Tempted

Mornings were killers.

At least for me, they were.

It took four alarms to go off and usually my mother yelling up the stairs to get me up and moving on school days - and even then I was on autopilot through my whole shower, blow dry and style routine that often didn’t exceed anything other than a sloppy ponytail. Although I was doing the functions I needed to prepare for public high school, that didn’t necessarily mean that I was “awake”.

Coffee – more specifically caffeine – was my saving grace, the only reason I was able to participate in early morning classes and the only way that I could convince myself that going to school was beneficial due to the fact that the cheap gas station coffee I drank was conveniently placed along the path I drove each weekday morning.

Until that burst of sugar kicked in though, I was useless. Talking, shameless gossip sharing activities and people asking me for help on their homework was out of the question for abilities I had before eight AM, and all of my friends knew it.

So when I walked in from the parking lot to see Arianna leaning against my locker, just anxiously waiting to tell me important news, I was a little surprised.

But even then, I should have guessed that what was important to Arianna Fischer was seldom – if ever – truly important to me.

On any other day, I would have at least pretended to be interested in what my best friend had to say, but my caffeine hadn’t kicked in yet, I was running slightly behind schedule, some asshole with a red Audi had stolen my parking lot, and, to top my morning off, I had an in class essay to write on Othello - the one play that I hadn’t actually read yet.

So with one ear trying to tune out Jessie Ascher talking with her friend about how good of a lay Jordan Brians was, and the other only half-listening to Arianna gush about something similar, only with adoration in her eyes as she spoke about Jack Barakat, I worked on getting my lock combination right.

“I really, really like this one, Copeland,” she was saying when the latch finally gave and I was able to get the books I needed from the metal deathtrap that was my locker.

“Really?” I’d heard her say it too many times before for me to be able to whole heartedly believe her. Arianna was a girl who “liked” and “loved” too many before for me to be able to automatically get excited for her.

Taking a sip of my cappuccino, I spared a second to glance over to her. Bleach blond hair hung past her shoulders in what easily could have been perfectly wind tossed waves. Pink, lightly glossed lips were tugged upward into a smile as they usually were, and she was dressed in a very fashionable floral print button up that she’d tucked into denim cutoffs that were just a little too short for our school’s dress code – not that anyone would stop her.

The teachers we encountered on a day-to-day basis were simply lazy. Unless some kid was walking around with a shirt that said, “Fuck Off” or bras were peeking out of the top of shirts, no one said anything about inappropriate attire.

“He’s so funny! I know you’d love him if you actually talked to him,” she continued, shifting her backpack as it dangled off of her right shoulder.

I raised a single eyebrow in her direction, taking one last drink of my coffee before fishing out my AP psych book and tucking my car keys away. Allowing my backpack to smash to the tiled flooring below, I fiddled with the purple paperclip I’d used to replace the tiny pull tab until the zipper gave way.

Jack Barakat was obnoxious, I concluded. If Arianna thought he was funny, that meant that his humor was of the bad sort.

“I’m sure I would,” I mumbled, taking out the heavy Pre-Calculus book that had become my enemy since I’d scrawled my name inside in glittery blue ink.

With a dramatic sigh, Arianna leaned against the locker beside mine, almost posing, as she thought about what I could only assume to be Jack Barakat.

That was one of the many quirks about the Fischer girl – she always looked camera ready. Probably due to the fact that since she’d turned twelve, she’d been a commercial model for local businesses in the area. Mostly she did cheesy advertisements that aired between daytime soap operas, but with her mother’s professional photo business, she’d done plenty of print and catalog modeling too.

“You have to meet him, Copeland, you just have to. He’s so… different. But, like, in the good way.”

I rolled my eyes, officially tuning out the rest of the conversation as I prepared myself for the first three classes of my day as best as I could.

Without reading the assigned acts, I was basically screwed when it came to English, but I’d studied the vocabulary that my psychology teacher had assigned and – miraculously – finished the lab report that was needed in my chemistry class.

With a tiny shove, the flimsy door of my locker was shut and I was walking toward Mrs. Kohler’s classroom.

Unlike Arianna, who would cut corners when it came to school as much as she possibly could, I was influenced by my mother to take as many advanced and college credit classes I could to prepare for my future. Of course, what actually laid in my future was unclear.

College, in my mind, wasn’t appealing.

Maybe if I had a clue as to what I wanted to do with my life, I would be more motivated, but I didn’t know what I wanted to do or who I wanted to be. Regardless, to get my mother off of my back, and knowing that she was willing to pay for a few classes that I would be forced to take if I did decide that college was for me, I couldn’t deny my mother the opportunity.

Anything to keep her involved in my education that didn’t mean chaperoning school dances.

Don’t get me wrong, I loved the woman and seldom was embarrassed by her, but it was awkward having to watch your mother break up your best friend and her date for dancing in a too racy manner.

Arianna walked beside me, her blue eyes trained on my frowning face, as I headed toward the English wing. “Someone hasn’t finished their coffee yet,” she sang lightly, falling dramatically over my shoulder as she toddled along.

Scowling, I fiddled with the Styrofoam cup in my hand before opening my mouth. “I have an essay to write, so I’m going to Sparknotes my book quick. I’ll see you at lunch?”

“As always, best friend,” Arianna said, smiling brightly at me one last time before we parted ways, me to class and her to more than likely track down her latest boy toy.