twisted ✔️ (being edited)

5| Chem Class

Chemistry: my worst enemy. I don't know if it's because I'm stupid, or the subject is difficult, but it doesn't come easy to me. I'm repeating the class again—for the third time now—and I really need to pass this time. It's a life or death situation, in the case I die of embarrassment. I stop at my locker and grab my textbook before slumping upstairs to class. As I walk in the room, Stephanie waves.

"So, Codi," Mr. Boomer greets as he meets me at the door. "Do you actually plan on passing my class this year?"

"Mr. Boomer, do you actually plan on teaching this year?" I spit back, and there's a moment of silence before we both start laughing. It's always been like this between us, sarcastic comments and insults here and there. He's my favorite teacher.

He presses his lips in a fine line and chuckles. "Funny. You're sitting up front this year, Codi Cameron. Maybe now you'll actually pay attention and learn something."

I roll my eyes, but listen and sit down at the lab table farthest from the door by the window. As I sit, I immediately spin around and face Stephanie. We've been in softball together since sophomore year. "Are you ready for practice tomorrow, Steph?"

She groans and drops her head on the table. "No, I forgot! Tomorrow's Tuesday! That means cardio. That means running the track. Shit. Do you think I'll be able to break my leg before then?"

"It's not that bad," I assure her, laughing.

"Easy for you to say," She counters, crossing her arms. "You're a natural runner. Hell, you even run from your problems."

I blink in dismay at her before saying, "'Kay, that was unnecessary and rude, although true. You just have to—"

My eyes trail off and get distracted as Brad walks into class. He has Chemistry too? What have I done to deserved to be blessed by Fate?

I jump in my seat as Stephanie pinches my arm and leans forward. "Who's that hottie?" She asks with a sly smirk.

As my cheeks burn, I hope Stephanie doesn't notice, and I tell her, "That's Brad. He's a new student. He transferred here over Christmas break."

We make eye contact. Brad smiles and waves, and I mimic him. Stephanie nudges my arm and says playfully, "You sure got acquainted with the new kid fast."

"We have English together," I defend, though I don't think it matters.

Stephanie sighs. "If I didn't like Kal, I'd be all over Brad." A sting a of jealously rage passes through me and I push it away fast. What the hell was that? Her smile fades into a frown and she looks at me, pouting. "Do you know if Kal likes anyone?"

I shake my head. "No, not that I know of. He doesn't usually talk about girls."

Her eyes widen as she whispers, "Do you think he's gay?"

I can't help but laugh. "No, definitely not. He's too in love with Blake Lively to be gay. Then again, he's very open minded."

"She is hot," Stephanie points out, and I agree with a nod.

As Brad starts to walk over, she leans back with a wink and he stands at the end of the table. "I guess we're lab partners," He tells me.

"Oh, damn," I tease, suddenly in a playful mood. "That's a shame. I was hoping I'd be paired up with Squishers."

His eyebrows furrow together and he asks, "Who—or what—is a squisher?"

"The class pet," Stephanie and I both answer, pointing at the yellow-brown colored fish swimming in the tank at the front of the room next to Mr. Boomer's desk.

"If you don't have a partner, you work with Squishers," I explain, and he nods.

Brad sits down beside me. "Well, I'll try to live up to his standards." As he turns his back to grab something out of his backpack, Stephanie and I share a look, smirking as we wiggles our eyebrows at each other.

Mr. Boomer does attendance and when he's done, he waves me over. "Codi, can you come over to my desk please?"

I spin in the stool and jump off and walk over. "Hey, Mr. B. What's up?"

"Not your grades, that's for sure," He deadpans with a straight face.

I cross my arms. "You didn't have to do me like that," I mutter, fighting back another eye roll.

Mr. Boomer turns his computer screen around and shows me his online grading book. My name sits on the top of the screen, above my too-embarrassing-to-admit-out-loud-grade. "You've had a 'D' for two quarters straight. I understand Chemistry isn't an easy subject for everyone, but come on, Codi. This is your third time retaking the class. If you don't get a 'B' or higher by the end of the year, you're going to fail this class—again—and have to repeat senior year. Trust me, you do not want to be a super senior."

Sighing, I mumble out, "Can't you just, like, give me sympathy points or something?"

"If I, like, did that, I'd have to accommodate all the other idiots in the class."

"No faith in us, huh?"

Mr. Boomer stares at me with a frown. "Should you really be the right person to ask me that? Look, why don't you just get a tutor?"

"And have some complete stranger see how big a moron I am?" I shake my head. "Thanks, but no thanks." I give him a thumbs up. "I'll just study my ass off." And most likely fail again. I turn around and sit back down. I don't want to repeat senior year. I don't want to take Chemistry again. Why couldn't I have been born smart?

Brad nudges his elbow against my arm. "Hey, what's with the sad face? Something wrong?"

I shake my head. "I'm fine." I'm not. I open my textbook and ignore Brad's worried looks scattered throughout the class period.