his sandwich and grins. “She totally digs me,” he gets out before Charlie throws her sopping napkin at him.
Scene Five
When I get to bio, most people are already in their seats. That’s the thing about taking AP classes. You’re forced straight up against all the other übercompetitive kids, so that even if you’re early, you still end up being late. Just being in the room gives me hives, and we haven’t even started yet. Lauren is already there, and Jon Chote and Stacy Tempeski, who have taken the SATs every year since the tenth grade. Jon is, like, a musical prodigy and is for sure headed to Juilliard next year. Stacy won a national essay competition last year and got to spend a week at the UN in Switzerland. That’s the kind of thing I’m dealing with here.
Mrs. Barch, our teacher, is the kind of woman you don’t want to mess with. I think she actually used to be a researchdoctor. She’s probably in her late forties, and as far as anyone at school can tell, she doesn’t have a husband or kids or anything. So you can see why biology would be really important to her. If she likes you, you’re in, no problem, but if she doesn’t, she’ll make your life impossible. And I don’t think I’m exactly at the top of her list. I’ve had her before, and it hasn’t gone too well.
I sit down next to Lauren, who already has her notebook open. It’s filled with all of these charts and graphs and things written down in color-coded pens.
“Was there homework?” I ask her.
She squints at me. “Homework?”
I gesture to her notebook.
“Oh,” Lauren mouths. “Nah, just getting a jump start.” She takes out a pen and starts copying down the schedule Mrs. Barch is putting down on the whiteboard.
“Hey, babe. Miss me?” I whip around to catch Len sliding into the seat next to me.
“What are you, stalking me now?”
“Don’t flatter yourself.” He holds up his course schedule and points to bio. “See, I’m legit.”
“I heard you forged those.”
“Forged?”
“Or changed, whatever.”
Len raises his eyebrows. “Been asking about me, huh?”
“You’re perverted.”
He sighs and takes out a spiral notebook. “Must we always fight?”
“Must you always be so intolerable?”
He does seem to have gotten more toxic over the years. Not that Len and I have ever been friends, but he doesn’t usually single me out for quite so much special torture. I’d worry he’s getting obsessed with me, but I can’t imagine him caring too much about anything.
Mrs. Barch likes to start class off with a clap. I remember this from when I had her for chemistry in the tenth grade.
“This class is not about the exam,” Mrs. Barch begins.
“Yeah, right,” I mumble.
“We’re here to learn advanced concepts of biology, not master a three-hour test. It will be tough, but anything worthwhile is. I expect you to be here on time and ready to work.”
Jon and Stacy are scribbling furiously in their notebooks. I pick up my pen, but I have no idea what they could possibly be writing down. “Don’t be late to class?” Isn’t that sort of an obvious one?
Mrs. Barch claps again and tells us that whomever we are sitting next to will be our bio partners for the year. She counts us off, and I end up with Len. You’re kidding me, I think as Mrs. Barch sends me an apologetic look. Fun fact: Even teachers think Len is a leech.
“This is a nightmare,” I whisper.
Len smiles at me and knits his hands behind his head. “What’s that?” he says. “You’re going to have to speak up, Rosaline.”
“Nothing.”
“I for one am really looking forward to this arrangement.”
“I’m sure you are.”
I start filling out a handout Lauren is passing around. It’s easy stuff, mostly name, class year, etc., and it allows me the opportunity to let my mind wander. Okay, so it’s not really wandering. It’s more like power walking. Power walking straight over to Rob. I’m trying to think of what I should