Chapter Four
Juliet
Seriously! Just drop a house on me or something. I can’t believe I have to work with Jared Black. Sophomore year he spilled a whole 20oz bottle of soda on me. Not to mention he is best friends with Mark Whalan. He’ll probably report to Mark everything I do here, and his band of idiot friends will make me even more of a laughingstock than I already am. I wish I didn’t care, but I do. I care that one minute I was known for something other than being smart and nerdy and now, I’m nothing again – just that weird girl who can recite the entire first chapter of every Harry Potter book in two languages.
If I’m being completely honest with myself, it serves me right for believing a boy as popular as Mark would ever truly fall for a girl like me. For him to fall for a cheerleader would have been more believable.
But now, I have to deal with his best friend for the whole semester. Ugh! I’m trying to stay away from the type that hurt me. Jared keeps staring at me like I’m a freak, neither of us moves from our spots for a few seconds. Whatever; I just need a game plan. If I act like a super bitch, maybe he’ll report back to everyone that I’m fine. I don’t want to look like a pathetic sap who misses a certain a-hole.
I finally rise and head over to his table. He’s obviously too cool to be bothered to move. Even if it would have been the gentleman thing to do on his part. Stupid football players.
They walk around this school like they’re all Gods. A reason to never date one again. Their ego is too much to include another person. Well, most of them. My bestie, Chase, actually puts others first. I’m still getting used to Tyler, so I can’t really place him in that category yet. Let’s just say most football players at this school are jerks.
“So … uh …” Jared clears his throat. “What do you like to do?” he asks.
“Look. I’m not into small talk today or any day we’re stuck as partners. I’m sure whatever info you need to know about me you can collect from your best friend.”
“Um … I was talking about the assignment.” He says it slowly like I’m the one who can’t comprehend anything. “What do you like to do? I can do the math part or the mixing of the compounds. Doesn’t matter to me.”
I study him for a second. “It’s cool. I got this. I rather enjoy all my body parts as they are, thank you.” He flinches at that statement. “And I also know how your kind is.”
“My kind?” He lifts his gaze and elevates his brows. “I don’t know what you think you know about me. But I can assure you whatever it is, is 100 percent wrong. So, I’ll do the math if that’s okay with you and you can mix the items listed on the board.” There’s a sharp edge to his voice.
He’s not fooling me. He can pretend he’s serious all he wants but facts are facts. I’m sure he coasted his way through. He’s only in these classes to make his little superstar football record look more special than it is. I saw it before freshman year with Aaron Markle, then sophomore year I got stuck working with Gerald Sickler. Both of them are complete and utter morons, and yet they are both in Honors classes. It can’t be a coincidence that both they’re fathers are on the school board. So those two can keep coasting by and pretend to be academic achievers when really the only thing they accomplish is being great at basketball and hockey. Some of us don’t have that luxury and I’m not about to swoon all over Jared’s cute face and perfectly messy hair. Been there and done that. Not with him, but hey, I don’t need three turns to learn my lesson. Once was good enough.
I fold my arms. “Fine. But I’m double checking your work.”
He throws his hands up. “Great.” He mutters something under his breath. It almost sounds like effing, Mark. But I must be hearing things.
As I am gathering the materials. The morning announcements come on the screen. “Good Morning RSHS. I’m Selena Jenson with your morning news.” I try to tune out the rest of the announcement. The images of Mark’s lips pressed against hers floods my mind. I blindly grab the ingredients and head to the lab table.
“The Junior Elites would like to remind all of you that the tickets for the Valentine’s Day Dance will be on sale from now until February 12th. And stay tuned tomorrow for a special fundraiser that will surely have all of you sweeping that special someone off their feet.”
“Or stealing boyfriends is more like it,” I grumble.
“What?” Jared says.
“Hmmm?” I ask.
He gives me a weird look. “You, um, mumbled something about stealing boyfriends.”
Crap. Did I say that aloud? I shake my head. “I did not. I said stuffing bras.”
He stares at me for a moment. “Really? Girls really do that?”
“I don’t do that,” I say sharply as I arrange the flasks in the order we need them.
I notice the tips of his ears turning bright red while a pinkish hue casts across his cheeks. Is he blushing? Whatever; ignore it.
I focus on the flasks, and he clears his throat. “Uh, Juliet what are you doing?”
Is he serious right now? “What’s it look like, genius?” See? Typical idiot and my unlucky butt gets stuck with him for the rest of the year.
“It looks like you have two chlorides and we only need one.”
“Why don’t you worry about the problems? I have this covered.”
He shrugs. “All right. If you melt the table don’t look at me.”
I can’t wait until the bell rings. Damn oaf and his second-guessing me crap is starting to tick me off. Who does he think he is anyway? “I’m not going to melt the table! I’m top in our class or did you even know that?” Yeah, chew on that for a while.
“I knew.” He mutters something else.
“What was that?”
“Nothing.” He picks up the pages he was working on and motions to the liquid bubbling under the Bunsen burner.
Stupid Jared Black. What’s he know, anyway? Nothing! I dump the measured amounts into the bubbling water and suddenly it turns into a bright purple. Ha! I want to rub this in his face.
“Might want to—” Jared starts but doesn’t finish because our perfect purple colored liquid turns to foam and shoots to the ceiling!
I’ve never in my life screwed something up so badly. The foam spills from the glass flask and onto the table. I jump back with a squeak. Jared snatches the glass from the open flame and curses loudly. “Shit!” He drops it which shatters against the tile floor.
My hands shake at my sides as I stare at the mess upon the floor. I glare at Jared. “This is all your fault!” Is it really? No. I know it isn’t, but I do not like to be wrong. Lately, all I ever seem to be is wrong. I can’t pick the right guy. Can’t mix stupid chemicals. So yes, I’m going to take my humiliation and anger out on him.
“What? Are you crazy? I told … You know what, never mind. No matter what I say you will just blame me anyway. But just remember this, Valentine, I wasn’t the person who screwed you over.”
Wow, way to knock me down a few pegs and making me feel like absolute crap about myself. One point for Jared. Zero points for me.