Slammed (Slammed #1)(19)

5.

"I keep tellin' myself

That it'll be fine.

You can't make everybody happy

All of the time."

-The Avett Brothers,Paranoia in B flat Major

Chapter Five

My pulse is pounding against my temples as I climb out of bed. I’m in dire need of my own box of altoids. My entire body is dragging from hours of alternating between crying and inadequate sleep.

I make a quick pot of coffee and sit down at the bar and drink it in silence, as I dread the day that lies ahead of me.

Kel eventually comes in, wearing his pajamas and darth vader house shoes. “Morning,” he says groggily as he grabs a cup out of the sink strainer. He walks over to the coffee pot and proceeds to pour coffee into the World's Greatest Dad cup.

“What do you think you’re doing?” I ask him.

“Hey, you aren’t the only one who had a bad night.” Kel climbs onto a stool on the opposite side of the bar. “Fourth grade is rough. I had two hours of homework,” he says as he brings the cup to his mouth.

I take the coffee out of his hands and pour the contents into my own, then toss the mug into the trashcan. I walk to the refrigerator, grab a juice and place it in front of him.

Kel rolls his eyes and pokes through the hole at the top of the pouch, bringing it to his mouth. “Did you see they delivered the rest of our stuff yesterday? Mom’s van finally got here. We had to unpack the whole thing by ourselves, you know,” he says, obviously trying to guilt me.

“Go get dressed,” I say. “We’re leaving in half an hour.”

***

It begins to snow again just as I drop Kel off at school. I hope Will is right about it being gone soon. I hate the snow. I hate Michigan.

When I arrive at the school, I go straight to the administration office. Mrs. Alex is powering on her computer when she notices me and shakes her head.

“Let me guess, you want 'C' lunch now?”

I should have brought her Kel’s coffee.

“Actually, I need a list of third period electives. I want to switch classes.”

She shoots me a questioning glance. “Aren’t you in the Poetry elective with Mr. Cooper? That’s one of the more popular electives.”

“That’s the one,” I confirm. “I’d like to withdraw.”

“Well, you have until the end of the week before I submit your final schedule,” she says as she grabs a sheet and hands it to me. “Which class do you prefer?”

I look over the short list of available electives.

Botany

Russian Literature

My options are limited.

“I’ll take Russian Literature for two hundred, Alex.”

She rolls her eyes as she turns and enters the information into the computer. I guess she’s heard that one before. She hands me yet another ‘new’ new schedule, and a yellow form.

“Have Mr. Cooper sign this and bring it back to me before third period and you’ll be all set.”

“Great,” I mumble as I exit the office.

When I successfully navigate my way to Will's classroom, I’m relieved to find the door locked and the lights turned out. Seeing him again was not on my to-do list for the day, so I decide to take matters into my own hands. I reach into my backpack and retrieve a pen, press the yellow form up against the door to the classroom, and begin to forge Wills name.

"That's not a good idea.”

I spin around and see Will standing behind me with a black satchel slung across his shoulder, keys in hand. My stomach flips when I look at him. He’s wearing khaki slacks and a black shirt, tucked in at the waist. The color of his tie matches his green eyes perfectly, making them hard to look away from. He looks so, professional.

I step back as he moves past me and puts his key in the door. He enters the room and flips the light switch on as he places his satchel on the desk. I'm still standing in the doorway when he motions for me to come in.

I smack the form face up on his desk. "Well, you weren't here yet, I thought I’d spare you the trouble,” I say, defending my actions with a defensive tone.

Will picks up the form and grimaces.

“Russian Lit? That’s what you chose?”

“It was either that or Botany,” I reply evenly.

Will pulls his chair out and sits. He grabs a pen and lays the paper flat, pressing the tip of the pen on the line. He hesitates, though, and lays the pen down on the paper without signing his name.

“I thought a lot last night…about what you said yesterday,” he says. “It’s not fair of me to ask you to transfer just because it makes me uneasy. We live a hundred yards apart; our brothers are becoming best friends. If anything, this class will be good for us, help us figure out how to navigate when we’re around each other. Besides,” he says this as he pulls a paper from his satchel and shoves it forward on the desk. “You’ll obviously breeze through.”

I look at the test I had completed the day before, and it’s marked with a ‘100.'

“I don’t mind switching,” I say. “I understand where you’re coming from.”

“Thanks, but it can only get easier from here, right?”

“Right,” I lie. He’s completely wrong. Being around him every day is definitely not going to be easier. I could move back to Texas today and I’d still feel too close to him. However, I still can't come up with a good enough argument for my conscience to convince me to switch classes.