If you take out the team in teamwork, it's just work. Now who wants that?

Matthew Woodring Stover

Skye's room is neater – much neater than I'd expected from someone as impulsive and on the go as Skye is. His bed is made with an elegant grey duvet and maroon cushions are propped against a dark wooden headboard, the same wood is used on his wardrobe and dressers as well as the long shelf that sits above his bed. Gold trophies and prestigious awards glint down at me, showcasing Skye's exceptional sports talent. Pictures in glass frames sit among the trophies, showing Skye at various stages in his life smiling with his proud parents.

On his matte grey walls are several large posters of famous sports players. I don't know their names, but I recognize the teams and uniforms. Somehow, it's endearing that Skye would have a basketball hoop in his room and it's so him that I'm unsurprised by the little thing. Skye's bedroom is very big but because of all the decluttering, it looks spacious.

"Huh." I swing my gaze towards him.

"What?' He cocks his head to the side, bristling at my probing gaze. Is he nervous? Conscious about me seeing his room? Well, that's not something I see every day.

"Your room is clean," I mention.

"Was it ... not supposed to be?'

I shrug. "Just trying to see what parts of you are a cliché and what's real."

He gives me a million-watt smile. Definitely cliché.

"Am I real enough for you, Woods?"

"Yet to be determined," I reply vaguely. "So, where can I leave my stuff for the project?'

He gestures to his study table pressed against one of the empty walls and a couple of metal stools so that's where we work on the project. All the small gadgets we need are spread across the table, bulbs and wires with loose pieces of paper that we used to draw schematics and a couple of pencils.

"You've already got some things organized, nice." I lay out my equipment next to his.

"I'm not completely hopeless, Woods."

I unfold a list in lieu of answering him and thinking too much about the guilt that coils in my chest. So, what if Skye wasn't the smartest person I knew? He had exceptional talent in what he did, and that was more than what I could say about myself.

"I made a list of what we need to do," I say, cracking my knuckles. "Are you ready to tackle this, Stingworth?"

His smile deepens. "That's my speciality, Woods."

***

Skye and I worked on the model design for over thirty minutes before we heard the bell, and the door clicks open downstairs.

"That must be Penny and Harry," I say, lifting my head. My neck makes a horrible cracking noise like dry autumn leaves crunching. I twist around, easing out my stiff muscles, Skye's room floating around my vision.

Skye's sighs, slumping in his chair. "I was hoping we'd be done before they came."

I raise an eyebrow. "You don't like them?"

"Not particularly, no."

"Just Harry?"

He turns his head to the side, eyes slit and copper hair falling across his forehead. "I don't like either of them Woods. Talonson and Penny are both privileged brats."

I nearly recoil at his harsh tone. I knew Skye and Harry had a deep rivalry, but he disliked Penny just as much. That was new to me.

Sky opens his mouth to say something else but just then, his room door swings and Penny and Harry stand on the threshold.

"Speak of the devil," he mutters under his breath. I can't help silently agreeing.

"Hello everyone." Penny marches into the room, flipping her straight blonde hair over her shoulder. "Let's get down to business."

Harry follows behind her and I swivel my chair to face them.

"How far along are you two?" He asks, crossing his arms. There's a long roll of cardboard tucked under his arm.

"Almost done with the model," I say and Skye tenses next to me. It's so stage seeing this side of him – tense and uncomfortable. Skye Stingworth has always been the picture of 'cool, calm, collected' and this version of him makes me uneasy. I hate having to be the one to lead the conversation.

"Good." Penny nods approvingly.

I raise my chin to meet her gaze with my cold one. I don't need her approval.

"How far are you and Harry with the poster?"

Penny gestures to the boy and he unfurls the cardboard in his hand. On the large white sheet are pictures and diagrams and notes, designed in an artful way to not look cluttered or chaotic. Something only Penelope Greene is capable of doing. The poster is done and looks amazing, and I have to keep the shock from showing on my face.

"Okay, so this project is more or less complete then." I clap my hands together.

"Correct," Harry nods.

Penelope pushes my chair with her hip without a preamble. She peers at the model Skye, and I designed with scrutinizing eyes.

"Hmm. So weren't lying about how far you were with the model," she states.

"Nope," Skye replies, turning his chair to explain what we've done. "Based on Newton's first law we were able to create a racecar circuit powered by an elastic band. The car has a ticker timer to record speed and measure acceleration. We've added markings on the track to show the distance at each point like a ruler."

Skye glances at me and I'm smiling proudly. I quickly clear my throat when Penny tosses me an expectant look and I continue the explanation from where Skye finished.

"So, using the elastic band we can move the car, showcasing how force causes acceleration. When the elastic band is pulled at different forces, acceleration differs, and we can create graphs to help record other variables and the relationships between them."

This time, it's Penny and Harry who try not to look surprised.

"Good, so we can wrap this project up," Penny declares. "You two seem to know how the model works so you can write out that part of the speech. Harry and I will represent a speech on the posters."

Harry acquiesces to no one's surprise. "Make sure you prepare questions as well in case we're asked theory afterwards."

Skye and I watch them leave, holding our breaths. When Penny is at the door, she tilts her head over her shoulder.

"And remember to smile!"

It's like the tension has been visibly removed once the two leave for good.

"Phew, they're the actual worst," Skye huffs.

"You'll find no disagreement from me," I remark, looking at him.

Bad idea.

When Penny pushed my chair, she'd made me sit much closer to Skye. His knee bounces, brushing mine and our fingers nearly touch. If Skye leans just an inch forward, our breaths will mingle.

"So," Skye says, and I swallow hard. His voice is low and husky, warming my insides like molten. "We make a pretty good team, huh?"

My lips kick upward on their own accord. "That we do."

"You should be on my team for P.E. I think we'd do an awesome job."

I huff out a laugh. "Yeah, no way. I can't throw a ball to save life."

"No?" He leans closer and this time his breath washes over my face. The room feels hotter, and my clothes feel tight. "What would we be a good team for then?"

"You tell me."

His gaze flickers over my face, lingering on my lips and then ascends to my eyes. "I could show you."

"I bet you could," I murmur – this time I'm the one to lean.

"Skye! Dinner!" Mrs. Stingworth's yell jerks us apart and Skye nearly stumbles to the floor. I am breathing hard as I get to my feet. I pack up my things hastily, shoving everything untidily in my bag. My hands are sweaty, and my heart is erratic.

"Kourtney, wait," Skye tries to step closer, but I shake my head frantically. What was I going to do? Kiss him? The most popular, the nicest, the charismatic boy in school? I couldn't do that.

Idiot. I'm such an idiot.

"I need to go," I rush out and I'm out the door, escaping my feelings like I always do.