Chapter 14

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"What do you want for Christmas?" Michael asks me. I look up, shrugging. I don't know what I want. I want him, that's it. I shake my head.

"Nothing." I decide.

"There's only like 18 days-"

"15." I correct him. He rolls his eyes sassily.

"Okay, like 15 days until Christmas. Tell me." He whines.

"I told you, I don't want anything." I say, continuing my makeup work for skipping a week. I'm so glad that I get medical leave, too. Michael makes a little sigh noise, which I ignore. He sighs louder, setting his hand near my paper. Another sigh, leaning on me. Sigh. Blocks my view of my paper. Sigh. Lays on my paper. "Would you stop being a boob?" I laugh, pushing him off of my books.

"When does indoor start?" He asks.

"We had practice a few times." I shrug again. I haven't really been worried about soccer lately. I actually wouldn't even go anymore if it wasn't important to be better for college.

"When are the games?"

"January." I say absently.

"When's baseball?"

"Spring."

"But when?"

"Jesus, I dunno. In the spring. I really need to get my work done." I say. Michael pouts.

"All you do is homework." He complains.

"I have to keep my grades up, Michael." I reason. My grades and my soccer are the only things I have going for me other than math.

"You have a freaken 4.0!"

"So?"

"So. You can relax. You're valedictorian, you're the class president, you're athletic, and hot. And you need to chill out. You'll kill yourself with stress. It's okay to skip one assignment."

"No, it's really not." I shake my head. I can't even imagine skipping an assignment. Even just the one, drops my grade to a 99. Can you even imagine having all 100s, and then one 99? What college would want someone that can't keep a constant grade? None, that's which college.

"I can see the little wheels turning in your head." He smirks, grabbing my paper from me. "How mad would you be if I just..." He moves to rip it.

"Michael don't you dare!" I shout. He smiles bigger, ripping the paper in half. I gasp, feeling the pain in my stomach. "Michael! I need to turn that in."

"You need to learn to miss an assignment."

"Michael!" I say, my voice cracking. He just shot my beautiful grades right in the face. I pout my bottom lip, my eyes filling with tears.

"What do you want for Christmas?" He asks in a guilty tone. He's just trying to avoid my crying by changing the subject.

"I want for you to not rip my homework!" I say loudly. He looks at the two pieces of paper in his hands.

"No, I can fix it." He says, looking around. He sets the papers on my desk, pulling out tape. He lines it up, carefully tapping the paper back together. It's a little off. He holds it up. "See? All better. It's still allowed to be turned in. And if not, then I can go get you another one." He looks really sorry about ripping it. I inspect it carefully.

"I'm still upset." I decide.

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14 days until Christmas! Michael coughs, covering his mouth with both hands. I look up from wrapping gifts.

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