Run Bad Boy Run

Chapter 4

The next ten days are quiet.

Hayden hasn't done anything to implement his 'revenge' on me. I haven't mysteriously tripped in front of the whole school, nobody has accidentally spilled their lunch over my head, and I haven't been locked in the girl's locker room with my clothes missing. He just sits next to me in class, doodles on his folders, and pretends to be oblivious to my suspicious glares.

An idiot would let their guard down. This isn't my first rodeo; something is up. The air doesn't feel right.

Nonetheless, he's leaving me alone. Maybe, if I'm delusional enough to believe it, he's backing off after seeing how serious I am. Maybe he's started to actually think about the consequences that will follow his revenge.

I sit in the very back of Mrs. Beth's room, scribbling away the characteristics of phospholipid membranes. AP Biology has already started cracking down on the actual learning part of school. Unlike Mr. Johansson, Mrs. Beth bounces around the classroom, dancing and teaching biology like it's the most fascinating thing in the world.

"Psst! Hey Ember." Hayden whispers from beside me. I let out a long breath.

Here we go again.

"Ember," he tries again when I don't reply, "Ember! This is important! Embberrrr."

I avert my gaze from Mrs. Beth, who settles down on the picnic bench in the front of the room and begins reading a children's book about cells, and see that Hayden has turned completely around in his seat to face me.

"What?" I hiss. "I'm trying to take notes."

He holds his palm up to me. "You dropped your pen."

I point at him with the pen currently in my hand. "No I didn't."

"You can't tell me you're plotting revenge against me and then expect me to just take something from your hands," I finally say. "I'm not an idiot."

Hayden's eyes go wide from the insult. "You dropped a pen, Ember. I'm just giving it to you."

"And then the cell lived happily ever after!" Mrs. Beth sings enthusiastically. "Well, in reality not ever. It multiplies and then dies!"

A loud thud catches our attention. Judging by the look she's giving me from across the room, our AP teacher is not too happy with the talking. Mrs. Beth gets up and scribbles something on a diagram on the board.

"I want you guys to memorize this," she says to Hayden and I directly. "I will tell you right now that it will be one-hundred-fifty-thousand percent on the quiz next Thursday."

Warmth flushes my cheeks and without a second thought, I snatch the blue pen out of his hand and tuck it into my bag. The class continues without disruption, and before I know it, suspicions of sketchy pens and the boy sitting in front of me dissipate. Mrs. Beth quickly dives into more complicated processes and I find myself scrambling to keep up. I swear, she's doing this on purpose. Damn, Hayden. My pen begins to run out of ink.

There are times when it feels like Trouble is staring right at you, laughing, whistling, holding a large sign telling you everything that is going to go wrong in the next sixty seconds, but you ignore it anyway. I chose to ignore it, and when I press the pen to my notebook, all hell breaks loose. The tip bends like it's made out of rubber and before I have a chance to react, a thick line of blue ink streams right onto my face, sending me toppling out of my seat.

"Ember!" a girl to my right cries.

The foul taste of ink fills my mouth and I spit and choke. Everyone in the class is too busy laughing to help. Over the thundering drum of my pulse racing in my ears, Hayden is laughing the loudest.