The Worst Choice

“We’ve got three classes together!” Kat exclaimed, looking between our schedules.

“Great, now I’ll fail those classes,” I teased. Nash slowly walked back over to Kat and me, frowning at the piece of paper in his hand. “What’s wrong?”

“They gave me all the teachers I had last time I was here,” he said in distaste.

“They’re bad?”

He shrugged. “They didn’t like me,” he said.

I laughed. “You’re probably every teacher’s worst nightmare,” I said, looking at his schedule before frowning. “We don’t have any classes together.”

He intertwined his fingers with mine. “Well at least we have lunch together,” he said.

I grinned. “Yeah,” I said.

“Hello! Lonely, single friend here!” Kat said. “No need to rub it in!”

I laughed, before stopping abruptly. In line to get his schedule, was Colin. He was looking at me with a weird glint in his eye and a smirk on his face, although Leah seemed to be completely oblivious as she held onto his arm, talking animatedly to him.

Shivering slightly, I broke the gaze. I still couldn’t believe he’d lied to me. “Something wrong?” Nash asked with confusion.

I shook my head slowly. “No, everything’s fine,” I said.

He looked like he was about to say something, but the PA system cut him off. “Will Nash Carter please come to the front office? Nash Carter, to the office.”

I saw a couple people look around, before looking at Nash in shock. I’m sure more than a few people have heard of Nash and his reputation, so this didn’t really surprise me.

“What’d you do?” Kat asked him.

He shrugged, looking slightly annoyed. “Guess I’m about to find out,” he said. He gave me a quick kiss on the lips. “I’ll see you at lunch.”

“What do you think he’s going up there for?” Kat asked me once he left.

I shrugged. “Probably about him having to do good this year,” I said. “Anyway, let’s go find Jenn and Taylor.”

Nash.

I swear to god, if the damn office starts this again…

I walked up to the secretary’s desk. “Nash Carter,” I said once she noticed me.

“Nash…” she mumbled to herself, looking through papers. “Ah, principals office. Mrs. Brown wants to see you.

I scoffed, shaking my head. She really was going to start this again. I walked down the all-too-familiar hallways, coming to a stop at Mrs. Brown’s office. I leaned against the doorframe, looking at her through slightly narrow eyes. “Not even half an hour and you already called me down,” I said, causing her eyes to move away from the computer screen. “Really, I’m flattered and all, but you should know that I have a girlfriend. These constant meetings just cannot go on again.”

She set her lips in a straight line. “Glad to see you haven’t changed much, Mr. Carter. Although I really do hope you’re more serious about your education this time,” she said. “Please, have a seat.” I shrugged out of the book bag, setting it on the ground as I slouched into one of the chairs across from her desk. “You must understand that it is a privilege to be back in school for you. A privilege not often given.”

“And I feel incredibly lucky for that, Mrs. B. Really, I kiss the ground of these hallways,” I told her.

She sighed, choosing to ignore my comment as she went on. “Which means that you have to keep good grades, not get into fights, actually show up to school…” she said.

“And I intend on doing just that.”

“I do understand that sometimes students have legitimate reasons for not attending school.” Oh here we go. “For example, if they’re too sick or too injured to come…”

“You have a fantastic point, but I don’t see where this involves me,” I told her, putting my elbow on my knee and resting my chin on my hand as I stared at her boredly.

“Nash, even though you’re 18, things can still be done if somebody at your house is hurting you,” she said. Ah, finally to the point.

“We went over this last year, and nothing has changed since then. Nobody at my house hurting me,” I told her. “You seem to have some freaky obsession with the thought of somebody hurting me. It’s weird.”

Exasperation flashed through her eyes. Good, I wanted her off my back about this. Last year, she did the same thing before I dropped out. I guess, unlike everybody else, she didn’t assume that my injuries were from fighting. She thought that I was getting beaten at home- which annoyed the hell out of me. Yeah, she was right, but she wouldn’t believe me, no matter how many times I’d swear that I was fine.

The bell rang, signaling that first period was starting. “See? Now you’ve made me late on my first day back to school. What a terrible impression,” I told her.

She sighed heavily. “I’ll write you a pass,” she said.

“Thanks, Mrs. B,” I said, grabbing the pass from her as I stood up. “Let’s not make these meetings happen often, yeah?”