Status: Updates Weekly
Bottled Blue
Six
The next day, Jett was waiting for me in Biology. He was sitting there with his arms crossed on the desk, grinning like a Cheshire cat. I reluctantly took the seat next to him. He was quiet, but I knew it wasn’t going to last long. He was tapping his fingers along the wood grains, anxiously waiting for the right moment to humiliate me. So I took my time getting my notebook out and preparing for the lesson.
“So,” he said slowly. I leaned on my elbow and sighed. Here it comes. “Sorry I left yesterday. You passed out. And uh—sorry for making you upset. I didn’t realize I was being a dick. I crossed a line. I’m really sorry about it.” I glanced at him, but he wasn’t looking at me. He seemed genuinely sincere. I didn’t trust it. So I said nothing until he looked up at me, wide blue-green eyes all innocent and cute. “So you’re giving me the silent treatment.”
“I’m not giving you the silent treatment. I’m just ignoring you.”
“Doesn’t look like that worked out for you then.” I sighed and shut my eyes. Just one hour and I could be free of him. For a little while, at least. Until he came to bug me about homework again. “So I read your book. Parts of it anyway. I thought it was interesting.”
“Pervert,” I muttered. He looked back at me, and this time it was easy to see the puzzled look on his face was 100% genuine.
“What are you talking about?”
“You read my book.” It took a moment to click before he broke out in another grin.
“I was actually talking about your astronomy book.” He pulled his notebook out of his backpack with a sly “Pervert” added. It was only the second day of the new semester, and I was seriously reconsidering my decision to hold off on graduating.
Our teacher was busy typing away at his computer until the bell rang. He stood up, and the room went silent, watching him approach the lectern at the front of the class. He stood there, silently looking us over as if we were all a bunch of degenerates, and he was disappointed in us.
“How was the assignment?” he asked. There were some grunts and half-assed answers and groans, but no one gave any honest answer. He smiled to himself as if this was the same answer he’d been getting all day. “I figured you’d feel that way. I know most of you didn’t even bother to do it. But that was just the warmup. For the duration of this semester, we’re going to be keeping a science journal. You and your partner will trade of writing the journal entries every day. This week we’re focusing on the planets and their relation to the days of the week.”
“We did this in fifth grade,” someone said. He smiled again.
“I know. This is a science journal. Your entries won’t always align with what we’re working on in class. Sometimes, in the field, you’ll have to go over the same research and experiments over and over. Remember, it’s not science until it’s written down. And it’s not confirmed until you can recreate it. At the end of every week, I want you to collaborate on writing an essay based on your findings. Due Monday. Tonight, I want a full detailed journal entry about the origin of the word Tuesday and its relation to the corresponding planetary body. I want one for each day of the week. On Monday, you’ll hand in your essay and get your new assignment. Understood?”
“Why is it absolutely necessary for us to do this journal entry together?” I asked. He turned his eyes to me, probably sensing my irritation by choice of partner.
“You don’t necessarily have to be in the same room while you work on your entries. But I still want some form of collaboration. Whether over the phone or IM. In-person will give you a greater understanding of the project. But if there is a reason you can’t meet outside of class, then a phone call or instant message will suffice until you can.”
“Okay.”
We brushed up on what we should have learned in the previous semester for the rest of the class. I took notes, like always, but I knew most of this stuff anyway. As the teacher went over the notes on the board, Jett leaned over to whisper at me.
“Since I wrote last night’s journal entry, it’s your turn. Why don’t you come over to my place?” I huffed and shook my head.
“First of all, you heard what he said. We don’t absolutely need to be in the same room. And second, I’m not going anywhere near your place.”
“Fine. Then I’m coming over to yours. I need to get my grades up this semester, or I won’t graduate. You heard him too, which means you heard him say in person is best. Besides—I really want to borrow that book.” I glared at him.
“The astronomy book?” I asked, but I was pretty sure he wasn’t talking about that one. He just smirked at me. And now I knew he was messing with me. I wanted to hit him.
“So,” he said slowly. I leaned on my elbow and sighed. Here it comes. “Sorry I left yesterday. You passed out. And uh—sorry for making you upset. I didn’t realize I was being a dick. I crossed a line. I’m really sorry about it.” I glanced at him, but he wasn’t looking at me. He seemed genuinely sincere. I didn’t trust it. So I said nothing until he looked up at me, wide blue-green eyes all innocent and cute. “So you’re giving me the silent treatment.”
“I’m not giving you the silent treatment. I’m just ignoring you.”
“Doesn’t look like that worked out for you then.” I sighed and shut my eyes. Just one hour and I could be free of him. For a little while, at least. Until he came to bug me about homework again. “So I read your book. Parts of it anyway. I thought it was interesting.”
“Pervert,” I muttered. He looked back at me, and this time it was easy to see the puzzled look on his face was 100% genuine.
“What are you talking about?”
“You read my book.” It took a moment to click before he broke out in another grin.
“I was actually talking about your astronomy book.” He pulled his notebook out of his backpack with a sly “Pervert” added. It was only the second day of the new semester, and I was seriously reconsidering my decision to hold off on graduating.
Our teacher was busy typing away at his computer until the bell rang. He stood up, and the room went silent, watching him approach the lectern at the front of the class. He stood there, silently looking us over as if we were all a bunch of degenerates, and he was disappointed in us.
“How was the assignment?” he asked. There were some grunts and half-assed answers and groans, but no one gave any honest answer. He smiled to himself as if this was the same answer he’d been getting all day. “I figured you’d feel that way. I know most of you didn’t even bother to do it. But that was just the warmup. For the duration of this semester, we’re going to be keeping a science journal. You and your partner will trade of writing the journal entries every day. This week we’re focusing on the planets and their relation to the days of the week.”
“We did this in fifth grade,” someone said. He smiled again.
“I know. This is a science journal. Your entries won’t always align with what we’re working on in class. Sometimes, in the field, you’ll have to go over the same research and experiments over and over. Remember, it’s not science until it’s written down. And it’s not confirmed until you can recreate it. At the end of every week, I want you to collaborate on writing an essay based on your findings. Due Monday. Tonight, I want a full detailed journal entry about the origin of the word Tuesday and its relation to the corresponding planetary body. I want one for each day of the week. On Monday, you’ll hand in your essay and get your new assignment. Understood?”
“Why is it absolutely necessary for us to do this journal entry together?” I asked. He turned his eyes to me, probably sensing my irritation by choice of partner.
“You don’t necessarily have to be in the same room while you work on your entries. But I still want some form of collaboration. Whether over the phone or IM. In-person will give you a greater understanding of the project. But if there is a reason you can’t meet outside of class, then a phone call or instant message will suffice until you can.”
“Okay.”
We brushed up on what we should have learned in the previous semester for the rest of the class. I took notes, like always, but I knew most of this stuff anyway. As the teacher went over the notes on the board, Jett leaned over to whisper at me.
“Since I wrote last night’s journal entry, it’s your turn. Why don’t you come over to my place?” I huffed and shook my head.
“First of all, you heard what he said. We don’t absolutely need to be in the same room. And second, I’m not going anywhere near your place.”
“Fine. Then I’m coming over to yours. I need to get my grades up this semester, or I won’t graduate. You heard him too, which means you heard him say in person is best. Besides—I really want to borrow that book.” I glared at him.
“The astronomy book?” I asked, but I was pretty sure he wasn’t talking about that one. He just smirked at me. And now I knew he was messing with me. I wanted to hit him.