Anywhere But Here (3 page)

Shae

September 5

7 years ago

Senior year . . .

“Don’t get too comfortable in your seats,” Ms. Renner announced just as Jeremy and I dropped into side by side seats at one of the two person tables in the front of the classroom. He would have preferred to sit in the back, but I liked to be up front. He knew this and didn’t complain. Ms. Renner had different plans for us though.

“You will be pairing up for semester projects, and we’ll go over those after we get through the syllabus, but the seating chart will be based on your pairings. You’ll draw numbers to determine who you’ll be working and sitting with this semester.”

Several groans sounded throughout the class and Jeremy spoke up beside me. “Why can’t we just choose our partners?”

“Where’s the fun in that for me?” Ms. Renner smirked and then stepped forward, grabbing the Panthers ball cap from Jeremy’s head. “And since you’ve decided to ignore the classroom hat policy, I’ll be borrowing this.”

“What the hell, Ms. Renner!”

“Language, Mr. Black.”

I elbowed him to get him to knock it off. He grumbled something and folded his arms across his chest, slouching in his chair, affecting a ‘
whatever’
attitude. Ms. Renner walked over to her desk and dropped a handful of folded slips of paper into Jeremy’s hat. “There are twenty-six of you in this class, and I’ve numbered these slips one through thirteen, and the tables accordingly starting by the door in the front row. There are two of each number. I’m sure as seniors you can figure out how this is going to work.” She walked up to Sarah Marsh and Jenny Lippincott at the first table and held out the hat to them. From their pouty expressions when they unfolded their slips, it was apparent they hadn’t drawn the same number.

Ms. Renner did the same thing at table two with Doug Sanders and Cory Mitchell before she was standing in front of me with the hat held out. Jeremy and I both reached in and pulled out slips of paper. Unfolding mine, I was dismayed to see an eleven. It meant I would be moving to the back of the classroom. I peeked over Jeremy’s shoulder and saw a four, putting him at the first table in the second row. He looked at my eleven and frowned. After Ms. Renner had made it past the table behind us, where his two best friends, Matt and Josh were sitting, he turned to them and started to whisper. I was sure he was trying to find us a way to trade numbers, but Ms. Renner was sharp.

Without even turning her head toward Jeremy she spoke. “Mr. Black, I’m sure you’ll find table four is as nice as any of the other tables in the class, even if it means you’ll have to stare at Ms. Bradford from across the room.”

Several snickers rang out from our classmates and I blushed. Jeremy just laughed it off and then leaned over and kissed the corner of my mouth. “Sorry babe, I tried.”

“It’s fine,” I mumbled, not as comfortable as he was with the public displays of affection. Once all the numbers had been distributed, everyone shuffled around the room to find their designated seats and to see who they were stuck sharing them with. There were a few high fives and more than a few grumbles. I took my seat at the second to last table in the back and waited for someone to claim the seat next to me. I watched Daisy Brighton take the seat beside Jeremy and bit back a grin. Whatever this project was, I didn’t know which one of them to feel sorrier for. Daisy was as much of a slacker as Jeremy was. They both usually relied on their partners to do the majority of the work when it came to group assignments. I’d had the pleasure of partnering with both of them in the past.

I could see Jeremy working the same thing out in his head and then he shot me a pitiful look. I tried not to laugh. He was cute when he was pouting, but if I was being honest, I was glad I wasn’t working with him. Just because I was his girlfriend didn’t mean I wanted to do his work for him. Yet, somehow he always managed to talk me into it, using football or baseball as an excuse. He was too tired, he didn’t have the time, did I really want him to fail and the team to lose their star player, etc . . .

Instead of reminding him that I too had practices after school and still managed to find the time and energy to do my work, I usually caved, knowing he didn’t take cheerleading seriously and didn’t consider it a sport, even though our coach, Mrs. Parker, was every bit the slave driver that Coach Henderson, the head football coach, was.

Everyone settled into their seats and I was still left without a partner. Ms. Renner pulled an unclaimed slip from the hat. “Looks like we’re missing a student today.” She picked up her class roster from the desk just as the door to the classroom opened and in strutted my new seat buddy.

“Ah, Mr. Nash, so glad you could join us.”

I wasn’t. I wanted to bang my head against the tabletop. I’d rather partner with Jeremy or Daisy any day over Kellen Nash. At least Jeremy and Daisy would put in a little effort, even if it was minimal. Still, I could live with being partnered with Nash if that was the only reason. It wasn’t ideal, I’d much prefer someone like Sarah or Cory, but I was confident I could handle whatever the assignment was. The biggest reason I was dreading this semester partnered with Nash was because Jeremy hated him. This was not going to go over well. Right on cue, Jeremy looked at Nash and then the empty seat beside me, and then back to Nash as Ms. Renner handed him the tiny piece of paper I knew had an eleven scribbled on it.

“No freakin’ way.” Jeremy stood. “You can’t stick Nash with Shaeleigh, Ms. Renner. Let her trade with someone.” He fixed his glare on Nash, who had put together what was going on and was now smirking at Jeremy.

Ms. Renner arched her brows at Jeremy. “I wasn’t aware that Principal Miller put you in charge of this class, Mr. Black.”

He opened his mouth to argue, but knowing he didn’t have a valid point, shut it again.

“Take your seat Mr. Black, and you too Mr. Nash.” Every set of eyes in the classroom followed him back. I ignored his approach though, and kept my eyes fixed on Jeremy, giving him my best reassuring smile. I don’t think he found it very reassuring. He was glaring daggers over my shoulder where Nash had dropped into his seat.

This was going to be a long semester.

Ms. Renner called attention back to the front of the class and began handing out the syllabus. Jeremy reluctantly turned in his seat. A large, rough hand slid a copy of the syllabus across the table to me and I forced myself to look over and meet his gaze. The cocky smirk was gone, his expression neutral but for his eyes, blue and grey and wild like a tumultuous sky. It was the way his eyes always looked, not that I’d had many opportunities to gaze into them. I guess it’s how I imagined they always looked, because it fit.

The first time I ever laid eyes on Jeremy and Nash was in the same instant freshman year. They came from Blackwater Middle School on the south end of town, and I’d attended Conway Middle School on the north, but I think their dislike of one another predated even junior high. That first day they got into a fight right in the hall by my locker. Teachers had to break it up and they were both suspended. On the first day of school.

I could only hope today would be less eventful. It was one repeat of history I could do without, and Jeremy didn’t need to get himself suspended from any games. Sometimes I worried that his spot on the team was the only thing that kept him in line. Nash had no such reservations, nothing holding him back. He’d pick a fight just for the sheer joy of it. I wouldn’t say he was a bully, but he was trouble with a bad attitude and a mountain sized chip on his shoulder. It was a shame he didn’t care about school, because I suspected there was intelligence hiding behind those storm clouds in his eyes. It was in the way he looked at things, the way he looked at me. Keen, shrewd, always observing, and he knew just how to pick a person apart, right down to their core. What buttons to push, which strings to tug on to make them unravel.

I’d witnessed it. Hell, I was experiencing it right now and it was unnerving. I wondered what he saw when he looked at me. Preppy, blonde bimbo? Shallow, vapid cheerleader? Goodie two shoes? Teacher’s pet? Miss perfect? I’d heard all those things said about me, none of them kindly. None of those were me though, but I doubted he’d believe it. Sometimes I saw the same things when I looked in the mirror.

I don’t know why I even cared what he saw or thought of me, but I knew I felt intimidated by him. He flicked his eyes toward the front of the classroom and then back at me, and I realized I’d been staring for too long and had missed most of Ms. Renner’s syllabus review. I felt my cheeks flush and I shifted my gaze to the front of the class.

“Now that you’re all aware of my expectations for this class, let’s move on to your projects. Over the course of this semester, you will choose a piece of literature. It can be from any time period, including current works, however there will be requirements your selection must meet. You will find them on the outline I’m handing out now.” She passed another stack of papers around the room, and this time they came to me. I took one and passed the rest to Nash.

Ms. Renner continued. “There will be multiple parts to this project. Each one is outlined there for you with what I expect. The first part is due Monday, so I suggest you find a piece to agree on quickly. Keep in mind when choosing that not only will you be required to do a complete literary analysis and six to eight page paper, but you and your partner will be required to select a scene from your chosen work and present it to the class.”

“You mean like act it out?” Steven Standstill blurted.

“How far you go with it will be up to you and your partner. You may choose to do a simple reading, or you can get Shakespearian. I will grade accordingly, however the verbal presentation will only be worth fifteen percent of the overall grade for the project.”

More grumbling, and a few comments about how this wasn’t theater class followed. Me? I was just trying to think of how Kellen Nash and I were ever going to agree on something. I was pretty sure Ms. Renner wouldn’t let us choose the Anarchist Cookbook or the Kama Sutra, the only two books I could see Nash being all that familiar with. The first one was just a guess because I was pretty sure he hated everyone, and well, it fit with his personality. The second was more of an educated guess based off things I’d overheard in the girls’ locker room and seen written in Sharpie on the back of bathroom stalls. Poetic the females in this school were not, graphic and explicit they were.

Ms. Renner shifted gears from the project and moved on to the semester reading list and our first class assignment. English was one of my favorite subjects and I enjoyed a challenge. I was sure Ms. Renner’s class was going to offer that. My only fear was that being partnered with Nash was going to be a different kind of challenge I wasn’t up to.

At the end of class, she gave us ten minutes to discuss our projects with our partners and begin the narrowing down process. I drew in a steadying breath and turned in my seat to face Nash, who was already watching me.

“Any chance you’re going to make this easy on me and just agree with whatever I say?”

A full grin spread across his lips. “Nope.”

I let out a deep exhale. “I thought not. So, any suggestions? Because I was thinking we could do
Les Miserables
, or maybe something from Hemingway.” Really I would have loved to do Jane Austen, but I knew he would shoot that down in a heartbeat.

“Or, we could do
Slaughterhouse Five
,” he suggested.

I wrinkled my nose. “That’s so depressing.”

“And
Les Mis
isn’t?”

I attempted to hide my surprise that he even knew what
Les Mis
was. “No. It’s hopeful.”

He laughed. “Fine, what about
American Psycho
?”

I huffed through my nose, fighting back the groan that wanted to escape. “No thanks, and while we’re at it, I’m going to go ahead and rule out all Stephen King before you go there.”

“Too dark?”

“How about
Twilight
?” I shot back.

“Touché.”

I grinned.

“
The Princess Bride
?” he suggested seriously this time.

I sighed, because I would have gladly chosen
The Princess Bride
, but we couldn’t. “We can’t pick that.”

“Why not?”

“Jeremy will pick it. It’s his favorite movie.”

He wore an amused smirk. “Fine. I have no doubt you have other suggestions.”

“I take it you want something controversial?”

He shrugged, but I knew now he’d want to make some kind of statement with whatever we chose.

“What about
Anna Karenina
?” It was political, controversial, there was a lesson to be learned, and I could actually stomach it.

“Shit, you want to talk about depressing. Yeah, let’s do a report on a broad who throws herself in front of a train.”

“Ugh,” I released the groan I’d been holding back. “Fine, your turn to suggest something.”

“
A Clockwork Orange
.”

“You’ve read
A Clockwork Orange
?” I asked skeptically.