real reason why Sheila Robertson bothered to approach Hayden Knight in the first place. People and their ulterior motives. No wonder trust issues exist.

"Desperate." Charlie coughs once she figures out that Sheila isn't genuinely interested in how Hayden's summer went. She just wants him to sit next to her, like ninety-nine percent of the girls in the school do. She can't tell whether or not Sheila has heard her snide remark. If she did, she has obviously chosen to ignore it.

Her comment, however, does not surpass Hayden's keen and sharp ears. He stifles a chuckle and looks at Sheila. "Maybe another time," he starts off, not sounding the least bit contrite. "I'm talking to my friends right now."

The girl's face falls while Charlie's scrunches up together. "Oh okay then," Sheila resigns as she returns to her seat all the way on the other side of the room.

"Don't use us as an excuse," Charlie scolds.

"I wasn't," defends Hayden. "I was telling her the truth."

Without warning, six more girls arrive and crowd around him. Their persistent begging and shameful advances begin to piss Charlie off. Not being able to contain her anger any longer, she slams both of her palms onto her desk and stands up. The commotion she creates reminds her peers of her presence. When they see who she is there is an array of reactions. Some flinch and others glower. "Sit down and shut the fuck up. Class is about to start." The girls mutter nasty comments under their breaths but leave. They don't want to take their chances. "This is exactly why I never liked having classes with you," grumbles Charlie as she glares at Hayden. "You're always causing a ruckus."

"I'm always causing a ruckus?" Hayden repeats, puzzled.

"No shit, Einstein," she apprises as she rolls her eyes.

"I don't mean to," he heaves. "But I guess it's good for you then that this is the only class we have together." There's a glint of sadness behind his eyes which Charlie fails to catch.

"I'd prefer it if we didn't have any, but I suppose life can be unfair sometimes." She sits back down and the bell rings. Charlie thinks she only has to endure the infuriating giggles and maddening murmurs for another forty-five minutes but she's wrong and she will soon be in for a rude awakening.