Just One More

1

Callie

“Psst,” whispered my friend Christine. “Check out who just walked in the door!”

I spun around in my seat. Sure, I should have been paying attention, taking notes and listening carefully, but honestly this class bored me. It was something like “Intro to Anatomy” or “Biological Anatomy,” and as far as I could tell all we did was look at diagrams of animals cut in half before scrutinizing their insides. Gross.

But a tall drink of water had just sauntered into the classroom. Or more accurately, two tall drinks of water.

The men who strolled in couldn’t legitimately be called boys because they were at least six three and two hundred pounds each. With blue-black hair and deep green eyes, they were swoon-worthy of the latest Playgirl magazine … if only they’d been nude.

“Oh my god!” squealed Christine. “Science class just got so much better! Who are they? The board of visitors? Oh please please please, say they’re here to stay.”

I had to laugh. Christine was so silly but fun in a million ways. We’d had a lot of wild rides together and I could trust her to be my wingwoman, as well as my partner in crime. But right now both of us were one hundred percent focused on the two men who’d just walked in, backpacks casually slung over their shoulders.

Mr. Grimes paused in his lecture, frowning as he took a slip of paper from the first man.

“Blake Hanson? Bryan Hanson?” he asked.

“Yeah, that’s us,” drawled the first one. “We just moved here from New York as mid-semester transfers.”

I could hear Christine gasp beside me, along with most of the other girls in the room. School had just improved a great deal and life was going to be a lot more interesting from here on out.

“Take a seat, gentlemen,” directed Mr. Grimes. “Right there, next to the window. We’ll get textbooks and all that sorted after break.”

And wouldn’t you know it, but the two-person table next to Christine and I was empty. When Mr. Grimes turned back to the blackboard, I could feel Christine furiously scribbling something in her notebook, only to tear it out and pass it my way.

I looked down, figuring it’d be something like a sappy picture of hearts and arrows or something, but she’d gone further this time. Already, there was a folded note with the name Blake written on top.

“Chrissy!” I whispered aghast. “We don’t even know which one Blake is! How am I supposed to get this note to them?”

“Who cares?” she whispered back. “They’re twins, so it doesn’t matter. They’ll figure it out.”

“But what does it say?” I asked again. “I mean, these guys just got here, what could you possibly have to say to two new transfers who just showed up at Canterdale High?”

Christine rolled her eyes. “I swear Callie, you’re so unimaginative sometimes. Who cares what the note says? We just want to strike first before any of the other girls here get to them,” she said, jerking her head backwards to indicate the rest of the class.

I almost started laughing out loud. Sure, there are a lot of pretty girls at Canterdale but Chrissy had to take the cake for most aggressive. Just last week, she’d concocted some scheme to hold a wet Speedo contest in the gym – to the horror of the PTSA.

So with a sigh, I did as she asked. With a slip of my hand, I tossed the note onto the twins’ desk, to be met by a smooth look from the one closest to me. God, he was handsome. Up close, his eyes were a deep blue and unexpectedly a dimple flashed as he smiled at me, his hand swooping out to cover the note in a swift flash.

Slowly, the man opened it, glancing at the contents, only to casually tuck it into his back pocket before turning to grin at us.

“Oh god Chrissy,” I whispered. “What did you put in that note?”

“You’ll see,” she said airily. “Nothing bad, don’t worry … just something to kick things off, that’s all.”

Internally, I groaned. I was boy crazy too but I had a feeling my friend had gone overboard this time. What could she have possibly written? Hopefully something not too embarrassing. I groaned internally again. Fortunately at that moment Mr. Grimes spoke up.

“Alright, everyone to your stations. Blake, Bryan, why don’t you join Chrissy and Callie at station eight. You’ll have to share a cat, I didn’t order enough for another team, but it’s fine. We’ll get you your own animal to dissect by tomorrow.”

“Eee!” squealed Chrissy. “They’re our lab partners, perfect!”

But as much as I was looking forward to getting to know these two men, I was already feeling queasy from the task at hand. The smell of formaldehyde was rising in the classroom as people pulled out dead cats from the fridge, the sad, stiff bodies wrapped in plastic tarp. It only became worse when people started unwrapping the saran, the fumes almost overpowering.