All I could see were RIP's all over his message board. A girl named Samantha wrote
So sorry he had to do it himself. He was such a sweet guy and he helped me once at the library. RIP Terry!
"Oh my god," I muttered again. There was a link in his message board and I clicked it. It led me to a site about local DC news and the title of the page was Terry Richmonds, 16, shocks school with sudden death.
I didn't want to read it anymore. I closed my laptop and hugged my pillow. I was more than certain Terry was whom Meredith told me about. And I was now sure that the Reeds moved back here to get rid of the drama back home, and I was sure his parents knew Dylan had something to do with this. I made a mental note to check up more on it later tomorrow.
I wouldn't allow myself to sacrifice my own life because of him; no matter how bad he's going to make it but I will not. I'm not that religious; I mean, I do believe in God and in an afterlife, but even with just the basics of it I did not believe in killing myself as the way out.
I just won't allow myself to.
*
"What's on your mind?" Sarah interrupted my daydreaming as she took a crunchy bite out of her carrot stick. I could only worry about the camping trip happening after school, today. I was so busy imagining different scenarios that I spaced out during my Calculus quiz and nearly walked into a wall on my way to the cafeteria.
"A lot," I said with a smile. I was tired already, and I didn't want Sarah to notice it.
"Well you have to relax," she said. She scooted beside me and I froze. "You're forming a permanent crease between your brows," she said. She rubbed my temple and I couldn't even blink. I could sense other guys shoot me looks of envy, and I was very glad Dylan wasn't here to see how envious everyone was.
Her cold touch against my warm temple quickly ended as she lifted her hand away and smiled at me. I returned a very sheepish smile that I was sure got a couple of laughs from the formerly envious guys.
"So where's Dylan?" she said as she returned to her usual spot. Great. There was no escape from Dylan.
"He said he was going to check out some library books for the American History essay, I think," I said. Mr. Marslow surprised us with a one-week report that had to be a minimum of seven pages long.
"Oh God, don't remind me. I haven't even started looking for a topic!" Sarah exclaimed as she burried her face in her hands.
Great. The only thing we could talk about was Dylan and schoolwork.
"So, are you going to the game against Preston next Friday?" I asked. It was kind of related to school, but only the fun part of it. I guessed that was progress. I was about to grab a fry from the full plate in front of me but I immediately felt squeamish.
"Are you kidding?" she exclaimed as she took a sip of her diet coke. "I can't wait to see you and Dylan wipe them out clean; honestly, it's the talk of classes. We haven't made it that far into soccer since forever, but we all feel next Saturday is the breakthrough," she said with a smile.
My stomach unnerved some more; this meant Dylan and I had to work as one, and in order for that to happen he had to step down from his throne and join his fellow peasants in the area of fair play. We just couldn't lose; everyone was counting on us.
The bell cut us off from any more interaction and Sarah waved goodbye. I waved back awkwardly and left my uneaten tray of food on the table. I walked quickly towards class, hoping not to run into Dylan. I, for some reason, felt that he did not go to the library to check out books, but where he was concerned me.
Mr. Marslow sat on the desk with his usual pinched face as he waited for us to fill up the classroom. I got into my usual seat and glanced to my left at Sarah, who was yet in another conversation with one of her friends. She got around well, and I didn't know how she did it.
"Class, settle down," Mr. Marslow said as the clock was precisely at twelve. He closed the door behind him and I gulped. Dylan was late, and Mr. Marslow did not accept tardiness. Even worse, Dylan did not accept someone berating or lecturing him.
Five minutes into the classroom and I concentrated on nothing from the board but was worried where Dylan was. I tapped my foot nervously against the carpet floor and my body heated up.
"Mr. Forrester," Mr. Marslow said. I looked up. I couldn't answer whatever question he was going to throw my way; I didn't even prepare for today's class.
Out of nowhere Dylan barged into the door, sweat covered his face as he stood panting right by the door. I sighed in relief; mostly because Mr. Marslow would forget to ask me and mostly because Dylan was back. He had no books in his hand. I guessed he wasn't at the library.
"Sorry," he said with a toothy smile. This was the second time he was late to Mr. Marslow's class, and the first time, Mr. Marslow let it slip.
"This is the second time, Reed," Mr. Marslow said dissaprovingly as he crossed his arms against his chest. He had a sour expression on his face, something he rarely pulled.
"Yeah and I said I was sorry," Dylan said as he walked towards his desk away from Marslow. Bad move.
"Get back here, boy," Marslow yelled. I could see his nostrils flaring up from where I was sitting. I gulped, praying that Dylan wouldn't be a smartass and actually listen to Marslow. I turned to see Sarah, who had a surprised expression on her face.
"What is it?" Dylan said, he too crossed his arms. His face was red and he looked like he wasn't in the mood for any intervention. I ran a hand through my hair. I wanted to shake Dylan and tell him to stop being an idiot.
"Don't use that tone with me, Reed," Mr. Marslow said. Dylan stepped closer to Mr. Marslow, a bit too close that their faces were almost touching.
"That's funny, because it's the exact same tone you're using with me," Dylan said with a smirk. The class errupted into whispers and for once Mr. Marslow did not shut them up. I looked at Sarah and she shot me a concerned look, like wanting me to calm Dylan down. I shrugged not knowing what to do.
"Or is it okay for you to use it but not acceptable for me to use it?" Dylan said with yet a second smirk. Mr. Marslow looked like he had fire coming out of his nostrils at this point. Dylan won; as always. Dylan smiled at the class before walking towards the desk.
"Reed, out," Mr. Marslow could finally say. His face looked like it was about to explode.
"Why's that?" Dylan answered from behind me.
"Dylan just stop," I muttered to him as I turned around. Dylan shot me a look but ignored me.
"Really, Mr. Marlsow. Why should I leave?" Dylan asked again as he placed a foot over his lap.
Mr. Marslow opened the door to the classroom. He soon shut the door so hard against the frame that I was sure the door would fall off. The thunder that followed silenced the whole class.
"Fine. Stay, but I'll talk to you after class" Mr. Marslow said. We were already ten minutes late in class and Mr. Marslow took his class timing religiously, as known.
"What a wuss," Dylan said from behind me. I didn't reply.
Mr. Marslow stood in front of the desk and collected some papers he had on his desk. Before he passed them to anyone else he walked towards our desks first and he handed Dylan his quiz followed by mine.
A big fat zero was right at the top of the page. My jaw dropped. I could see a crossout of a ten at the top. My answers were all correct. Mr. Marslow figured out that Dylan and I had cheated. I gulped, at this moment, my grade didn't matter as much as Dylan's. I turned to face him but he was already staring at me in anger. He handed me his quiz, his eyes never breaking away from mine. He got a zero as well. My head was so faint that I thought I would pass out any moment.
"You two see me after class," Mr. Reed said before continuining passing out other quizzes.
Dylan muttered something inaudible and I hoped it wasn't about me.
"I guess it won't be a fun weekend for you after-all," Dylan whispered to me. I could feel the hairs on my neck crawl up and goosebumps cover my skin.
I wiped my face with my hand and turned over my quiz. I glanced at Sarah who beamed at her own quiz. Even that didn't make me smile.
The rest of the class was a blur; my heart was pounding hard constantly and I worried about both Mr. Marslow's lecture at the end of class and Dylan's "revenge" over the weekend.
Before I knew it the bell rang; it was both a blessing and a curse and Dylan and I waited by Mr. Marslow's desk. I was surprised Dylan actually listened to Mr. Marslow.
Mr. Marslow sat on his desk as he took our two quizzess from us.
"Does anyone know why I gave you two zero's?" he asked. His eyes only met mine and not Dylan's. He was sick of him already.
I did not reply.
"It's because the exact same answers and handwriting was on both papers," Mr. Marslow said. I could sense Dylan glare at me. I looked away. I was so stupid not to change the format of the answer and feign my handwriting even more, but again I was nervous so I didn't think straight.
"It's because we studied together, same notes and everything," Dylan tried to justify.
"And because of this you suddenly adapted the same handwriting?" Mr. Marslow said, waving the papers in the air.
"You can't prove anything," Dylan said with a shrug. I was so close to rolling my eyes. Why couldn't Dylan just accept that he was losing?
"I'm not changing the grade," Mr. Marslow said. "Forrester you're excused, Reed you stay. I think we have to place some new guidelines to your behavior in this class," Mr. Marslow said. Dylan nodded for me to leave. I gulped at took my quiz from Mr. Marslow and left the classroom and waited by the door. Mr. Marslow stepped towards me and closed the door, but he gave a look I couldn't quite interpret right before he closed the door.
He couldn't too be afraid of Dylan, could he?
