When Mr. Johnson turns to write on the whiteboard, I compose my own message back.
If I don’t make it out of here alive, will you promise to look after my Tamagotchi as if he’s your own?
I slip the note back to Ness and when she snorts a laugh, I raise my brow waiting for an answer. I’m being deadly serious. We have to be the only two people on earth still raising our digital pets as if their life depends on it. She places a hand over her heart and mouths ‘yes.’ I smile at our stupidness and try not to wince as another stab of pain assaults my abdomen. I will have to see a doctor at some stage, but with both my parents being so busy and Mom flying in and out of work trips, it makes it hard to discuss these types of things. Besides, whatever it is will most likely pass soon.
“So…” Mr. Johnson says with a sudden change of tone, “… with just a few minutes left, I’m going to hand out last week’s test papers. Some of you surprised me for the better, others didn’t. If you have any questions, see me after class.”
While Mr. Johnson starts passing out the test papers, everyone packs their bags ready for recess. Jacob, who’s sitting in the middle row and who has attempted eye contact for most of the lesson, turns in his seat. Unlike all the other occasions when I ignore him, this time he meets my gaze.
‘Are you okay?’ he mouths.
‘Fine,’ I mouth back, looking away as Mr. Johnson reaches my table. He slides the paper across, and he doesn’t seem at all pleased.
“Rosie, you’re going to have to attend tutorials for both calculus and science. Thursdays. I’ll line you up a tutor.”
My shoulders slump. It’s already a struggle for me to understand anything to do with numbers. I’m arts inclined, and while I achieve stable grades in mathematics, it requires a lot of effort, and seemingly a bit more at that.
Dammit!I sigh heavily, starting to feel the pressure of my last year of high school. The weight of everything I’ve taken on is becoming unbearable. Striving for this scholarship has taken over my life, and I feel like I’m losing control. With prom design, the scholarship audition, advanced classes, and feeling like shitall the time, I’m not sure how long I can keep this up. Now, I have to throw in the mix both math and science tutorials.
The bell rings, and the room descends into chaos, chairs scraping across the floor and human bodies moving in every direction. I glimpse Jacob coming my way, but while I’m quick to make a getaway, Chelsea is even quicker, stepping in front to block his path. He indicates for me to stop, but it’s too late because I’ve already told myself I don’t care for what he has to say.
~
My unwrapped ham sandwich sits sadly on the lunch table. Every other day it’s my favorite, but today, I can’t stomach the thought of eating despite trying.
“Are you pregnant?” Nessie asks with more concern than necessary.
I shoot her a look of reproach. “No. But strangely enough, I feel like it.”
“So, maybe my question isn’t so crazy after all?”
“It’s not crazy, it’s absurd. One has to be having sex to get pregnant.”
She sighs in resignation. “I think we’re the only seniors who haven’t had sex yet.”
This surprises me for a couple of reasons. Nessie, having a father who’s the town’s pastor, is the most conservative person in the school, so for her to even consider the notion of having sex is, well, out of the box. I mean, Nessie would make an awesome candidate for a nun. Her parents are highly religious and often frown upon her subject choices, claiming drama and the arts will lead her into temptation and loose morals. They are probably right, given she’s been able to determine who in the cohort will be going to hell for fornicating. But worse, she’s probably correct in her assumption—just not the hell part.
I feel slightly alarmed by this. “Do you really think so?”
She nods slowly, allowing her own thoughts to sink in. “Look around us.” I follow her gaze as we move around the various groups of seniors. Not much has changed as far as stereotyping goes because there’s still the goths, tech kids, art alternatives, Ivy League fanatics, and jocks. What has changed, however, is that even the tech kids and goths seem to be getting it on.
“Guys have never had it so easy.”
She’s right, and it’s frightening.I’m going to die a virgin.
“‘Say, that she frown.’” I hear Jacob project from across the hall, inching closer with his dramatics. “‘I’ll say, she looks as clear,As morning roses newly wash’d with dew.’”His impromptu performance makes me smile as he delivers the last line as if he were on stage in front of opening-night critics.
“You’ve been running lines?” I ask, unable to hide how impressed I am.
He smiles proudly while unzipping his football jacket. “Of course, I said I wouldn’t let you down.”
“You did it by yourself?”
“I may have wrangled my mom into helping.”
I bite my bottom lip as a strange heat warms my heart. Perhaps I have been wrong about Jacob this time. Perhaps this is unlike all the other occasions where he’s purposefully and successfully made a mockery of me. Perhaps this time, he’s serious.
“Well,” I say. “I think you’ve found your calling.”