“It’s what I’m here for. Start with history?” She sits back down in the chair at my desk and folds her feet under her legs Indian style. She looks so cute sitting there, in my room, even though I wish she was in my bed. I shake the thought off—I can keep dreaming. If Laney wanted no part of me before, it couldn’t help that she found Darla pawing all over me earlier.
“Let’s read the chapter and do the review questions at the end. That’s the request from most of your teachers. I’m supposed to bring tests to you on Friday. But according to the notes, they can be open book. You have the life,” she quips.
“What is that supposed to mean?” I ask defensively.
“Nothing. You’re big man on campus and definitely treated as such.” Laney flips open her history book.
“It’s not my fault I’m good at football.”
“I never said there was anything wrong with being a good athlete. But you can’t deny you get the royal treatment.”
I shrug. “I can’t change that. It is what it is.” Unless I never play football again. And then my future, and my life, is fucked. “There weren’t people in your old high school who were popular? Who got to slide on things?”
“Sure there were.” She smirks, still looking down at her book.
“And it didn’t bother you?”
Laney’s smile gets bigger.
“What am I missing, Lemon?”
She looks up at me with just her eyes. “It was me. I was treated just like you.”
“You?”
“My father is a celebrity chef. In New York that’s a big deal.”
“You’re a total hypocrite.”
“I know. But you’re fun to play with.”
“You have no idea how much fun I can be.”
“You’re right, I’m deprived. I guess I’m a masochist.”
I shake my head. She drives me nuts. And I love it. “Let’s just get to studying.”
“Way ahead of you.” She flips a page.
Laney and I read in silence. It’s a chapter on the Korean War, but I’m barely retaining a word. All my attention is focused on the hot brunette sitting across from me. She’s wearing faded jeans that hug her body and a top that resembles a baseball player’s warm-up jersey. I wonder if she wore it on purpose. The shirt’s grey and black with the number fourteen stamped on her chest. I keep glancing at it, wishing it was the number seven. My number.
“Done, yet?” Laney looks up and catches me staring.
“Yup.” I smile, trying to cover.
“Good. Let’s answer the study guide questions then compare notes.”
“Sounds good.”
Laney picks up her pen and starts writing. I just stare at the notebook in front of me. I grab my pen and hold it between my fingers. Such a simple motion. I read the first question. Why did North Korea cross the 38th Parallel and invade South Korea?
I know the answer. Now I just have to get it onto the paper. I place the ball point tip of the pen on the blue line and attempt to write. North Korea … I’m not two words in when my hand starts to shake. The words become nothing but illegible scribbles. My heart hammers in my chest as I try harder and harder to control my hand. But it’s no use. Control is the last thing I have. I throw the pen and notebook across the room. “Fuck!”
Laney startles and looks up. “What wrong?”
“I hate the fucking Korean War.”
“What?” Her pretty blue eyes are confused.