Page 3 of Saving Tracey
No sooner than he sat back down in his seat did someone speak up to ask him a question. I rolled my eyes in annoyance. Everyone here knew him. What the fuck could someone really need to ask him?
"Dude, how did you end up in here with the rest of us losers?" one of his friends that I recognized from the football team asked him.
Kaleb shrugged and sighed in agitation. "There wasn't any room to put me in AP History,” he told him. "So, I got put in here."
The teacher clapped her hands together to bring the class back to attention. I winced at the loud noise, my heart thumping erratically in my chest again. I closed my eyes, forcing myself to calm back down, clenching my fists as I imagined my fear and panic contained in them once again.
"Okay, everyone!" she said enthusiastically. "We're going to begin this semester by working on a project in partners." I opened my eyes to look at her, blowing out a harsh breath in annoyance.
A project with a partner was the last fucking thing I needed.
"Based on what I just found out about you, I'm going to pair you up with the person who is the least compatible with you. You're going to hang out for two weeks, get to know each other, and learn how to get along with your partner. After the two weeks are over, you'll have another week to do a two-page paper on your partner–what you learned from them, maybe some things your partner inspired you to do, and how your partner helped you to become a better person."
Fuck. Me.
I was beginning to hate this class more and more with each passing second.
"How does this contribute to history?" one girl asked.
My question exactly.
"Beginning way back–even before America was colonized–people didn't get along all because they weren't willing to learn about other people, their cultures, and their civilizations. This exercise is about that,” she explained.
For fuck's sake, lady. This isn’t the fucking 1600s anymore.
When no one else asked any more questions, she began speaking again. "Kaleb, I'm going to pair you with the pretty girl sitting next to you,” she stated, struggling to remember my name, but eventually giving up.
It did make me feel slightly better knowing people couldn't remember my name, even the teacher. However, I still had to do this blasted project! Well, I didn't have to, really, but knowing Kaleb, he was going to hound me about doing it until I caved and participated.
Fucking golden boy.
"I'm going to allow you all the next hour and a half to get to know your partner better!" the teacher exclaimed, clapping her hands together loudly with way too much enthusiasm. I jumped in my seat, clenching my fists under my desk.
She really needed to stop doing that.
The teacher turned her back to us and sat at her desk, leaving us to begin our projects. I could feel Kaleb's gaze on me, but I didn't turn to look at him. I didn't want to work on this project, and I certainly didn't want to allow him to get to know me better.
"Hey, Tracey, you can't just leave me hanging,” Kaleb spoke up after a moment of us just sitting in silence. I clenched my jaw in agitation, still not looking at him. "My grades are important to me."As if I actually gave a fuck.
"Then ask for a different partner that'll actually do the work with you,” I snapped at him, turning my harsh glare on him.
He slightly recoiled back from the hatred gleaming in my eyes. "A little angry there, aren't you?" he asked, arching an eyebrow at me once he recovered from his shock.
I turned away from him. He was smart; I could give him that. He now knew my name, three things about me, and he knew that I was an angry person.
Just that little bit was far more than I was comfortable with him knowing. If my father got the slightest feeling that someone knew the tiniest bit about me, it would all be fucking over.
Kaleb sighed tiredly. "Come on, Tracey. I'm not going to ask for a different partner just because you don't want to do the work." I clenched my jaw angrily. "You should be concernedabout your grades, too. Aren't you going to college after you graduate?" he asked as if everyone he knew would want to go to college.
I mean, everyone he hung out with probably would, but I wasn’t one of his friends, and I certainly wasn’t like everyone else.
Nope. Instead, I hoped to be in a coffin by the time graduation rolled around.
"No," I said harshly, turning my glare on him again. "Now stop fucking talking to me,” I snarled.
Damn it; I had just answered another one of his stupid fucking questions.
"Is there a problem here?" I heard that nasally voice ask from above us.
