Start a Revolution

When Drew returned home after the pizza place, her parents were back home, the car parked in the driveway. She hitched Mitch higher up on her hip, bumping the front door open.

"How was your night out?" the young girl asks calmly, setting Mitch down on the couch.

Her dad looks up from his spot in the recliner, his reading glasses perched on his nose. She could hear her mother bustling around upstairs, the sounds of her footsteps muffled against the carpet. Her father folds his newspaper, plopping on the ground beside him.

"It was all right," he answers, rubbing his hands together. "Where did you take your brother?" Her dad head nods to Mitch, who was making airplane noises.

"To get some pizza at Casanova Brothers." She omits the meeting up with John part.

Her dad nods, his eyes drooping. That's when Drew noticed just how exhausted her father really looked. He had deep pockets under his eyes and his skin looked like it was stretched over the bones protruding from his face. She didn't understand why, but he didn't look nearly as healthy as he did a few years ago.

"Well, I'm heading off to bed," she murmurs, walking over to her dad. "Don't forget to put Mitch down too." She gives her father a light kiss on the forehead, feeling sick to her stomach to see him like this.

Drew escapes to upstairs, pausing for only a moment to glance at her parent's bedroom.

Once inside of her own room, she changes into sweatpants and an old Corona game shirt, booting up her laptop to get started on a paper that was due in English. And as she waited for it to start whirring, she absentmindedly wanders over to her window.

She had a pretty decent view of the neighborhood, seeing as she lived on the top floor of the house. And across the way, past the park and the public pool, she saw the shadow of the O'Callaghan's house. It was fairly large, painted a tan color with a sturdy roof. They were one of the lucky patrons to have a pool in their backyard and a small white gazebo sat off to the side, shining from the way the moonlight hit the water.

Something stirred in her stomach. The familiar feeling of hatrid.

But why? Why should she hate the O'Callaghan family when she had nothing to do with why the groups feud? And judging by the way John reacted to Kennedy's question tonight, he surely knew a little something about why they hate each other.

But why do they hate each other? What could have possibly happened for the Hemingway's and the O'Callaghan's to fight this way?

Drew didn't ponder on it too much, a headache having formed at the back of her head.



The next morning was a drag. Drew overslept and had no time for breakfast, let alone a shower. So she just pinned her back in a ponytail, unsatisfied with how she looked. She made sure to put on an extra layer of deodorant before bustling out the door.

She was only a few seconds late to first hour English, and luckily, Mr. Bobbet wasn't even in the classroom, so she slipped in undetected.

But she still caught the sly smirk John O'Callaghan sent her way.

Mr. Bobbet walked into the class a few moments later, Drew breathing in deeply, glad she had made it when she did. She's never been late to a class before, and she surely didn't want to start now. She barely payed attention as she teacher started taking roll, passing a few notes with Lisa, who wouldn't stop gushing about Kennedy.

"Now, class, let's get down to business," Bobbet announces, clearing his throat. Everyone stopped talking and looked over at him, scared of what was to come.

Drew bites her bottom lip. If it was a pop quiz, she was screwed.

"You will be starting a project today," their teacher rolls on, pulling out a sheet of paper from under his book. "A project on Romeo and Juliet." He lets his students groan before continuing. "You will be in partners. You are to create a presentation, you must be creative, on what you think drove a certain character to their fate."

The Hemingway girl groans softly. She hated Bobbet's projects. Last semester, he gave her a D on the last project she did, so she prayed to the God above that her English teacher would supply her a smart partner.

"Here are the partners," Mr. Bobbet says loudly, and everyone leans forward.

It was like the classroom took a collective inhale.

"Sarah Gong and Jeffrey Quincey," he starts, checking each name with a pencil one pairing them off. "Lisa McCintire and George Frankler." Drew heard her friend make a disgusted noise beside her. She giggles gently. "Yvette Long and Louis Ickens. Drew Hemingway and John O'Callaghan."

The younger girl's mouth drops open.

The fuck?

What is up with the universe lately? First, she gets her locker vandalized. Which, by the way, the word SLUT still won't come off. And then, she is being forced to work with her sworn enemy at Toybox. And now, she was paired off with him for a project she couldn't afford to get a bad grade on?

"Mr. Bobbet," Drew immediately speaks up, her peers looking over at her, "could I possibly switch? I just feel like it would be bett—"

"You're partner is John O'Callaghan. End of discussion."

Her mouth shuts tight, her cheeks flushing dark. She could just sense the smug smirk John had on his face behind her, and she wills herself to not turn around and give him a glare. Mr. Bobbet finished calling out partners, flicking his hand to let everyone gather and brainstorm.

Drew reluctantly peels off her seat, turning to go work with John at his table. He was smiling, his brown hair sticking up in it's normal disarray. She grimaces.

"Hello, partner," he grins, kicking the chair next to him out so she could sit.

She complies, plopping her bag down beside her. "I hate this."

"I love it," he contradicts, leaning forward and resting his head on his arms. "Gives us a chance to get to know each other, don't you think? I mean, do I really know you? Do you really know me? No. We just know each other based off of what our parents told us. It's like a breath of fresh air if you ask me."

The dark-haired girl draws her eyebrows together in confusion. "So, are you saying you want to get to know me?" He nods, looking genuine. "Why are you being so nice?" She automatically suspected foul play.

John puts his hands up in defense. "We need to stop fighting. It's unhealthy."

"I agree," Drew mutters. "But wouldn't our parents hate it for us to spend time together?"

"They'll have to get over it," the O'Callaghan boy responds. "Now our education is involved, and I don't know about you, but I need a good grade on this assignment."

"Good. At least I know you're serious."

He grins, but their was an undercurrent of a smirk under it, Drew noticed. "I'm always serious, sweet cheeks. Now what character should we do our project on? I was thinking Juliet, because she sounds like a babe."