Page 8 of Saving Tracey
My body tensed at the sound of his anger, but I just continued to ignore him. I breathed in and out slowly through my nose, forcing myself to stay calm.
"Tracey, I need an A in this class. I've got hopes and dreams, even if you don't, so help me, will you?" He was calmer this time, though I could still sense that he was angry with me.
I had hopes and dreams, too—like finally escaping into a peaceful death.
I glared over at him.Why couldn't he just leave me alone?I didn't want to do this stupid project and allow him to find anything out about me! It was too damn dangerous for me, and I wasn't too keen on being beaten to the point I was fucking hospitalized for socializing with him.
"What's it going to take to get you to fuck off?" I asked him quietly.
He breathed a slight sigh of relief. "Just hang out with me twice this week; that's all I ask." I opened my mouth to protest, but he hurriedly continued on, not giving me the chance to speak. I clenched my jaw. "It doesn't even have to be outside of school. We could hang out before school or at lunch. Just please, Tracey, I really need this grade.”
I sighed, contemplating his words. It didn't have to be after school. I wouldn't make my life harder on myself by having to defy my parents seeing as I could do this during school hours. I would just have to carefully watch what I said to him to make sure nothing slipped out of my mouth that wasn't supposed to.
"Fine.” He grinned, relief flooding his features. "I'll hang out with you tomorrow morning and on Friday at lunch."
He nodded, breathing out a sigh of relief. I turned my head back to the front, clenching my fists on my lap. "Since we only have today and tomorrow left this week," the teacher began saying, "I want you all to spend the rest of class time this week getting to know your partners."
I ran my hand through my hair, sighing.
I really didn't want to do this.
I heard Kaleb shuffling some papers around. I turned my head a little to see him turning to face me with his notebook and pen on his desk. I hesitated, wondering if I made the right decision. “Come on, Tracey, work with me here." I clenched my jaw. "As soon as I have enough to write this paper, I'll leave you alone."
I had just agreed to hang out with him twice this week, didn't I? Couldn't he just be grateful for that and wait until then?
I looked over at him again silently. Judging by his expression, apparently not.
"What do you want to know?" I wasn’t happy about doing this, and it showed in my voice.
He smiled. "Yesterday you told me that you never wanted to be noticed. Why?"
Great. He wanted a fucking heart-to-heart.
"Personal reasons.” My answer was evasive, but I couldn’t answer that question.
He watched me carefully for a moment, trying to read my expression, but I kept it schooled into an uncaring one. Finally, he spoke again. "The point of me asking questions is for you to give me a proper answer and to not beat around the bush." Exasperation filled his tone.
I felt my temples begin to throb with an oncoming headache, and I sighed, reaching up with my hands to rub them. "Hey, why are you wearing gloves? We're inside. It's not cold in here."
I instantly dropped my hands back to my lap, panic gripping my chest. I didn't need him looking too deep into my clothing choices. "Well, I'm cold.” He flinched back from the coldness of my voice.
Jesus, did he have to read deeply into everything about me?
He finally took his eyes off my gloved hands, and only then could I sort of relax. “What are your views on life?"
My views on life.
Life sucked. Death would be much more peaceful. In life, you had to be afraid, and you had to watch every word you said and every move you made. You couldn't just live freely, doing as you pleased and being happy. Life was a bit overrated.
I didn't say that though. It would make him suspicious. I couldn't have him being suspicious.
Or worse, running to a guidance counselor and telling them that he thought I was suicidal.
I mean, I was, but that was none of his business.
"I don't have any views on life.” That was the best answer to go with.
He sighed and dropped his pen on his desk, reaching up with his fingers to rub his temples. Irritation marred his features as he glared down at his desk. "You have got to be the most infuriating person I've ever met." He turned his eyes to me, glaring. I recoiled back from him, my eyes widening in fear. "You're so evasive with your answers, never just being outright honest."
