Win Some, Lose Some - Page 4

“Matthew, take a seat, please,” Mr. Jones said from the front of the room. “It’s time to start, and I’ve got a lot of material to cover before you break into groups.”

Someone in my seat and group work. Double whammy.

I looked at the guy in the chair, then up at Mr. Jones. My pulse was beginning to pound in my temples, and I was having a hard time keeping my breathing in check. I kicked the toe of one foot with the heel of the other—trying to snap myself out of it—but it didn’t work. I turned around and went up to the front of the class.

“Mr. Jones,” I said, “there’s someone in my seat.”

“There aren’t any assigned seats, Matthew,” Mr. Jones said.

I stared at the papers on his desk. All of my teachers were supposed to know the ins and outs of my education plan, including some of my triggers such as unexpected change. Most of them were great about sticking to the plan, but Mr. Jones didn’t seem to understand how much it could impact me.

“But…my seat…” I could barely

hear my own voice.

“Devin just transferred here,” Mr. Jones said. “There’s an open seat behind Mayra.”

Mayra.

Mayra Trevino.

I glanced over at the brunette with the long, wavy hair as she leaned forward with a smile on her face and chatted with Justin Lords. She had large brown eyes and full lips. She was trendy, popular, beautiful, and she was the co-captain of the girls’ soccer team along with Aimee Schultz.

It could be worse. She was usually pretty nice to me. Justin, the American football king, was a whole other story. He’d given me a hard time since kindergarten. He was a classic bully, right down to the overbearing, overachieving father, who was also the football coach.

I closed my eyes for a moment and tried to get my bearings. My entire body was tense—poised for fight or flight. There was nothing to fight against, though, and flight would mean not graduating. I could have gotten my GED already if I wanted to go that route. I didn’t want that. I wanted the diploma. I wanted to get into a good school so I could manage a decent career and be able to pay my sister’s medical bills.

You can do this.

I tried grinding my teeth to see if that would help my feet move, but it didn’t. I realized it was because my eyes were still closed, and I’d probably trip over my feet if I tried. I opened my eyes again and took a couple of shuffling steps to the other side of the room.

The other side.

Far from the door.

Shit, shit, shit.

With a shudder, I managed to sit down in the seat behind Mayra Trevino. She glanced back at me.

“Hey, Matthew!”

I crossed my arms on the desk and stared at the little hairs on my wrist. I took another long breath and closed my eyes, trying to imagine myself in my regular seat and that Mayra had just decided to sit in front of me. It didn’t help much because if she were there, where would Joe sit? I shuddered a little.

“Hey,” I managed to say quietly. Thankfully, Mr. Jones started his lecture then. What he had to say didn’t help at all, though—group work.

Shit, shit, shit.

“Everyone will be divided into pairs, choose a potential risk to our biosphere Earth, explore the causes and potential implications of that risk, and then present your findings to the class.”

Pairs. I relaxed a little. Joe and I had known each other since we were both pulled out of the regular classes in the third grade for our “superior cognitive abilities.” He was the closest thing I had to a friend, and we always worked on projects like this together. When Mr. Jones had mentioned group work, I thought he meant a larger group. I didn’t do well in those. I tried to keep my focus on the good news as opposed to the potential for public speaking, which just wasn’t going to happen. Joe would do it for us.

“Justin and Ian, pair up. Joe and Devin, Aimee and Scott, Mayra and Matthew…”

“Wha-what?” I interrupted.

“You and Mayra will work on your project together,” Mr. Jones confirmed. He smiled, and I wondered if he had brushed his teeth that morning.

“I work with Joe,” I reminded him. Surely he just forgot.

Tags: Shay Savage Romance
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