into the seat next to Reese’s friend, and I don’t waste time with small talk. “So, what’s up with your girl?”
Chelsea looks at me and narrows her eyes as if she can’t stand me.
That wouldn’t be so hard to believe if I hadn’t noticed her out of the corner of my eye when she was mouthing, Yes , to Reese after I’d asked her out. As if that wasn’t enough to indicate that she wasn’t annoyed by me, after we left the cafeteria, I saw her with a shitty look on her face while she dragged Reese into the restroom.
I chalk her attitude problem up to the fact that she’s a girl, and I’m pretty sure attitude is a prerequisite for girls for entering high school.
She takes a deep breath and slips a piece of gum into her mouth. She chews a couple of times and then looks away from me. “I think she made herself pretty clear.”
Maybe it’s crystal clear to Chelsea. But I can promise that no guy I know can decode what complicated means when coming from a female.
“I don’t think so. She said that she couldn’t go out with me, not that she didn’t want to. She also said she didn’t have a boyfriend but that things were complicated.”
Mr. Anderson is standing in front of the class, expecting my attention. “Okay, let’s get started. Did everyone get the research done for today’s lesson?”
“Oops,” Chelsea says with the same attitude that she just gave me. She stares with an I-don’t-give-a-fuck glare.
“Actually, Mr. Anderson, Chelsea and I worked on it together. We worked late and forgot to copy it so that Chelsea would have hers to turn in.” I hold up my research paper and make an apologetic look toward Chelsea. “She did most of the research, and I wrote the paper. I wouldn’t feel right if I was the only one who got credit for it.” I slide the paper onto her desk and lean back in my chair.
Mr. Anderson is not stupid. He gives me a look of disbelief. “Brady, are you telling me that you and Chelsea spent last night writing a research paper together?” He sits back on his desk, resting on the edge of it, and crosses his hands over his chest.
I lean in toward Chelsea and whisper to her, “I scratch your back, and you scratch mine.” I stand up and walk to the front of the class. “True story. Look. I don’t doodle hearts and shit, Mr. Anderson. We were both doing our homework at the coffee shop. You always say to work smart, not hard, so we did.” I hand him the paper and turn around. I wink at Chelsea and head back to my seat.
The annoying girl who had drawn hearts on the corner of my page while I finished my homework at the gym last night just did me a favor. I’d thank her, but then she would annoy me even more than she does now.
Mr. Anderson pushes himself up off the desk and walks toward me, switching his gaze between Chelsea and me. “All right, you two, I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt on this one.” He looks at Chelsea and hands the paper to her. “Chelsea, if you want credit for this, take care of it and have it to me by the end of class.” He looks at me, narrowing his eyes. “Brady, watch your mouth in my class.”
Chelsea copies my work during class while I decide what questions to ask her about Reese. I know Chelsea isn’t going to give me much because, unlike guys, girls have that best-friend code. Girls take shit to their graves while guys love to bust each other’s balls.
As soon as the bell rings, I grab my bag off the floor and wait for Chelsea. We walk by Mr. Anderson’s desk, and we drop off our papers. Stopping just outside the classroom, I lean against the wall.
She stands in front of me and puts one hand on her hip as she cocks her head to the side. “All I’m going to tell you is that her shit is really complicated right now. It’s probably not as complicated as she thinks it is, but she’s about to do something…” Her voice trails off as she looks around the hall. I presume she’s keeping an eye out for Reese. “She likes