Chapter Five
Evie
After a long and arduous Tuesday at school doing stuff that isn’t my art, LRG is my last class of the day.
Which I guess is good because I’m sure I can ditch from time to time.
I mean, the only things that are mandatory in the class are attendance and participation, and I’m sure I can feign illness once in a while.
Not on my first day, though. So with a huff, I make my way to the classroom. The place is pretty full—I don’t know why I assumed only a handful of students take the class. It is, after all, an easy class.
I walk inside and make my way to an empty seat in the back, when my legs freeze in place. Because sitting in the front of the room, chatting with a girl, is Noah Barrington.
“Oh great,” I grumble. “What are you doing here?”
He glances up midsentence, and his lips press shut as his eyebrows dip. He narrows his blue eyes at me. “I take this class. Are you lost?”
The girl next to him snickers.
“Do I look lost? In case you haven’t noticed, I’ve been going to this school for the past four years.”
“Much to my horror,” he mutters.
“Oh come now, Mr. Neat Freak. Are you still mad at me because you got detention? He’s such a rebel, isn’t he?” I wink at the girl. “Girls like rebels, don’t they?”
“Evie, will you get lost and go wherever you need to be?”
“I am where I need to be, Einstein.”
His brows dip again. “You’re taking LRG?”
“Yes, I am.” I make my way to the empty seat in the back.
“Why?” he calls after me. “You want to learn how to be a responsible adult?” He snorts. “As if that’ll ever happen.”
“It’s not a choice,” I snap at him as I drag my bag off my shoulder and sit down. “I’m missing some credits to graduate.”
He folds his arms over his chest. “Why am I not surprised? Of course you’re missing credits. You don’t have a responsible bone in your body.”
“Shut your mouth before I make you. One day in detention and he’s acting like a complete psycho,” I mutter.
“I’m the psycho?” he demands. “Just look at the paint in your hair. You look like Harley Quinn.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment, thank you.”
“Of course you would,” he mutters.
“Do you ever get tired of hearing your own nagging?”
“Do you ever get tired of your own mess?”
“Is that arguing I hear in my class?” Mrs. Duncan asks as she walks into the room. “I thought there are no arguments in my class because my students are mature young adults who know how to have civilized conversations. Or do I need to dedicate another class to the topic?”
Noah’s eyes widen to epic proportions. He quickly twists around in his seat and takes out his notebook. I try not to laugh out loud. As far as goody-goodies go, that dude would win the gold medal. I swear he’s every teacher’s favorite student.
Mrs. Duncan’s eyes travel from me to Noah for a few seconds before settling back on me. She smiles. “Evelyn Hastings, right?”
“Evie.”
“Of course. I had your brother last year. He’s such a talented young man. I’m so proud of how he performed at the Young Chefs of Tomorrow competition.”
“As am I and my parents and sister. Though I have to warn you, Mrs. Duncan. Don’t expect me to be even remotely as good as him. The last time I tried to bake cookies? I nearly burned the house down. Then again, I was only five.”
It’s obvious that Mrs. Duncan is super disappointed that someone who shares Liam Hastings’s genes will suck at this class.
But she puts on another smile and says, “We’re so happy to have you join our class.
You missed out on a lot of vital life skills, since you’re coming so late into the semester, but I know there is still so much for you to learn.
And I’m glad you decided to join our class right now because we’re just about to start a new project. ”
She reaches into her bag, produces a folder, and faces the class.
“For this assignment, you’ll be paired up in teams of two and pretend to be married.
” She walks through the rows, passing out a paper to every student.
“You will choose a job from the list provided on your paper, and then you’ll take on all the responsibilities that come with being a married couple.
Throughout the next few weeks, I’ll assign various tasks you’ll complete as a married couple, and they will most likely grow a little difficult with each assignment.
For today, I’ll assign you a spouse and then you’ll spend the rest of the period choosing a career.
As you see on the list, there is a starting salary written next to every possible career choice.
And there is also the average salary. Take that into account when choosing a career because some careers offer a lot of growth and opportunity while others don’t. ”
She hands me a paper, and I quickly scan the list for an artist. Bingo. But only twenty-five thousand? I’d like to think I’d be more successful than that.
“I’ll announce the couples now,” Mrs. Duncan starts to say, but the girl sitting next to Noah raises her hand. “Yes, Mallory?”
“Why can’t we choose our spouses? Marriage is a choice.”
“You’re completely right about that,” she says. “But marriage is also hard. People change as they grow older. I want to see how you kids will manage being with someone who might not be what you imagine the perfect spouse is.”
Mallory scowls like that answer didn’t satisfy her at all. Honestly, I don’t care who I end up with. This whole assignment is ridiculous. Why should I worry about marriage and adult responsibilities when I have only a few months to still be a kid? True, I’ll be eighteen soon, but still.
Mrs. Duncan stands before her desk with a piece of paper—probably the partners she matched—and is about to open her mouth, but then she picks up her pen and makes a correction on her list. She starts to pair everyone up. Mallory looks crushed when she’s not paired up with Noah.
“Noah Barrington and Evelyn Hastings—sorry, Evie Hastings.”
“What?!” I cry.
“Mrs. Duncan.” Noah’s hand shoots up. “I can’t be paired with her.”
“No, you don’t get it.” I get up from my seat and march over to her. “I can’t be married to him! He’s the last person I’d choose as my husband.”
“We never work well as partners.” Noah joins me before her desk. “I almost failed my last project because of her.”
“I mean, just look at him,” I go on. “He has a serious problem being a neat freak. Who in their right mind could live with someone like that?”
“She’s a total slob,” he says. “Waking up to that every morning would be a complete nightmare.”
“Arranged marriages should be banned from the world!” I say.
“Relax.” Mrs. Duncan holds up her hands. “I’ll admit, Noah and Evie, I originally hadn’t planned to pair up the two of you. But after the argument I heard when I walked in today, I decided you guys should be teamed up.”
“Why???” I nearly wail.
“Because this class is about learning. It’s about growth.
It’s about accepting other people for who they are and what they have to offer.
Part of being an adult is having to learn how to navigate difficult relationships.
You might not get along with your coworkers.
You might not get along with your boss. You might not get along with your spouse’s family.
This is the perfect assignment for you to learn how to navigate those kinds of relationships.
” She gestures to the rest of the class.
“I tried my best to pair up people who may not see eye to eye. I think you all will gain a lot from this assignment.”
I stand there staring at her with my jaw practically sweeping the floor. She’s kidding, right? Please tell me she’s kidding. Because there’s no way in heck I’m marrying Noah Barrington. No way in heck.
Noah narrows his eyes at me. “If you even think of calling me a pet name, I’ll divorce you.”
“Whatever,” I mutter as I head back to my seat. “Shnookums.”
He whirls around and glares at me.
“Actually, I’ll just stick with Mr. Neat Freak or Mr. Stick-Up-His-Butt. You’re not cool enough for Shnookums.”
“Mrs. Duncan,” Noah whines. “She’ll make me fail.”
“There are no fails in my class, Noah. I know you guys can overcome this. Noah, return to your seat, and Evie, please take the desk next to your husband. You need to choose careers.”
A shiver of disgust passes through my body. Ugh, husband. That word should not be anywhere near my name and his.
Releasing another groan, I grab my stuff from my desk in the back and plop down at the one next to his.
He stares at the space before him, his lips pressed in a tight line. Crossing my arms over my chest, I huff and turn away from him.
A few silent seconds ticks by.
“This class is important to me,” he says. “Why did you have to choose this one out of all the others?”
I turn to him. His eyes are set on mine, though they’re not filled with anger or annoyance, but worry. Like he thinks I’ll mess something up for him.
“Really? Baking cookies is so important to you?”
He groans. “This class isn’t only about baking cookies. I want to be prepared for when I enter the real world.”
“I heard nothing can really prepare you for the real world. Life throws curveballs at you and you have to roll with the punches. And that’s what makes it interesting. You can’t plan out your life.”
He doesn’t say anything as he watches me. Then he puffs up his cheeks and gestures at his sheet of paper. “Let’s get this over with, then. What career are you choosing?”
“Artist.”
He studies the paper. “A salary of twenty-five thousand a year and there’s barely any growth.”
“I’ll be so successful, I’ll make a hundred times that.”
“Okay.”
“What are you choosing?”
He studies the paper again, his eyes getting a strange look I’ve never seen on him before. It’s almost like he’s yearning for something. Something he maybe can’t have?
I’ve never been able to read the guy. He’s so closed off it’s like he’s worried if he shows an ounce of vulnerability, the world will come to an end.
I don’t get him. At all.
“Quarterback for a pro football team,” he finally says. “Salary is great and there’s room for growth.”
“Predictable.”
“Any more predictable than you? We both basically chose what we want in real life.”
True. I don’t know why I thought he might want to go a little wild and choose something completely different. Then again, I am dealing with Noah. He never strays from the path. And about me choosing what I want in real life? I can’t see myself doing anything else, even in a fictional reality.
“How’s it going?” Mrs. Duncan asks as she comes to stand before us. She leans over our papers to check our careers. “Nice. See? That wasn’t so bad, was it?”
Considering we didn’t kill each other…
She turns around to address the other students. “Class, good job on choosing your careers. For homework, I’d like you to get together with your spouses and complete the list of tasks I’ve written on the assignment page. You’re dismissed and have a good day.”
I start packing away my things while Noah still stares at the list of careers. That weird look is back on his face.
As I get to my feet, his head lifts. “We should meet up at one of our houses later tonight.”
“Or we can go right now. I don’t want to spend my entire night doing this project. Nighttime is my art time.” Mom’s always on my case because I stay up way, way too late working on my masterpieces. But I can’t help it.
“No, I can’t right now,” he says. “I have a thing.”
“A thing?”
“Yep.”
I wait for him to elaborate, but he doesn’t. Just keeps staring at the paper.
“What thing?”
He glances up. “A thing. We can meet after. I’ll be at your house in two hours.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “What shady stuff are you into?”
“It’s not shady.”
“Right. Because Mr. Perfect has never broken a rule in his life. You know, they say it’s the good ones you need to look out for.”
He swings his backpack over his shoulder and gives me a look. “I’ll be at your place in two hours.”
As I watch my “husband” walk off, I’m tempted to follow him to find out what he’s up to. But I’m not that curious and I’d rather not be a stalker. For all I know, Perfect Noah probably volunteers somewhere. It’s nice and all, but why couldn’t he just tell me?
Whatever. I have two hours to finish my other homework and get some art done before my married life begins.