Silver Creek-The Next Day Part Two

Azora POV-History

Today is the test in history-the one I told Valerie about just the other day for some reason. I still don’t get why. I doubt she cared, let alone studied. 

“No talking, no getting up, don’t speak until I’ve collected every test.” Ms. Thompson loves reminding us about the little things it seems. I’m putting away my pencil case, focusing on the test papers being passed out when she says something that’s new. 

“After the test, there will be a project assigned,” she separates the tests from each other, “it shall be a group assignment, which will be picked at random!” She says it like it’s a fun surprise. 

Randomized partners? That’s... inefficient . What exactly do we gain?

Murmurs fill the room, some eager, some nervous. I keep my annoyed thoughts to myself. Not that I have anyone to complain to. 

My ears fill with static and each rustle of paper feels as if far away. My hand freezes as the stack of tests are given to me to pass down the row. A group project? Is there any way I could do it myself? I’ll do extra work, extra credit- anything but forced collaboration with someone I don’t even get to pick- someone I can’t predict. 

Ms. Thompson’s sugar sweet voice comes back in, “Yes, yes. It is mandatory, lack of participation or cooperation will result in no credit.” She takes in the class’s faces before settling on mine. “I think it would do everyone some good. It’s good to be able to work with people from all walks of life.” 

I feel her words settle on my shoulders and let out a sigh. If it truly would be beneficial then I guess I could suck it up. Just for one grade. 

She tells us to begin the test and I fly through the questions, even having time to double and triple check my work before turning it in. 

I’ll kill time working on extra math problems I requested for times like this. 

~20 Minutes and Equations Later~

Ms. Thompson’s voice startles me, “Do I have every test?” Eyes scan the room. “Very well then, let’s have the “Wheel of Fate” decide who is partnered with whom.” She switches the tab on her computer to a wheel randomizer with our names, spinning it and happily calling out the names of those it picked to be partners. I wonder why she chose a spinning wheel when she could have picked herself. Maybe we could marvel at the “Wheel of Fate” as we watch it pass over our names? Either way, I feel no joy or excitement from this. 

There is no one in this class that I want to be partnered with. However, there is one person that I’m praying will NOT-
“Valerie Morris and Azora Russo!” A cheery voice calls out. 

You’re kidding. I can’t stop the sound of pure disappointment that leaves me. Of course it’s her. This has to be a joke. 

Cutting my eyes across the room to see Valerie is laying on her arms, staring out the window. She only lifts her head when she hears our names again, along with our assignment: the evolution of cars. 

Each group has to do a full presentation for the class on their assignment by the end of the month. 

Valerie? I hate to be prissy or rude, but I do not want to work with her. If I was going to be forced to work with someone I would rather it be someone competent. My grade is not my concern right now. I can always do it myself. I’d just...  rather not. She could do something useful, right? She’s not just here to skip class every day. Hopefully. She’s only been in this class about twice this week. I glance over at her again and find her already looking at me, not looking any more pleased than I feel.

The bell rings and our teacher dismisses us and I put my book away, ready to head off to my next class. However, I linger by my desk, leaning against it as I wonder if I could convince Ms. Thompson to make an exception-just this once. I’m about to ask when I hear my name being called, I turn and there she is: Valerie. My new partner. The one I didn’t ask for. Especially someone so unpredictable.

Valerie is relaxed, slouching and- Is she smiling? What is there to smile about? We’ve been assigned at random. 

She looks around the class, glancing at me, but never making eye contact as she says, “Well, that’s one way to start the morning!” Her eyes land on me, “Guess we’re partners then,” smile still easy. Is she actually okay with this? 

I lift my head up, “ I suppose we are.” I don’t have much else to say-not to her, but I’m not going to brush her off either.

“Look,” she sighs, shoving her hands in her jacket pockets, “I’m going to start with what I think you think about the situation.” She watches my face for a reaction, but I give nothing away, only waiting for her to continue. 

“I’m pretty sure you would rather do this on your own,” great start, “You definitely don’t want me as a partner since I skip class a lot and you probably want to do the whole thing yourself,” she stops, gauging my reaction. “Any of that right?” 

It’s something about the way she says it-not mad or mocking. She genuinely believes this. 

It is scarily accurate. She’s more perceptive than I gave her credit for. 

“Surprisingly,” I met her eyes, “Yes. It is. I would rather work alone on things like this and you cut class a lot..” I trail off. Where was I going with this? Finally I ask, “How is your grade in this class? Are you failing?” Blunt? Yes. Necessary? Also yes. 

She laughs. Actually laughs, “Nope. I’m passing. I just don’t like being in here all the time, it’s such a drag. And when I am in here I just sleep so I might as well go somewhere else.” She shrugs like it’s nothing. 

I can’t even imagine missing a class. The thought never crossed my mind. I adjust the strap on my bag, “Well, that’s good. That you’re still passing I mean.”

“Yeah pretty great,” she agrees, “So how are we doing this project thing?” She tilts her head down at me, waiting for an answer. 

I hadn’t gotten that far. I usually have the entire plan by now.

“Right!” I scramble, letting out a breath, “When are you free?” 

She rubs her neck as she thinks, “I have to close on Fridays,” she won’t meet my eyes, “And I open on the weekends.” Apparently she also works every day after school, as well. Interesting.

She works.. Every day? That wasn’t what I expected of her at all. I tell her we can find a workaround as we exchange numbers, heading in opposite directions. 

“That went better than I thought,” she says as we part ways, not waiting for a response. 

As strange as it is.. 

I find myself agreeing.   

Valerie’s POV- English

I rub my eyes as I hit the corner, trying to regain some energy. I can’t believe I still have 6 more classes-I’m too tired for this. At least the project thing with Azora won’t be too weird, already settled that. I think she just saw the whole thing as a problem to solve. 

And I have English of all things. I hate that class, we’re not even doing anything, just vocab. Maybe if I fly through it fast enough he’ll let me leave early? Hm. I’ll try it.

I get there right after the bell rings and take the seat farthest in the back by the window. It’s something to look at. 

Mr. Harrison goes on and on about the assignment: Vocabulary. Called it.

I would rather take a nap. I didn’t sleep until like 12AM after everything, I feel like I’m going to get eyebags from this. Whatever, let’s get this stupid vocab done so I can leave.
I zip through the words, not even learning anything from all the writing. Honestly, I do better without being told to memorize or do things a certain way. Like... just tell me? It would be much better if teachers just let me absorb their words instead of just shoving textbooks and due dates in my face.
One more word to go and I still have about 20 minutes. Ugh, this sucks. I rather work on fixing my car-I’m almost saved up for new parts. I just need this next paycheck to hit-Friday can’t come soon enough. I need new seat cushions and need to oil the hinges on my door. Stat. The groaning and creaking of it’s getting on my nerves. My eyes drift toward the window, watching the birds flying and people walking as my mind wanders.  

Maybe if Renji has or gets a ride I could stop by Gus’ Garage and see if they have anything I could use. Or maybe I could call off- 

Flashes of red ink fill my mind. The smell of liquor burns my nose. I hear the beeping of a machine. My own breathing, now shaky, stumbles in and out. 

I shake my head, forcing my breathing to steady. Nope. Can’t 

I look at the clock again. 10:20, huh? Yeah I can get out of here. 

I pack my bag up before I slide out of my desk, making my way to Mr. Harrison’s desk. I flash my list of completed vocabulary before he can even ask and I smirk as he takes in my writing scrawled across the page. 

“Think this is enough for me to go art,” I say coolly, “I have a project I need to work on.” He looks at the clock before sighing, music to my ears. We’ve done this dance many times before. 

“Fine, yes, you may go,” is all he says before he goes back to grading papers. 

I practically skip to my seat as I grab my bag and because I can’t help myself, I call over my shoulder. “Love your class, Mr. H!”

He mumbles to himself as I head to the art room. We both know there’s no project. I just hate boring classes without my friends. 

Speaking of... doesn’t a certain pink haired, sleep deprived shorty have art right now? 

Jade’s POV- Art

My sour gummies are still open at the edge of my desk, away from the paint. The smell of the oils I’m using fills my lungs, mixing with the sour sting of my candy. My favorite actually. Also I’m pretty sure that the dummy stole these, which weirder makes the sourness less bitter. I tap the brush against my chin as I think of what else I should add to my painting. 

Right now it’s a weeping, thorny rose, struggling to blossom against a dark background. It looks like it’s rotting-on purpose, obviously. It has a muted shade of purple dripping over the petals and leaves and then off into the void, or off the canvas. Or maybe it could be a puddle? Hm. I like that. A puddle it shall be.

I reach into the bag again and pop more sours into my mouth. It stings my throat, but after that it’s so sweet. Truly addicting. 

Fighting back a yawn, I dip my brush into the paint again and begin again. The depressing purple grows upon the bottom of the canvas, mixing with the gray background.

I like art, always have. I don’t have to do too much-if I really wanted to I could scribble a boring flower on a depressing field of grass with a lousy sun and I’d get full credit because art is about “expressing ourselves.” But where’s the fun in that? I like trying new things at my own pace, like, no one is making me use these oils, or make this rose so detailed. Of course, no one is making me take this class, but I’m still taking it and putting in all these details. Just because I want to. It’s weirdly freeing, in a way. 

My aunt would say it’s my ‘niche.’ Whatever that means. I’m going to take it as ‘you can escape here.’ I also like how quiet the class is this period-though some people are just sleeping or are on their phones, but that’s not the point. The point is I can listen to my own thoughts and take as much time as I want on this without loud people ruining it. 

I set my brush down again, my hand halfway in the bag of candy again when I hear a familiar voice entering. Then the hair-always the hair. 

I greet her before she’s even fully through the door. “Hey, Val.” My voice comes out softer than intended, making my face flush. Didn’t Hutch say something about that? I didn’t notice until now...

Whatever. Stop thinking about him- you don’t talk to him anymore remember? Not right now anyway. Val plops down on the desk across from mine like she just survived a war.  

She leans forward, looking at the canvas I think until I hear her hum like she just figured something out. She laughs to herself, “Okay, you have to tell me- where do you get all the candy from?” 

My brush stills. She noticed? “The store,” I deadpan, “Just like everybody else. Except my aunt gets it.” Not a total lie since my aunt does like candy, but usually it’s just chocolate. Val doesn’t need to know that. 

She nods, satisfied-for now. I already know she’s going to do that Valerie thing where she notices something, asks, gets her answer, then she won’t push, but she keeps noticing things until she figures it out. It’s like she can’t help but read people or situations. I probably frustrate her. Just a little. 

I take a step back to take in my painting as a whole, trying to find anywhere I can improve when Val hops off the desk. 

“OOOO,” she coos, “That’s awesome,” she lays an arm on my head, using me as an armrest. 

“Rude,” I push her off me and laughter rings out. “What if I used your head as my personal armrest?” I shouldn’t have asked that- I know that by her face contorting with laughter again.

She’s wheezing now, fighting for enough air to speak. “You’re too short for that and you know it!” She straightens, wiping away a tear. 

I can only allow myself to snort and shake my head at her. I’m too tired to do anything else. Then the next thing I know-the bell’s ringing. 

There goes the class I enjoy. 

Val ticks her head towards the door, “C’mon, we’ll be late for math.” 

Ugh. I hate math, but she loves it for some weird reason so I have to tease her. It’s my duty. 

“Whoa,” I gasp, “Is Valerie Morris excited? About a class?” I bring my hands to my face. “How out of character is that.” 

She rolls her eyes. “Whatever,” she blows her poofy hair from her eyes when she looks at me. “You’re just mad you’re bad at it.” 

“This is true,” I have a C in math- always have and always will because I’m not going to do anything about it. I need to figure out how to sleep at night besides calling Hutch. Which raises the question... 

Why is he always up so late anyway?

Renji- IT Class

This is one of the few classes where I don’t have Jade or Val. I’m alone, but it’s fine-this class is quiet, but not too quiet. It’s like a cozy library or a daycare during nap time. Some people whisper to each other or are reading quietly. Only a few do the typing assignments. That’s me. I don’t mind typing or coding. It’s easy for me-everything goes somewhere, you just need to figure out where. 

I also like the way the keyboard sounds-clacking and clicking with each sentence or piece of code added. Our teacher lets us do what we want, too, I could probably leave if I asked, but I don’t want to. I like it here. I think this is what an office would sound like, actually. Just people doing their work quietly and they’re really efficient. 

I also don’t have to make eye contact with people when I don’t want to either-the monitors are too big to really see around. That and I sit alone on the back row near the corner and I like that, too. 

Typing mindlessly, I think about this morning again. More specifically, that girl. What was her name? Someone swarming around her said it in the crowded hallway. Before she saw me-before she waved. My face feels warm again. I still don’t know why. 

She just looked so happy when she waved. I know she did with everyone she knew, but... she doesn’t know me-not really. Not enough to recognize me, let alone wave.

Someone coughs, loud enough for me to stop my typing. I want to do something else now. 

I push my glasses further up my nose before I switch the tab to a typing game, letting my mind wander again. This time I think about her name- what it could be at least. I’m pretty sure it started with an ‘M.’ 

Hm. Millie? No. Margaret? Not even close.  Part of me wonders why I even care. The other part is too curious-it needs to know. She really does seem nice and not like how a girl scout is. We all know they just want to sell their cookies. I’m about to give up when there’s a soft knock at the door. Like wind chimes when the wind blows past. 

A few people say ‘Hi’ to whoever’s there. Weird. They happily say it back before walking over to our teacher. I can just barely see their head over my monitor.

Wait? Is that the sunflower headband? 

I don’t know I’ve moved until I hear the wheels on my chair squeak as I crane my head up to see better. That’s the same yellow sweater. It is her! 

But what’s her- 

The girl is about to leave and am I holding my breath? She’s about to reach for the door handle when she turns to say ‘bye’ to her friends. 

The door opens with a faint creak.

I hear a gasp a few rows away, but my eyes don’t leave the doorway. I want to ask her name. Why?

“Bye, Melody!” I turn towards their voice and see them waving and I look back at the girl- Melody as she waves back to them. “Bye, Penny!” 

The door closes behind her with a quiet click. 

I  know the nice girl’s name. 

Melody. 

Melody is the one who saw me and waved this morning. Melody also apologized to me when she didn’t have to.

My face feels warm again-it almost hurts. 

Dragging my eyes from the door, I go back to my computer to turn it off before the bell. It’s only then that I see my reflection. I’m smiling. 

Melody’s POV - The Hall, Then Class

I gently close the door behind me-I hate when doors slam. It makes my heart race-in a bad way. Mrs. Rhodes has asked me to ask the teacher in the computer lab if they’d be using it later. Which, no. I need to remember they said it would be free later on so she can use it. I don’t know for what exactly since she’s a theater and home ec teacher, but whatever. 

I still can’t believe I knew so many people in that IT class was it? Penny, then someone from the soccer team and another from my science class. Well, except for that one person in the back. A brunette maybe? It was hard to tell with that monitor in the way.

Oh, well-it’s a big school after all. 

I rap on the door to Mrs. Rhodes' room before seeing that it was left a bit open. Wow, that's embarrassing. I awkwardly laugh under my breath when I lean against it to actually close it. The sounds of the sewing machine whirring and scissors cutting fabric fills my ears once more.  I head over to Mrs. Rhodes and tell her that they said the room would be available. 

She claps her hands once, excited, “That’s excellent! Thank you!” 

I tell her it was no trouble, really before I go back to my beanbag chair that the sun’s shining directly on. I go back to stitching up a ripped part of a purse I was working on. I don’t know how it ripped, but I’m not going to let it stay like that for long. I’m fixing it up for a client. This is serious business! Literally! 

I’m so focused I don’t even notice that I’m being stared at until I finish and look up to sharp eyes looking my way. Alyssa. She’s been doing this for months-ever since she started dating my ex to be specific. I still don’t know why. I’m nice to her whenever we cross paths, but I don’t talk to her in class because she doesn’t seem like she wants to talk to me. 

I look away, pretending to be busy putting the needle back in my sunflower pin cushion before I look at her again and flash her a smile, hoping for one back. Instead she glares, going back to her quilt? I think that’s what she’s been making-I haven’t been paying much attention. That’s on me. Should I ask what she’s working on? 

Alyssa stabs into another piece of her quilt with the needle. Nope. Never mind. I’ll leave her to it. I want to use the sewing machine but Ollie’s on it today. Guess I could do some leftover homework? 

I’m finishing up these stupid math equations when I feel a tap on my shoulder, making me flinch. Oh. It’s Emi. Super sweet, but super shy-I sort of adopted her two years ago when she was just a freshman. How time flies. 

She holds up a doll she made herself, “Do you think you could help me with the clothes?” Despite how much time has passed her voice is still so small. 

I smile at her, “Of course I can.” She lays out all the fabrics meant for ‘Dollie,’ she’s calling her, and starts picking out the colors while I find a dress pattern to follow. 

I talk while I sew the basis of it–she struggles with reading patterns sometimes, but she’s great at following along, which is great for me, too since I’m usually bad at explaining. I watch as she sews it all together herself and slips it over Dollie. 

“You’re good at this,” I insist on this when she shakes her head, “I’m serious! You could start making your own dolls as well as clothes for them for babies or something. Dollie’s super cute!” She looks into Dollie’s eyes, searching for the words. 

“Maybe,” she wonders aloud, “Then you and your Prince Charming can buy them for your kids?” The thought makes me burst out laughing, Prince? Charming? Kids? My eyes drift over to Alyssa again as my laughter dies down. She’s no longer looking at me, but is laughing at something on her phone. My chest tightens. Old habits, I guess. I tear my eyes away. 

 “I don’t know if a prince will fall for me but,” I trail off, thinking back to that cute boy in the hall this morning. “I’ll still buy the dolls. Even if they’re just for me,” I finish with a faint smile. 

Emi leans into me, making Dollie dance across her lap, giggling to herself. 

I sometimes feel like I already have a daughter in Emi–is that weird to say? I feel like that’s weird. Maybe not. Either way, I ruffle her hair, listening to her melodic laugh that always makes me smile. 

Hutcherson’s POV- End of School

I’m out of my seat before the bell even rings, “Thank God!” I couldn’t stand sitting any longer. It was driving me insane. My legs are too long to be forced in a row or those cramped desks. Also I’m over this school. 

I’m already in the hall, ignoring Mr. Mondrone’s droning voice trying to compete with the bell. I couldn’t care less what that man’s saying. 

I get to see Jade now. 

Discretely of course. No one can know. 

But I’m still seeing her so, yeah I’m winning. 

In all honesty-this fact was the only thing that made this boring school worth it. I light up when I see Rudy’s red hair in the swarm of students.

“Rudy!” My voice booms out and he turns to me, gray eyes sparkling.

“Hutcherson, mate!” He shoves his way to me and we clap our hands together as if we didn’t see each other earlier. “Ya looking to go to the park today or what?” 

I mentally curse at myself. That sounds good. Another day. 

I drag out a groan. “I can’t do it today-I’ve got to be home.” I’ve started talking like Rudy the more we hang out. “Maybe tomorrow?” I’d never fully shut him down, just delay as needed. 

He rubs his imaginary beard, thinking. “Right-o! That’ll do.” He looks to the ceiling as we make it to the double doors. “Tomorrow is Friday, yes?”
Oh, yeah. It is. I totally forgot. “Mhm,” I confirm as I shove the doors open, “We can stay out later tomorrow, too.” 

He lights up again, “Right again!” He checks his phone before groaning, “It’s my sis. Probably in trouble again.” His sister is always doing something she has no business doing. Wow. I sound responsible and hypocritical- we were just in a junkyard last week.

“What did she do this time?” I can’t help but wonder. She’s in elementary school but she’s gotten written up more times than I’ve gotten detention in middle school. 

He scrolls through messages on his phone, biting back a smile. “She bit someone.” He stares into my eyes. “She bit them for taking a hula loop.”

We burst out laughing, leaning into each other for support. 

“A hula loop!?” I choke out, making him laugh harder.

“Yes!” He wheezes, “It was the only pink one and some boy took it!” 

“Okay, yeah,” I say, suddenly serious, “That is a very valid reason for biting.”

He sobers, too. “Obviously justified,” he points at me, laughter sneaking into his voice again, “I’d rip at your insane hair for a pink hula any day.” 

He types back a reply.

“‘Insane hair?’” I repeat, “What about it?” I ask tugging at my dirty blonde hair. It’s washed and everything, man. Does Jade think it’s crazy? No, she would tell me, right?
Rudy finally glances up from his phone looking smug, “It’s just.. Very,” he stops, gesturing vaguely. “Very blonde.”

Is he serious? “You’re kidding,” I deadpan, “I can’t help that I’m blonde.” I throw my hands up, amazed by this. Rudy is something else. I keep forgetting that-he looks so sweet, like a little brother you take everywhere. 

Forget that. I’d leave him at home. 

He’s already walking away. To where?

“I know you can’t help it, mate!” He calls over his shoulder, “But you really should’ve been a redhead, much cooler!” He tilts his head back laughing. 

I scoff, rolling my eyes as I scan over the lot, hoping to see her walking out the school or by the cars. Nothing. Not yet at least.

 I dig around for my phone in my pockets and smile when I check my notifications. Well, there’s only one, but who cares? It’s her. 

I’m waiting by the car. We still on for milkshakes?

My fingers fly as I respond, feet moving on autopilot in that direction. 

Wouldn’t miss it! I’m on the way now. 

And just like that I have an extra pep in my step again. Milkshakes with my sort of girlfriend? I really don’t know what this is, but we are very much more than just friends. We just need to figure out how to tell everyone we’re giving this a second shot. I’d do it if she wanted me to, but it’s Jade. She rather do everything herself. Not that I let her. What do I look like?