Page 43 of Ancient History

Everett: And lived to tell about it. Time to celebrate!

Everett: What do you want to do?

Chase: Something lowkey.

Julian: Awesome! That sounds perfectly Chase.

Everett: Boooooo. Blackout drunk or bust.

Amos: Easy there. Have you been watching fraternity house porn again?

Everett: No comment.

Julian: Speaking of, one of my AP students handed in their paper, and in between the pages was a condom wrapper.

Amos: The smart kids are having more sex than us?

Chase: We’re still the smart kids.

Everett: This is bleak. Maybe we can live vicariously through the sex you and Hutch are having.

Amos: We are not having sex! We’re friends. I told you. Nothing happened outside Remix. Just got some fresh air, and he helped me with a neck cramp.

Everett: So that’s what they’re calling it nowadays?

Amos: *mutes Everett*

Amos: Let’s have Chase’s party at my condo. We’ll have drinks, cake, music. It’ll be lowkey but fun. Good times will be had by all or else your money back.

Chase: Thanks, Amos! I’ll put together a guest list.

* * *

The week breezed by uneventfully.I kept busy with lots of tutoring gigs and mulching gigs after school, adding to my travel fund. Each job activated a different side of my brain. Whatever awkward moment happened at Remix with Hutch and me was a distant memory; we had a good time at caf duty chatting about random school things. It was better than forced silence. I cleaned my apartment thoroughly throughout the week to prepare for the party; Everett and Julian and I went party supply shopping.

My classes stayed fun as we dug into the world of knights and how awful it was trying to fight in armor. I waited until a minute before the bell rang to hand back papers I’d graded. As students gathered up their books and backpacks, with Rosalee and Dale effusing about what a great class it was, I summoned Tommy.

After asking him again, he finally got out of his seat and shuffled up to my desk like he was being dragged by a chain.

“Tommy, I noticed that I didn’t see an assignment from you. I was grading them this week, and there was one missing.”

“Uh…yeah…” He looked at the other students leaving, as if any of them had a lifeline. “I handed it in. Maybe you lost it?”

My frustration dialed up, but I held it in. “I don’t think I lost it. Did you hand anything in last week?”

“Uh, yeah…”

His eyes darted open with relief when the bell rang.

“Tommy,” I said firmly when he tried to leave. “We’re not finished with our conversation.”

“Maybe it’s still in your bag?”

I folded my arms, ready to go to defcon 2. “What was your paper about?”

“Huh?”

“Your paper. What was it about?”

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