6
One is worse than the other
Monday. I had literature class with Adrik again, unfortunately.
I saw him as soon as I walked into the classroom, already sitting at our table. I wondered what accusations he would come up with this time. That I was committing a character assassination? That I was threatening to kill him? That I’d pricked him with a contaminated syringe under the table?
I put my backpack on the floor and sat down in my seat. Then I caught a whiff of chocolate and saw the idiot quietly breaking a bar into pieces under the table, eating it slowly, blatantly ignoring the sign next to the whiteboard that read no eating in the classroom.
The anarchist Cash brother, of course.
Ms. Lauris showed up a few minutes later and stood at the front of the class to start the day’s lesson.
“There are four literary genres here,” she said, pointing to what she’d just written on the whiteboard.
“Science fiction, thriller, romance, and fantasy. Choose one. We’ll then hear what each partner’s choices are along with their reasons for making them, and then finally, each pair will need to come to a consensus and select a genre. ”
The teacher went from table to table asking questions. It was pretty boring because everyone picked the same genres: romance and science fiction. No one had to try to persuade their partner to pick a different one.
When she reached our table, I was the first to speak.
“Thriller,” I chose, delighted with myself.
“Fantasy,” Adrik chose.
I wasn’t surprised that we hadn’t chosen the same genre. It was already obvious that we saw things differently. And, for fuck’s sake, could he stop chewing?
“Why fantasy, Mr. Cash?” Ms. Lauris asked with interest.
And why didn’t she call him out for eating in class?
He shrugged. “I like battles, dragons, and things like that,” he replied simply without giving anything else away.
I thought that was a stupid reason.
“Why thriller, Miss Derry?” Ms. Lauris asked.
I leaned back in my chair, ready to rattle off a great answer.
“It’s a very realistic genre, and the intrigue keeps the reader engaged. It can break from convention, allowing clichés to take unexpected twists and turns,” I argued, inspired. With a sly little smile, I continued, “But to be as blunt as my partner here, I’d mostly say because I like murder.”
A soft chuckle echoed from somewhere. This time I wasn’t going to be made to look like a fool. Not a chance.
The teacher nodded. She was about to move on to the next table, but Adrik let out a derisive snort, as if I’d just said something completely ridiculous. It got everyone’s attention.
“Very realistic?” he repeated. Then he shook his head.
“Reading is adventure, escape, entertainment, and the infinite. Reality is harsh, crude, suffocating, rigid, and confining. Why look for reality in a book if we already have to deal with it every day? There she is, insisting that something blue can only be blue, and that something round can only be round. What if I want the color to be green or the shape to be triangular? Or what if I don’t want there to be any color or shape at all?
No, there’s nothing captivating about reality.
When I read, it’s because I want to escape, even briefly, from this dull, square-jawed human existence. ”
And with that, a couple of girls bit their lips, completely captivated. The guys, meanwhile, nodded thoughtfully, as if they’d never heard anything as true. Even the teacher seemed pleased.
And me? Well, my face revealed it all. What the hell?
“An interesting opinion,” said Ms. Lauris approvingly. “I guess if Miss Derry always reads the same genre, she might as well give her partner’s genre a try. Let’s take fantasy as this group’s genre.”
I would have broken my pen in two if I’d been holding it in my hand. How in the hell was Adrik such a teacher’s pet?
Ms. Lauris went on, speaking to the class as a whole. “Discuss which book you would like to read in your chosen genre while I write the quote of the day on the whiteboard.”
I reluctantly opened the notebook and stared at it, refusing to suggest a book. I just sat there for the rest of the class because I didn’t feel like being a collaborative partner. I wasn’t used to being outshone.
As soon as the bell rang, I grabbed my backpack and got up to leave, but before I could, Adrik spoke as he put away his textbook.
“What book are we going to read?”
“No idea, aren’t you the fantasy expert?” I shot back, not wanting to sound nice.
“I can recommend a few.” He shrugged. “That’s if you prefer reading instead of getting worked up.”
“I’m not angry,” I said, frowning. I actually was, but I didn’t want to admit that he was right. Everyone already sucked up to him in class. Enough was enough.
I turned my back to him and walked past his chair, silently repeating to myself: Get out of here before you say something you shouldn’t. Get out of here, Jude. You can’t say anything you shouldn’t. Get out of here, Ju—
“The only thing left is for you to scratch my face,” he said suddenly.
Damn it.
I stopped. As soon as I turned around, I noticed the right corner of his mouth curling into a small, sly smile.
Who the hell did he think he was, a literature god just because the teacher fancied him?
The enigmatic, dark-haired boy who couldn’t be ignored because, whether he meant to or not, he looked ridiculously cool?
Well, I wasn’t going to keep my mouth shut just because he was dazzling.
And . . . because I had weak anger management skills.
“Are you comparing me to an animal?” I challenged him.
“I see you’re ruffled,” he added, slinging his backpack over one shoulder.
I squinted. “Watch your mouth, because I have a feeling that you’re everything other people are too afraid to say,” I mumbled.
“And you’re one of the most stuck-up people I’ve ever come across,” he shot back, completely unbothered.
I didn’t hold back: “Asshole.”
“Those are some insults you’ve got there,” he mocked shamelessly.
“There’s plenty more where that came from, but that’ll do for now, so I don’t end up looking worse than your brother already made me look in front of everyone,” I corrected him calmly.
Adrik nodded as if something had finally dawned on him. His smile grew bitter.
“Oh, right, I’m catching the flak for something Aegan did,” he sighed. “Fair enough, then, if that’s why you detest me.”
My more sensible side urged me to calm down, to stop being so blatant with my hatred.
At the end of the day, he wasn’t Aegan, the Cash brother I really wanted to direct all my merciless anger toward.
I had to bite my tongue and hold myself back from reacting to provocation. That meant giving an advantage.
“What books have you got?” I decided to give in, although I wasn’t too happy about it, so he wouldn’t think I “hated him.”
“I’ll leave some with you to choose from.” He shrugged.
“All right,” I agreed. My jaw was tense. “I’m in dorm F, floor five, apartment two.”
Adrik gave a slight nod and stepped around me, walking between the rows of tables.
I wanted to let him leave first, but he turned around like there was something he’d forgotten to tell me.
And he did tell me, staring at me intently and coldly with his intimidating eyes: “You’d better wake up and smell the coffee, Jude Derry. You’re getting too big for your boots.”
He left the classroom, leaving me furious and with a sense that he’d just threatened me, especially because of the low, drawn-out tone in his voice. It was only then that I realized I’d invited him to my apartment! To my safe place!
Half-hazy from that foolish mistake, I left the classroom and headed back to the apartment.
I didn’t take anything in on my bike ride there.
In Tagus, everyone had a car they barely used since all the main areas were within walking distance.
Maybe me and the eco-warriors were the only ones who had virtually nothing in comparison.
When I opened the door, Artie was pacing back and forth while trying to memorize something for a test.
“Adrik’s going to stop by to drop off some books,” I said.
There was an awkward silence, with Artie frozen in shock, her mouth forming an “O” and her eyes wide open.
“He’s coming by?” she asked a minute later, stunned.
I exhaled and set my backpack on the couch. “I think so. That’s what he said.”
“To this apartment?” she asked.
“Well, yeah.”
“Today?”
“Yeah, but I don’t know what time.”
“Fucking hell!” she suddenly shouted.
Then she ran into her room like she was dealing with an emergency, and I started hearing her frantically rummaging through drawers as she muttered to herself. “I can’t look like this! What should I put on? What did I wear yesterday? Fuck, I hardly have any clothes!”
She rummaged through every nook and cranny of her room, trying to decide what to wear. Meanwhile, I answered my phone, which had suddenly started ringing. It was a call from Tina, from home.
“Hi, Tina,” I greeted cheerfully.
“How are you, gorgeous?” she asked back. “How’s the amazing Tagus going?”
Tina spoke like she was my best friend and not my stepmother.
She never beat around the bush. The best thing that had ever happened to my mom was meeting her in her support group and falling in love.
They had both gone through so much, yet Tina had packed up her life and moved in with us to care for my mom.
“Great, everything’s amazing here,” I admitted, playing with my pen. “You can drive around in golf buggies.”
“Try not to run over anyone who doesn’t deserve it, please.” That made me laugh.
“How’ve you been? How’s Mom?” I asked, easing my way into the subject that, no matter how much we didn’t want to, we always had to get into. “Has she . . . progressed?”
“Yeah, she’s fine and she’s making progress—more than you’d think.” There was a certain joy in her voice. “We’ve turned your room into a cinema, and tonight we’re going to have a Rocky marathon.”
I liked that. I liked any idea that would help her.