Page 103 of We Shouldn't Be Together
“What subject do you have now?”
“Social studies. You?”she replies.
“History. Figures why you can text as easily as me.”
“My teacher’s no biggy. It’s Cammy I gotta watch out for.”
“How many classes are you stuck with her?”
“Too many, lol.”
“Does sitting next to me in chem not look so bad now?”
“Psst,“ Tyler whispers from the side of his mouth. “Dude, are you texting her right now?”
I pocket my phone. “Cool it. Don’t get me caught.”
“Gentlemen?” our teacher props his head up from his book. “Something you wish to discuss?”
“No, sir,” we reply in unison.
Tyler shrugs at me. “Sorry, man.”
I grin. “No problem.”
Phew.
My phone buzzes again. Dang, I wanna check it. But suspicions are too high, and I don’t want to waste my time in detention. I check the clock on the wall, and it’s too long until the next bell. I wonder if I can get a bathroom slip.
I shoot my hand up.
Our teacher huffs. “Yes, Mr. Nelson?”
“Can I go to the bathroom?”
“We’ve only been in class for ten minutes.”
I cross my fingers. “Is that a yes?”
“That’s a no, Mr. Nelson. Please return to the discussion questions. Everyone, you have another five minutes to answer the questions, then we are opening them up to the class.”
I look down at the scribbles on my page. I don’t know why they ask us to fill out answers when kids are gonna call out the answers later. I always just fill in whatever turns out to be the answer our teacher deems correct. It’s a gamble whether I’ll get called on, but I can always wing an answer. The teacher will do his usual thing of telling me I’m wrong. Maybe, one of the sheep in this room will become a truth seeker, but I doubt it. Then someone else in the class will explain the school-sanctioned correct response.
Heck, I don’t even think I need to write anything down because our teacher won’t be collecting our notes. So, this class is a joke. I can coast through. I’m cool with that.
I pan around the classroom at the students quietly writing their answers. This is my last shot. I’ve got five minutes until everyone is looking up, and our teacher is standing and staring at us.
I pull out my phone and read Tabitha’s last text.“Iguklbg.”
What the?
I’m risking getting caught for a bunch of gibberish?
“What?”I text back.
I pocket my phone, and soon the class is open for discussion. My phone doesn’t buzz for the rest of the lesson. It doesn’t matter because I’m moving on to chemistry, anyway.
I get into class first, which I’m kinda bummed about. Tabitha usually beats me here, and I was looking forward to seeing her as I walked up the aisle to our bench.
