Callie Reeves is a perfectionist. She has control over everything from her friends to her grades, the cheerleading squad she captains and anyone inbetween - even when it comes to dating.
After creating a list of rules to keep her no-strings attache...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
"Remind me why I asked you to tutor me."
Summer whines, tossing a practice sheet onto her notebook page. I look away as she grumbles to herself about hiring a terminology nazi and momentarily watch the runner's circle the rubber track around the football field.
Wednesday as a whole is a sporting day, forcing those who don't do a representative sport to do GYM class. That being said, some of the athletes endure the additional exercise despite having training the following day or the same afternoon.
As seniors, we're designated to last period and the majority either go home sick or skip the class. Not that it's really a class, to begin with. You do laps, hit a volleyball, dribble a basketball or play touch football - sometimes capture the flag depending on the teachers' mood.
Hearing the sharp whistle and Coach Robinsons' heckling to move faster I return to Summer's groaning. "You asked because you didn't want to fail your next quiz and you're going to if you don't start using proper terminology."
Summer lifts her head to glare at me but fails to be threatening. The problem is she reminds me of a doll - flawless skin, feminine facial features, and doe green eyes that complete the look. If it's not her face, her short height tops off the lack of intimidation.
Although mention that and she'll curse you like a sailor.
"Not everyone is a genius."
"It's not that difficult to use trachea instead of the throat," I nod down to the papers and lean back on my hands. "Every time you come across a simple word highlight it. For example bone, go back through your notes and find out what bone it is."
She huffs, "What if I'm in a quiz, how am I going to go through my notes?"
"That's why you do the practice questions given and the ones in your textbook. Majority of the time that's where the teachers get the questions but just rephrases them."
"Are you certain?"
"I had Miss Phillips in tenth grade for Biology and she's still using the same trick to see who studies properly," I explain and watch as she shuffles through her notebook for another practice quiz. "What topic is that?"
"Digestive system."
"Okay, get to it then."
She starts focusing on the paper and I go back to the tracks when I hear another heckle. Coach Robinson is yelling at someone on their phone, they barely acknowledge him as they walk the track and text. I try not to laugh as she jogs a few steps and throws her hands out as if asking if he's happy.
He shakes his head before going back to the touch football match in the center field. Out of the corner of my eye I notice a small cluster coming up behind her and one, in particular, lifts her. She squeals, the high pitch making my ears ring.
