April

  “April, can I see you after lunch?” my creative writing teacher, Mrs. Stevens, asks, her voice cutting through the noise of the cssroom. I look up, confused, and nod silently as she walks back to her desk, leaving me wondering what she wants.

  As I pack my backpack, my mind starts to race. I haven’t done anything wrong—no mean comments or loud outbursts. I keep to myself, so what could it be about? I shake my head to clear my thoughts.

  Just then, I felt a tap on my shoulder and turned to find my best friend Jane grinning at me with a mischievous look in her eyes. “I have news,” she says, clearly excited. Jane always seems to find something to smile about.

  “Oh? What kind of news?” I ask, curious but a bit cautious.

  “Blue news!” she replies with a wink. “Blue” is her nickname for Carl, the guy she thinks I like just because his name starts with ‘C.’ It’s a silly assumption, but I don’t bother correcting her.

  “At lunch,” I say, already distracted. “Just give me the details.” Jane beams and skips away, leaving me feeling a bit relieved.

  Carl isn’t a bad guy; we just don’t have that kind of connection. I’ve never really liked anyone the way Jane thinks I do. Maybe I just haven’t met the right guy yet. or maybe… I push those thoughts aside as I wait for the bell, ready for the familiar buzz of lunchtime.

  The bell rings, cutting through my thoughts. I jump up, deliberately walking slowly to my locker to avoid going to lunch. My thoughts keep drifting to what Mrs. Stevens might want to talk to me about, obsessing over everything I’ve done or said over the past few weeks. I can’t recall doing anything bad or breaking any school rules, but I do have a bad memory. I shrug and set my stuff in my locker, grabbing my lunch card.

  As I walk to the lunch room, I knock into another person. “Oh, I’m so sorry!” I say immediately as I kneel to pick up the books that they dropped. I hear a noncommital hum and look up to see a girl that I’ve never really talked to before. I stand up and hand

  her books back. “I’m April. I don’t think we’ve met.” I smile sweetly and hold out a hand for her to shake. She eyes it and just walks away. I blink, shocked. Okay then…

  I decide to brush it off and just go to lunch. Lunch passes by in a blur, Jane chatting endlessly about ‘Blue’ to me, throwing in little winks and inuendos, determined to get me to admit I have on him, even though I don’t. I don’t respond to her teasing, zoning out, my mind stuck on the interaction a few minutes earlier. I wonder what her problem was….. I muse.

  The sharp ring of the bell cuts through my musing as I realize lunch is over and I have to go talk to Mrs. Spencer now. I sigh and say goodbye to Jane, walking back to Mrs. Spencer's cssroom.

  When I arrive, the door is slightly ajar and I can hear a faint conversation happening inside. I hesitate for a second before knocking quietly on the door. I clear my throat, waiting for Mrs. Spencer to notice. “Mrs. Spencer, you wanted to see me?” I say quietly, just loud enough to cut through her conversation.

  I can’t figure out who she’s talking to, but I don’t have to. As soon as Mrs. Spencer notices me, her face lights up, catching me off guard. “April! Come in, please.” If I’m in trouble, why is she so happy to see me?.... The person she’s talking to turns around with a gre, and I’m shocked to see it’s the girl that I ran into earlier.

  I look at her curiously before turning to Mrs. Spencer. “May I ask why you needed to speak to me, miss?” I sneak a gnce at the girl only to see her gring at me with her arms crossed. My throat goes dry within a second and I swallow, forcing myself to look back at Mrs. Spencer.

  She looks between us amused before speaking up. “April, please take a seat.” I blink, confused, but comply with her request, sitting down in the chair next to the girl, across from Mrs. Spencer. She nods. “As I told Charlotte here-”

  The girl, Charlotte, cuts Mrs. Spencer off. “Charlie. I refuse to go by Charlotte.”

  “Right. My apologies,” Mrs. Spencer responds. “As I told Charlie here, you’re very smart. I believe you may even be able to overtake Charlie as top of the css. Which, nobody else has ever been able to do. It’s a great accomplishment. However, I have an issue. Starting your Junior year, I am only able to teach ONE period of creative writing due to budget cuts. Now, I know that usually girls who share the same level of

  intelligence will either talk a lot during css or will not work at all. I just wanted to let you two know that will not be tolerated during css.” Charlie and I just look at each other.

  “That won’t be an issue,” Charlie responds.

  “Yeah, I have a feeling we won’t talk,” I mutter at the same time. Why is it even important who the top of the css is? It’s a creative writing css, it’s purely optional, and I doubt we’re competing for a schorship…or are we?

  Mrs. Spencer nods, not noticing the obvious tension between us. “Good. You two are dismissed.”

  We both stand up and leave, her leaving the room before me. We walk in silence, neither of us breaking it. Suddenly, she stops in front of an alcove and shoves me in, locking the door behind us. “Apparently, you’re smarter than you look,” she says, looking me up and down with a sneer, not bothering to hide her distaste for me. “It seems you’ve managed to catch up to me in terms of intelligence. I am the top of the css, always have been, and always will be,” she takes a step forward, towering over me. She’s so close now I can feel her breath on my face. I fight the urge to step back, to avoid her gaze, but I hold my ground. She’s not getting the best of me. Not now, not ever. “I don’t know if you’re cheating, I don’t care. I don’t care if you turn out to be a genius. All I care about is that you don’t threaten my position. So, just fail a few homework assignments, and we won’t have an issue, capisce?” She gres at me and unlocks the door, walking away.

  “Guess we’re gonna have an issue here then, Charlie. Because I’m not gonna fail any homework assignments, just so a stuck-up blondie can keep her pce at the top of the css.” I call after her, gring daggers at her back. For a moment, my gaze slips to her hips, which are swaying with each step, almost like a taunt. My mouth goes dry and I have to swallow and force myself to look away. I shouldn’t have said that…but I couldn’t stop myself. The way she looked at me, dismissed me…it made my blood boil in ways I never thought possible. I couldn’t resist challenging her…I refuse to be beaten into submission. Especially by her.