Chapter 4 Kai #3
I keep my feet planted on the ground, refusing to sit. “Isn’t it more disruptive to rearrange our seating chart? Weren’t we all working well with our previous lab partners?”
Mrs. Field draws a dry smile. “No, that’s incorrect. In fact, you have your new partner to thank for that.”
At that, I sit.
Dang, Mrs. Field. That’s cold.
I turn to Tabitha, who’s acting surprisingly sheepish. “You?” I question. “You’re the reason we all moved?”
“Not…” her voice cracks. “Not just me.”
I hunch in defeat as more students file into their new seats. My gaze follows Tabitha’s leader, Camila Garcia. Should’ve known she’d be the reason for turning a crappy class into an even bigger soul-sucking experience.
Once everyone is seated and the muffled voices get louder in mild protest, Mrs. Field determinedly gets class underway. I barely take note of what she says, but she writes page numbers on the board. So, like a zombie, I flip to the page and lazily scan the words.
The mutterings around the room die down and with the barest enthusiasm, I lean over my desk and mark up my textbook.
Reading this crap isn’t exactly fun for me, but it sure beats taking any notice of the person next to me.
Heck, maybe Mrs. Field is onto something.
Maybe seating me next to the worst person on the face of the planet will get me to learn something.
Hmm, maybe not the worst. I lift my head to view Camila on the other side of the room. She’s the worst person on earth. Tabitha is just a close second.
As if she read my mind, Tabitha shifts beside me.
Ugh. I can’t even say her name in my head. It’s like summoning Beetlejuice.
She keeps shifting as if she wants to talk.
Is she serious?
Talk.
To me.
The person who clearly can’t stand her.
Tabitha clears her throat and murmurs, “I thought your name was just Kai.”
The creases on my forehead actually hurt. “What?”
“What did Mrs. Field call you? Mala… Malakai?”
My lip upturns. “Yeah, my name. What of it?”
She rears back. “Nothing, I just… I guess I didn’t know before.”
“Bravo for you,” I snarl as my pent-up rage begs to unleash. “You actually learned something in that air-filled skull of yours.”
She gasps. “You don’t have to be so harsh.”
I sit taller, looming over her. “Don’t I? Give me one good reason.”
Her bottom lip drops, and a squeamish sound comes out. She blinks a few times, flapping her ridiculously long lashes. Nope, not doing this. Not looking at this horrible girl.
“Thought so,” I whisper roughly, and turn back to my textbook.
“I should be the one protesting about sitting near you.”
“You?” I turn and face her. Her doe eyes have slit into a frenzied state. “You’re the reason we’re plonked together. What right do you have to protest?”
“I should be treated better than being forced to sit next to a tacky non-conformist.”
I snigger at her. “Are you trying to insult me?”
Her eyes narrow and her features harden. “It’s high school. Since when is not fitting in a good thing?”
“Girl, I’m captain of the soccer team. I fit in just fine.”
“Maybe when you’re wearing a uniform.” She crosses her arms as disgust distorts her face. “I’ve seen how you dress outside of school when you carry around that ridiculous skateboard.”
“Ridiculous? I’m ridiculous?”
She doubles down, tilting her head as she gives me a once-over. “That’s what I said.”
“You’re so full of yourself.” I lean in, growing my frame to intimidate her. “You’re a nasty girl, who’s so ugly inside, that she says vile things to people to feel a shred of happiness.”
The venom in her stare decreases, taken off-guard by my words.
I hit the desk with my fist and make her jump in her seat. As I lean in closer, I coldly whisper, “You’re kidding yourself if you call that feeling happiness. You’re a mean, spiteful girl, and I hope you get everything that’s coming to you.”
A whimper squeaks out of her, and her bundled hands sneak under her chin. As I pull back, I take in her child-like scared posture as she shivers under my stare.
I turn to face the front, glad I’ve silenced her. She deserved every single word. Probably more.
“Kai, Tabitha,” Mrs. Field says, stopping by our bench. “Everything okay over here?”
“Perfect,” I reply, “if you separate us immediately.”
Mrs. Field cocks an eyebrow and then taps Tabitha’s open textbook. “No, perfect is you two getting your work done quietly.”
“Fine by me,” I grumble. “I have nothing to say to this girl.”
“Tabitha?” Mrs. Field asks, scrutinizing Tabitha’s notebook. “Do you have the homework assignment I asked for?”
“Oh, umm…”
Mrs. Field watches Tabitha scramble between her notes. “Your parents signed it?”
Signed it? Did we all need to do that?
“Umm, yes, ma’am. Well, umm, my mom did. My dad was still working late.”
“That’s quite all right,” Mrs. Field says. “As long as you’ve finished your work and have a signature, it’s all I require.”
Tabitha retrieves the paper and hands it to our teacher. “Here.”
“Thank you,” Mrs. Field nods. “Now, I haven’t seen you lift a pen yet.”
Tabitha leans forward, and from the corner of my eye, I notice her hand tremble as she lifts her pen. “Sorry, ma’am.”
Huh. Possibly the first time sorry has left her lips.
Wonders never cease.
“That’s better,” our teacher comments, and then moves on down the aisle.
“A signature?” I mutter, still wondering if I’m on the hook for that, too.
“It’s nothing,” she grunts. “She’s obsessed with singling me out.”
Oh, brother. Cue massive eye roll.
I fix the pieces together inside my head, guessing the signature and this sudden lab partner reassignment go hand-in-hand.
Okay, I understand punishing Camila and Tabitha, but why do the rest of us have to suffer?
Surely, Tabitha and I hating each other’s guts is less productive than Tabitha and Camila running their mouths all lesson.
Again, I catch Tabitha’s hand in the corner of my eye.
Whoa, she’s actually writing.
Okay, Mrs. Field, I guess there’s some method behind this madness.