Page 8 of We're At It Again

“Fine, I’ll keep the Austin bashing to a minimum.” She said. “See you in physics.”

Mr. Morrison was yet to arrive, and I took advantage of the opportunity to gather my thoughts before diving into the theme of revenge in Hamlet. I settled into my seat and let out a contented sigh as I gazed out the window. The snow-covered landscape stretched out. Trees stood like silent sentinels, their branches heavy with a fresh blanket of snow, while the sky above was a pale canvas of muted hues. Lost in tranquility, I never noticed Hudson sitting beside me.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

Startled, I turned to face him.

“Go away.” I said, not in the mood for his company.

But he just chuckled, undeterred by my stiff demeanor. Leaning closer, he flashed me a charming smile. His emerald eyes sparkled with mischief.

“Come on, Snow.” He said. “I knew you were going to get bored with Austin Chambers. I just never knew he was sucking the life out of you this much.”

I turned so fast that I got whiplash. He seemed smug as he leaned back with his hands behind his head. His lanky legs slouched under his desk.

“I am not in the mood for your annoying attitude today.”

He couldn’t take a hint.

“Just admit you like it.” He said. “I keep you on your toes. Something your jockstrap boyfriend never could do.”

I don’t know if it was the self-approving grin or the condescending wink, but I leaped out of my seat and tackled him.

Surprised, Hudson stumbled to the ground, his laughter mingling with my cries of outrage. The rest of the classroom turned to watch. Their eyes widened in shock as we grappled with each other.

“What is going on here?” Mr. Morrison yelled over the encouraging roars, and the cheers dissipated. Everyone stepped back to allow him space to investigate. “Ms. Delgato, I expected better of you.”

Hudson loosened his grip, and I ripped my arms away from him. I got up to create as much distance from him as possible.

“Get up Mr. Wilder.”

“I’m wounded, sir.” I rolled my eyes at his dramatics. His grin ruined his charade. He lifted himself from the ground and fixed his tattered black and white plaid shirt. He glanced at me with a glimmer in his eyes. “Nice right hook.”

I stepped forward to charge him again, but Mr. Morrison blocked the way.

“Principal’s office. Now.”

I marched out of the classroom, and my angered footsteps echoed through the hallway.

“Don’t even come near me.” I said when I heard Hudson trailing.

“But we’re going the same way.” I quickened my steps, but his black Converse appeared at my side. “I knew you still had it in you.”

“Had what?”

“That insatiable fire.” He said. “I thought you’d gone soft.” He tucked his hands in his front pockets. “What’s jockstrap going to say about you getting sent to the principal’s office?”

I ignored him.

“The silent treatment.” He said. “I must be in your head, then.”

The heavy wooden door to the principal’s office shut behind us. I found myself seated in a row of uncomfortable chairs. My heart hammered in my chest, my palms slick with nervous sweat as I waited for the confrontation. This would be the first time I’d ever gotten into trouble.

I glanced at Hudson from the corner of my eye, taking in his relaxed posture and carefree grin. His devil-may-care attitude grated on my nerves, especially given the circumstances that landed us in this predicament.

I drummed my fingers against my thigh as I glanced around the office, taking in the sterile white walls and organized shelves. The air was heavy with anticipation.

Minutes stretched into eternity as we waited, the silence punctuated by the unabating ticking of the clock on the wall. My mind raced with a million different scenarios. Would they suspend us? Expelled? Either way, this would ruin my chances at Stanford.

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