Said & Done.

I wanted to punch him.

Those were the only coherent thoughts I could think from my seat behind John O’Callaghan, my eyes straining as I continued to stare at the test sitting on the edge of his desk, the bold red capital letter A on the corner of the crisp white paper lighting a fire behind my eyes. How had he gotten an A? I looked down at my own test sullenly, the corner of the packet folded over the large letter D I had seen there. I wanted to slam my head against my desk, but not more than how much I really, really wanted to punch John O’Callaghan.

The bell rang and I slowly rose from my seat, picking up my books and cradling them in one arm as I made my way past Mr. Carter’s desk. He stopped me just as I was about to set foot out the door, my name falling from his lips in a disappointed tone I had usually only ever heard directed at John and his gang of idiots. I sighed as I backtracked, biting my lip as I peered over the tops of my glasses at my teacher.

He was old, like, really old. His wrinkles had wrinkles and the grey, scratchy looking moustache sitting above his lip had earned him the nickname Mr. Walrus behind his back. Two guesses as to who made that up.

“I've been very surprised by your work ethic lately,” he scolded, propping his elbows up on his desk and linking his fingers together. He stared at me, a look on his face that I could only describe as “I know you can do better.”

“Just because there is less than three months left of your senior year, doesn’t give you the right to start slacking off in my class. You’ve always been my best student, but it seems even Mr. O’Callaghan is starting to get ahead,” he went on. My eyes instantly narrowed at the mention of John, a scoff escaping my mouth before I could stop it. Walrus’ eyes narrowed. “In fact, maybe you should ask him for help. It’s clear,” he unlinked his fingers just so he could point one accusingly at the test resting on top of the book in my hands, “ that you aren’t getting the material, and seeing as John was the only one to get an A on that test, I fail to see any harm that could come of it.”

I didn’t have it in me to tell Mr. Walrus that “the harm that could come of it” would directly be related to John’s face if we were to have to sit through a tutoring session together, so rather than speak my mind I told him I would think about it, before exiting the class. By the time I reached my locker and grabbed out the appropriate books for my next class, the passing time bell had already rung and I had to practically run to the English class on the third floor.

I knocked on the door, cringing at the look on Miss Mallory’s face as she opened the barrier between us.

“Nice of you to finally join us,” she drawled, her monotone voice being joined by the sound of John’s snickering from the corner of the room. I glared at him, rolling my eyes as I took my seat three away from him.

This was going to be a long day.



I left school that day with three papers to write, calculus homework I didn’t even know how to do, and ballet practice I didn’t even want to attend in an hour. So naturally the last thing I wanted was to see John O’Callaghan and Kennedy Brock leaning against my red jeep wrangler. I groaned to myself as I walked the remaining distance between myself and my car, deliberately casting my eyes anywhere but at the two boys on the other side of my vehicle. I pressed the button to unlock the doors, throwing my backpack in the back row of seats and setting my purse down in the passenger seat before finally facing them.

“To what do I owe this pleasure?” I asked, sarcasm practically dripping from my words as I glared at them, but mostly John. I didn’t really have a problem with Kennedy; he had always been nice, sweet even. I guess you could say my only problem with him was the fact that he hung around John. I saw Kenny smile at me, and I smiled back a little before making my face serious again.

“Lighten up Rory, I just wanted to talk to you about that calculus Walrus said you should get help with,” John said. He sounded so sincere, something that never failed to tick me off. Didn’t he know I hated his guts? I rolled my eyes at him, crossing my arms over my chest.

“Were you eavesdropping on my conversation with him? Because that is a huge invasion of privacy John,” I snapped, not even trying to conceal my anger. It wasn’t a big deal really, but when it came to John, everything was a big deal. He rolled his eyes just as I had before and his eyes narrowed a bit. I could tell I was getting to him, even if it was only a little.

“I’m just trying to be nice, you could benefit from trying to do so as well. We live next door to each other, and I don’t know when we went from friends to enemies, but I'm sure even your over-achieving self could get over your pride long enough to admit you need help. Who cares who it’s from?”

I cared who it was from, and he knew I did. It had been this way for the past five years. I cared entirely too much about what John thought and what he was doing and how good or bad his grades were and he continuously went on not caring about me or anything involving me at all, unless he was trying to help of course. John Cornelius O’Callaghan, my savior. I sneered at the thought.

Shaking my head I looked to Kenny, a small smile coming to my lips at the blush on his cheeks due to mine and John’s heated discussion. I had always gotten the impression that Kennedy wasn’t much for confrontation.

“Why don’t you save us both the trouble and stop pretending to care John? All your ‘I’m the good guy’ acts are starting to get old, the least you could do is change it up a bit,” I said, pretending to be bored as I looked at the watch on my skinny wrist. Great, he had already wasted fifteen minutes of my time, leaving me less time to relax before practice.

“We both know I'm not the one acting here Rowan.” I didn’t have to look up to know there would be a frown on his face or to know how angry he was. It didn’t matter how many insults or snide remarks I threw at him, he still never called me Rowan unless I had really struck a nerve.

I avoided his gaze as I climbed into my jeep, putting the key in the ignition and not looking back as I drove away. It wasn’t the first time I had turned my back on John O’Callaghan, and it wouldn’t be the last.