Attracting Trouble

I yanked my locker open savagely, throwing my economics notebook in with more force than necessary.  It bounced off the back wall before tumbling out and hitting the ground near my feet.  Cursing, I kicked at it, remembering against my will the look of smug satisfaction on Mr. Phelps’s face only minutes earlier.  I sighed, stooping to pick up the battered book.  If only I’d skipped the period, none of this would have happened.  Or, maybe it would have, just at a later date.  One thing was clear:  Mr. Phelps was totally gunning for me.  He’d spent Monday and Tuesday calling on me relentlessly in class, regardless of the fact that I hadn’t raised my hand to answer his questions.  Instead of conforming like the rest of my clueless peers, I had given him answers I knew to be correct; answers that went against everything he was teaching.  He’d taken great delight in telling me that I was misinformed, and that gathering my information from unreliable sources would only see me failing the class.  Smart person that I was, I had just shrugged in a “doesn‘t bother me” sort of way and let him babble on about an economy that no longer existed and hadn‘t been relevant for over six years.  After all, I knew he was just getting payback for me insulting him last week, and could live with that, despite the way he went about it.  So instead of skipping class today as I‘d intended, I had gone with the stupidly optimistic outlook that he’d had two days to get all of his hateful feelings out of his system, and would now go back to treating me the same way he treated everyone else.  How wrong I was.  I had entered the classroom to his unpleasant scowl, which should have been the first sign as to how the rest of the period would play out.  But hey, call me naive, I still thought things would be okay.  To my chagrin, no sooner had I taken my seat than the torture began.  Even Janie Miller, the girl in the lead for Valedictorian, had groaned in misery when she’d put her hand up for the umpteenth time to answer a question and had yet again been dismissed in favour of me, the girl who was trying hard to blend in with the furniture.  I’d kept my anger under control for as long as I could, holding onto my blasé attitude right up until the point where he had exploded and asked, “How dumb can you be!?”
To which I’d inadvertently said, “Only as dumb as you’re making me with you’re crap lessons.”
I seriously needed to invest in a filter between my mouth and my brain.  Either that or a really sturdy shovel, as this was the second time I’d pretty much dug my own grave in his presence.  The entire class had gasped audibly, all heads swivelling frantically between me and a very red-in-the-face Mr. Phelps. 
“I beg your pardon, Miss Duke?” he sputtered.
“What I meant to say was,” I started, trying to backtrack.  I needn’t have bothered.  He was well past the point of reasoning.
“It seems you lack the ability to absorb information,” he continued loudly, talking over top of me.  “Tell me, is there anything useful in that thick head of yours?”
My cheeks heated as he stalked over to my desk, looming over me.  I wondered briefly if he actually listened to the words that came out of his mouth.  Because they applied to him more than they applied to me.  But far be it for me to point that out and land myself in more hot water.  Instead, I stayed silent, glaring up at him.
Quicker than I could blink, he snatched my notebook off my desk.
“Hey!” I said, trying to reach for it.
“Quiet, Miss Duke!” he snapped, flipping through the pages.  I could feel twenty five pairs of eyes on me, waiting with baited breath for my next move.
“What is this rubbish you’re writing in this book?” he asked, frowning at all the notes I’d taken not from his classes, but from regular emails Melanie Brown had been sending me.  “None of this has anything to do with what I‘ve been teaching.  Where are the notes from my lectures?” he asked, reaching the end of the filled pages.
I shrugged, annoyed beyond belief.  Usually, in the presence of authority figures I was a nervous wreck.  Timid and tongue tied.  I don’t know what it was about Mr. Phelps - it could have been his pompous attitude, or simply the fact that he’d pissed me off royally, but I had no trouble telling him exactly how I felt.  A big part of me thought he deserved the honest truth, harsh as it was.  It was only the smaller part of me that cringed in fear of his reaction.
“I don’t write down incorrect information, no matter what source it supposedly comes from.”
I’d said the words as little more than a whisper, but with the dead silence encompassing the room, they rang out loud and clear resulting in another audible gasp from the class, this time in complete unison.  Mr. Phelps tensed visibly, his face turning an ugly beet red, a small vein throbbing by his temple.  His nostrils flared, his eyes filling with suppressed rage.  It would have been quite funny if it wasn’t directed at me.  As it was, it took all of my willpower not to squirm under his death glare as I waited for the bomb to drop.  Any minute now he’d start yelling himself hoarse, calling me all sorts of names.
A ripping sound tore through the class, surprising me.  I gaped at him, watching as he tore the pages from my book.  Well, I hadn’t expected that.
“You will copy down the work I give you,” he said, reinforcing each word by tearing out a page.  “Anything not in my lectures will not be allowed in this book.  One more indiscretion from you and I’ll report you to the Headmaster.  Do we understand each other, Miss Duke?”
He dumped the remainder of my notebook onto my desk, the torn pages fluttering to the floor.  My mouth hung open in shock.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you,” he said when I failed to answer.
I briefly toyed with the idea of telling him where to shove it, but being a senior, and not wanting to impede my chances of getting into a good college, I took the high road, nodding my head.
“Yes,” I said through clenched teeth.
His smile was the smile of a man who had come out of a battle the victor.  I twitched with the urge to reach up and smack it from his face.
“Good.  Then you won’t mind bringing me your work at the end of every week.  Just to make sure.”

“Yeah, right,” I mumbled to myself now, throwing the book back into my locker.  He could check my notebook all he wanted.  If I wasn’t allowed to write Mel’s notes down, then it was going to be a very blank book.  Because I definitely wasn’t going to waste time writing down stuff I‘d never come to use.  It was like asking a math student to write down two plus two equals five and have them believe it too.
I emptied the rest of my bag, swapping out my morning class books for the ones I’d need this afternoon.  As I picked up my World History notebook, it flipped open to the page I’d dedicated to the case study for our joint assignment.  Nervous butterflies flapped in my stomach as I thought about my upcoming study date with Tyson.  He’d been less than happy, but had agreed to meet me at the City Public Library on Sunday.  Now all I could do was pray that he showed up in a reasonably good mood and gave me the answers I needed so I could be done with it.  But what was I going to tell him?  The thought of revealing all, of telling him that my parents were dead, leaving me with a brother who was absent more than he was around, made my stomach turn to ice.  Add the fact that both my parents had been single children, and both sets of their parents had died before Riley could walk, and I was pretty scarce for family. 
Choosing to think about it later, I shoved the book into my bag.  I was supposed to meet Courtney for lunch, and if I was any later she’d probably come looking for me.  I slammed my locker shut and gave a startled squawk.
Leaning casually on the locker beside mine was none other than Aidan.  Cripes, how long had he been standing there?  I shivered as the word stalker came to mind.  He was definitely starting to act like a creeper.  His black hair was slicked back as usual, his pale green eyes giving me the once over.  If the appreciative smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth was anything to go by, he liked what he saw.
“Hey, Noah.”
I instinctively took a step back, out of grabbing range.
“I’m not in the mood, Aidan.  What do you want?”  My tone was flat, blunt. 
Annoyance flickered in his eyes before he masked it with an indulgent smile.
“Just thought I’d return this to you.”  He pulled something from his back pocket.  It was the red leather wallet I’d left in his car the night he’d dropped me off at the E.R.  Why he had the sudden urge to return it now, months later was anyone’s guess.  I’d already gone out and replaced it, the only things I kept in my wallet being cash and my student ID.  A new ID had cost me five bucks and the cash itself wasn’t really an issue.
“Gee, thanks.”  I reached out to take it from him but he snapped it out of my reach at the last second.
“Not so fast,” he said, his indulgent smile becoming something more sinister.  “Lets talk for a minute.”
Of course.  There was always an ulterior motive with Aidan.  I sighed wearily.  Did nothing penetrate that thick skull of his?  Seriously, I think I’d have more luck talking to a brick wall.  Maybe I’d try it and tell the brick wall to relay the message to him.  It couldn’t hurt.
“Aidan, how many times do I have to tell you, I have nothing left to say to you.”
“Then you can shut up and listen.”
I raised my eyebrows at his tone, taking another half step back.  “If you’re trying to get me back, this isn’t the way to go about it.”  Not that there was any way to go about it, because I’d rather poke needles in my eyes than get involved with him again.
He gave an impatient sigh, followed by a patronising glare.
“Look, I said I was sorry about pushing you.  Why can’t you let it go already?  It was just a small accident.”
I snorted in disbelief, folding my arms over my chest.  “That ‘small’ accident landed me in the E.R. while your a*s ended up God knows where.  But I can tell you it wasn’t with me when I needed a ride home.  Hell, I had to get a lift with Tyson, who at the time was a complete stranger.”
His face clouded in anger.  “Tyson?” he asked, his voice little more than a growl.  “What were you doing with him?  How the hell did you know him back then?” 
I bristled at the possessive note in his voice.  This guy had no claim on me, and after all the nonsense he’d put me through it was more than a little offensive that he thought otherwise.
“Do you not listen to anything I say?  I said he was a complete stranger.  He just happened to be there.”
Anger flashed in his eyes.  “Liar,” he spat.  “How do you explain landing him as your partner in World History?  You two seemed awful chummy for complete strangers.  He even turned Serena down for you.”
I stamped my foot, frustrated as hell.  It was like explaining to a one year old that the square block wouldn’t fit into the circle hole.  So simple, yet something the one year old just couldn’t grasp.
“You were in the class,” I said, projecting a calm I wasn’t sure I possessed.  “You saw him enter, and saw him get paired with me.  I had nothing to do with - you know what?  Why am I even explaining this to you.  It’s none of your business.  Just like anything I do from hereon out is none of your business.”
He opened his mouth to snap at me, the expression on his face livid.  By some small miracle he thought better of it, huffing in frustration instead.
“I’m sorry,” he said through gritted teeth, not sounding sorry in the least.  The smile on his face was so forced it resembled something more of a grimace.  “We’re getting off track.  Why don’t we just forget that little incident ever happened and try again?” he asked with the air of a guy who usually gets what he wants.  Too bad for him, I was about to disappoint.
“You’re on crack if you think I’m just going to forget what you did to me.  Ten stitches Aidan!  A scar the length of my hand!”  I thrust said hand into his face, showing him the results of his jealous rage.
His eyes flicked briefly to the angry red line before darting away.  Gee, at least pretend to be remorseful, jackass.
“I said I was sorry,” he repeated as if he‘d read my mind.  But like the hundred or so other apologies I’d received from him in the last couple of months, this one was just as empty.
“Whatever,” I said, eager to leave.  The halls around us were deserting fast, students hurrying to catch the last half of lunch.  I did not want to end up alone with him.  Something told me it wouldn‘t be good for my physical health.  “Now, can I have my wallet back?”
His fingers tightened visibly, the flimsy material bending under his grip.  Oh, for Gods sake, it just wasn’t worth the hassle.  He could have it as a souvenir for all I cared.
“You know what?  Just keep it and we’ll call it even.”
It was then that I made a big mistake.  I turned my back on him to walk away.  An ironclad grip circled my upper arm.  Stupid, Noah, very stupid, I chastised myself.  It tightened painfully as he yanked me back so we were almost nose to nose. A sliver of fear shot up my spine when I looked into his eyes.  It was the same look he’d had right before he’d pushed me.
“I‘m not finished,” he hissed through clenched teeth.  “So stop walking away from me.” 
I narrowed my eyes at him.  A common reaction with me was that reckless anger usually replaced fear.
“I don’t care,” I said, my voice rising steadily.  “I was finished the night you pushed me through one of the windows at the hardware store.”
“You were flirting with the sales assistant,” he said incredulously.  “Yes, I may have gone overboard, but the anger was warranted.”
“I was asking where the duct tape was.  You make it sound like I was offering to tie him to my bed and get freaky with him!”
“Horseshit,” he spat, his grip tightening as his anger rose.  A tingling sensation began in the tips of my fingers, a sure sign that my arm was starting to go numb.  Though I could still feel the sharp little shooting pains that started where his hand was cutting off my circulation.  He let out a sound of frustration and shook me by the arm violently.
“Ouch!” I cried, using my free hand to try and break his grip.  It was no use.  I looked around for someone.  F*****g craptastic.  The halls were deserted.  The very thing I didn’t want to happen had just happened.
“Let go of me,” I said, twisting my arm to no avail.
He shook me once more.  “I’ll let go of you when I feel like it,” he growled, squeezing painfully.  I let out a hiss of pain against my will.  He seemed to enjoy it.
“What do you want from me Aidan?” I asked quietly.
“I want you back,” he said as if it were obvious.
I raised my eyebrows.  “Why?  You were a lousy boyfriend.  You only bothered to make plans with me when it suited you.  You were always jealous, when there was nothing to be jealous of.  You never trusted me.”  I paused, looking up into his eyes before delivering the final blow.  “I know you cheated on me.”  Granted I’d only found out a few days before school had started thanks to Courtney’s older sister Cherie.  One of Cherie’s friends was the older sister of the girl he’d screwed.  Such a small world we lived in.  I hadn’t planned on bringing this up, was willing to let sleeping dogs lie.  But if he was going to harass me like this, he didn’t leave me much choice.
His eyes widened at my accusation.
“I did not!”
“Don’t think I didn’t know why you never answered your phone when I needed a ride.  You turned it off because you didn’t want me interrupting your side trip to some girls house.”
“How did you find that out?” he asked, his body stock still.
Suddenly, I was very tired.  “It doesn’t matter.” 
“We were broken up.  You -”
“I dumped you after you were a no show, remember?” I said, cutting him off.  “So technically, we were still dating.  Not that I care.  You can do whatever you want.  Whoever you want.  So long as you know it’ll never be me.”
He laughed, an ugly sound devoid of humour.  “So that’s it?  You’re done.  Nothing I say will convince you otherwise?”
I shook my head, hoping he’d finally gotten the hint.  Hell, maybe if I’d just had it out with him to begin with, he would’ve left me alone a lot sooner.
He let go of my arm, causing pins and needles to flood it.  I could actually feel the rush of blood flow through to my fingertips and winced against the shooting pains that accompanied it.
“Well, that’s just too bad,” he said, an evil smile playing about his lips.
What on earth did that mean?  I rubbed the spot he’d grabbed, gently massaging the tender flesh.
“You’re going to regret this, Noah.”  He pointed a finger at me threateningly and began walking away backwards.
“What?” I said, perplexed.
“Serena’s pranks will look like child’s play compared to what I can do.  Tell your new boyfriend Tyson to watch is back as well.”
My eyes almost bugged out of my head.  “You’re going to punish me for rejecting you!?” I asked incredulously.  “And what does Tyson have to do with any of this?”
He didn’t answer, instead turning on his heel and walking away.
I slumped against my locker, my legs suddenly shaky.  Jesus Christ, what had I done to deserve this?  First Serena, then my economics teacher, and now my insane ex.  I was just wracking up enemies.  Not only that, but it seemed I’d somehow gotten Tyson involved as well.  Though how on earth that happened was the million dollar question.
Feeling rotten, and somewhat frightened of facing Aidan last period, I swung my bag over my shoulder and made for the front doors.  I definitely needed to get out of here.  I sent Courtney a quick text telling her I didn’t feel well and would catch up with her later before jumping into my truck and heading home.

Reviews

[life*of*equiluxe]

I am so glad that she is standing up to Aiden, even though she doesn't retaliate when Serena pulls her stupid pranks. It is a nice balance, and I think it shows some maturity in her character. Though I also think Tyson is right, and she shouldn't let Serena walk all over her. If she can stand up to Aiden, then that should cause her realize that she needs to do the same with Serena (and it seems like something that Tyson would point out!).
I think that Riley should find out about the economics class/ Mr Phelps and go behind her back to confront him! Seems like something Riley would do. Also, we call the headmaster the principal. Good chapter! I could really feel her frustration and fear.

[Thomas Fitzgerald]

I dont know, i kind of like Aiden, he reminds me of those characters that almost certainly turn out for the better in the end, maybe after a harsh life lesson, great read, well done.