Free Getting Schooled (The Wright Brothers Book 1) by Christina C Jones

interwoven in the three novels.
    So it was important. And still, I was putting it off. For one, because the class was still reading the book, and there was still time before that discussion. Also?
    I wasn’t sure I wanted to know what Jason’s thoughts were on life, and love. I was intrigued enough without that.
    “No, not today,” I said, giving him a wry smile.
    “Wow, do I need to check your temperature or something? Call a doctor?”
    I laughed a little as I studied him, and shook my head. “Nah. Not necessary.”
    He was wearing the mechanic’s shirt again today, and for the first time, I noticed the “ J. Wright ” embroidered above the pocket. No idea how I’d missed it before. “Okay,” he said, nodding. It was almost funny, that he looked so genuinely confused. “You sure you’re aiight?”
    “Yes,” I lied, for the second time in less than five minutes. “I’m fine.”
    “See you in class Friday?”
    I smirked. “What, did you miss me or something?”
    “Nah,” he said, after sucking his teeth. “Nobody missed your mean ass. I just noticed you weren’t there is all.”
    “Uh huh. Sure.”
    “You gonna answer the question?”
    I let out a little sigh, then brought my gaze up to meet his, forcing myself to smile. “I… don’t know yet. I never know useful information. Remember?” I winked at him, and then turned away, finishing my trip down the hall to my mother’s office.
    That little flirting had stripped the last of my emotional energy, and I unlocked the door with what felt like the last of my physical too. I closed it behind me, and then dropped into the chair at the desk I used, resting my head on the desk with a sigh.
    After a few moments had passed, I pulled out my phone, navigating it to a particular number. I waffled for several moments, knowing I couldn’t call it, but wanting to anyway. Finally, I tucked it away. Pulled out my laptop, started it up, and dove into my work.
    Anything to absorb myself in and make it through the next few days.

six.

     
     
    I didn’t make it to class Friday.
    Not my class, not my mother’s class, and I didn’t even bother explaining, because she already knew why. I slept in as late as my body would let me – nine in the morning, even after I’d been up at midnight the night before to go for a run.
    As soon as the sunlight pulled me from my sleep, I got up, drank a cup of Valerian tea, took more melatonin, and climbed my ass right back in the bed to toss and turn. By the time 2pm rolled around, it was clear that my body wasn’t on board with my idea to sleep away the cognizance that this day even existed.
    Logic said that a bottle of wine would easily solve my problem, but I wasn’t interested in dealing with the hangover after. Instead, I pulled myself out of bed and showered until the water ran cold, and I had to get out.
    2:42.
    I pulled an oversized tee-shirt over my head and made my way into the kitchen, searching for something that would spark an appetite. Almond milk, wheat bread, special K, tomatoes, rice crackers, apples, dried lentils, chicken breast… I pushed out a heavy sigh.
    Nobody wanted any of that shit.
    I let the refrigerator swing closed, and then just stood there, looking… crazy. Another heavy sigh, and I made my way into the living room, grabbing the remote before I flopped down on the couch. I’d just turned the TV on when my doorbell rang, and I debated about whether or not I planned to answer. It sounded again, with a little more urgency, and I drug myself up from the couch to get it.
    The same delivery guy from a few weeks ago stood on my doorstep, holding what I knew were Thai spicy wings, even through the closed box. That sweet, piquant aroma drifted up to my nose, making my stomach rumble with hunger. I didn’t even know the circumstances – I just thanked God for provision, and signed the little slip confirming I’d gotten them. He waved me off when I said I had to grab my wallet, telling me the bill