My Ex-Best Friend: The Bad Boy (Smythe #1)

Chapter 3

Chapter 3

       "This is unacceptable," the culinary arts teacher, Mrs. Johansen, said. She was fuming and it was making me uncomfortable. "Getting into a food fight? The two of you are in the eleventh grade, meaning you're seventeen. You're supposed to be part of the mature grade!"

       Seb and I looked at each other, then our teacher before we both started saying our versions of the story at the same time.

       My story was the right one. Seb decided to flick flour at me while we were baking, on purpose, and when I ignored him, he 'accidentally' cracked an egg on my head. I tried my best to keep my calm, but he was so... so infuriating. 

       Needless to say, the classroom wasn't so clean anymore.

       Why couldn't Seb just get over the fact that I left without telling him?

       Mrs. Johansen held up her hand, stopping us from talking. "I don't want to hear any of it. I don't care who's fault you think it was; you were both involved. I want the both of you to clean this mess and if the bell rings, well, you're going to be late to your next class."

       Great. It was only my second day here and I was already getting into trouble. Stupid Seb.

       I huffed and made my way to the sink, grabbing a cloth and wetting it before I began wiping down the counters. Why did Seb have to be such a jerk? I was actually tempted to stop trying to get him to forgive me, but... But I did miss him. I regretted not keeping contact with him, a whole lot. He was my best friend and I did cut him off.

       However, it still didn't give him the right to treat me like this.

       The bell did in fact ring while Seb and I were still cleaning. And Mrs. Johansen wasn't joking when she said we were going to be late to class. I half-expected her to just let us go to our next class, but she didn't. She kept staring at as intensely, silently telling us to keep on cleaning.

       We ended up finishing ten minutes after the tardy bell rang, and I blamed Seb. He barely did anything to clean.

       When our teacher told us we could leave, I picked up my bag before heading off to my history class, thankful that I already had my textbook and notebook in my bag. 

       I walked in and my teacher, Mr. Shay, eyed me, seeing the cracked eggs in my hair, as well as other food. I was so happy this was the last class of the day. He sighed and shook his head. "I'm not even going to ask," he said. "The class is doing a project in partners and yours is...." He looked at the sheet of paper in his hand. "Ty."

       I nodded. "Ty... Who's that?"

       "Right, it's your second day," Mr. Shay said, mostly to himself. He looked towards the class. "Ty is the one in the back, sitting by himself."

       "The one in the red shirt?" I asked.

       "That's him," Mr. Shay said. "I handed out the outline to him, so I'll get him to explain the project to you."

       "Got it," I said before walking to the back of the class where this Ty person was.

       He looked up when he saw me, looking curiously at the dried food on me. "Artemis, I'm guessing?"

       "Yeah," I said. He pulled open the chair beside him for me to sit down. "Don't mind how I look. My ex-best friend and I kind of got into a fight."

       Ty raised an eyebrow. "Really? That must have been some fight."

       "It was," I said with a sigh. "So, what's the project?"