*This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.*
Tapping my foot against the tile floor, I checked the clock adjacent to the door. 2:58. Despite the exciting video that Mrs. Namira had put on during psychology, time was moving slower than sloths. And the more the narrator droned on about Sigmund Freud, the sleepier I got.
Click! Mrs. Namira stood up with the remote in her hand and went for the lights. Sighing with relief, everyone including myself began to shove our things into our bags.
“For homework over the weekend, I would like you all to write me a five hundred word essay about what was covered in the video. In your own thoughts, criticize or support whatever research you feel is appropriate to include in your paper,” Mrs. Namira told us, glancing around at everyone. “Any questions?”
“Oh, Mrs. Namira?” A girl in the front row with a braid down to her lower back raised her hand. I mentally face palmed. Whenever Amber rose her hand, it wasn’t good news. “You forgot to collect our papers from Wednesday.”
A collective soft groan escaped nearly everyone’s mouths, but Mrs. Namira was pleased as she realized Amber was right. Reluctantly, I dove into my bag for the semi crumpled set of papers titled “Pavlov and his Pets”.
“Oh thank you! I nearly forgot. I’ll take those on your way out,” Mrs. Namira added right as the bell rang. Finally. I took a deep breath and stood up, grabbing my backpack and filing out of the classroom after everyone, including Type-A Amber.
Mrs. Namira mumbled her thanks and goodbyes to us all as we left and I joined the mobs of people exiting their classrooms into the hallways. Boys were fist bumping and talking about their weekend plans, which included the usual: causing trouble and then maybe some homework, if they felt like it. The girls gossiped and confirmed plans for the weekends, while I snaked through the cliques. I had somewhere to be. More importantly, someone to meet.
“Isabella,” a voice called to me just as I got the end of the hall. A voice I knew too well: my friend, Thomas. I turned and glanced back at him as he came my way, towering over me by a couple of inches. He grinned. “Aren’t we going to see that movie tonight?”
“Oh, I completely forgot,” I told him, frowning. Thomas’s smile disappeared and he shrugged. He held up a hand, giving me a bro hug.
“It’s okay, let’s do it tomorrow night?” I nodded to him. He squinted at me. “What are you doing tonight then?”
“I am doing homework. You know,” I paused, swallowing and finding a dry spot in my throat as I did so, “just trying to get ahead.” My cheeks felt hot and Thomas smirked.
“Alrighty,” he told me. “Text me, okay? Maybe we can hang out tonight if you finish.”
“For sure,” I said, turning towards the staircase. “See you later.”
Thomas headed back down the hall and I pushed open the door to the stairs. Letting out a long sigh, a pair of arms grabbed me and lips pressed against mine. I smelled sweet vanilla and cinnamon and knew who it was instantly, otherwise I probably would have flipped.
“Hey,” Clare whispered as she pulled away, holding onto me and staring deep into my eyes. “I was wondering if you forgot.”
“Me? Forget?” I said, earning an eye roll from Clare. Then her dark eyes fluttered back to mine. “Never.”
“Let’s go. I want to show you something,” Clare whispered, grabbing onto my hand and tugging me towards the stairs. Usually, I hated surprises. But with Clare, it didn’t matter. As long as I was with her, everything was copacetic.
