Honey and Spice | ✔️

Chapter 3

Ryder

Ah, biology. My (only) favourite subject if it weren't for Mr Wilson. I mean, he teaches okay but he speaks with a slight lisp and he's so monotonous. The only reason why I took bio instead of physics is because of math. As if Math and Additional Math aren't enough, and now there's physics, which also has math. I'd rather learn about mitosis and alleles than pendulum bobs and momentum or something.

Poe leans against the lockers and bangs his head softly against it. "My mom confiscated my phone last night. Thought I was chatting with some girl 'cause I keep smiling at my phone. I mean, watching some funny shit on my phone doesn't mean I'm hitting up some hottie. Those are two different things!"

Living alone is actually pretty good because I don't have to deal with this. And because I have nothing to say to back him up, I just pat his shoulder and say, "That's rough, buddy."

Then Derek snickers next to me and says, "Yeah, you can't relate 'cause you don't have a mom."

Okay, that's way too far, Derek. A vortex of anger swirls inside of me. I grab a fistful of his white shirt and slam this prefrontal lobotomized affront to decency that is Derek Mitchell against the wall.

"Shut the fuck up." I snarl into his face

Derek is still smirking as he calmly tries to pry my hand off his precious ugly white shirt. I really really really want to disembowel him right here and now. No one asked you, Derek, no one asked you to fucking announce it to the whole fucking world. It's not that I'm oh-so hung up about my mom but anything that comes from Derek's mouth makes me go batshit with rage. I promised my aunts not to get suspended again, but I really really really want to fucking mutilate him! Then, Nick pulls me away from behind by the arms before I completely go rabid on him.

Nathan

A small crowd has gathered near the lockers - and by small I mean around five people. I slow my pace slightly and take a quick glance at them. It seems that two guys are fighting; Ryder pinning Derek against the wall. Ryder's jugular vein bulges from his neck, his eyebrows are furrowed and his face red with fury. The muscles in his tan, chiselled arms are tense from his tight grasp on Derek's shirt. Derek, however, looks almost nonchalant, except for the omnipresent smirk on his face. Before Ryder could punch the smile from Derek's face, Nick pulls him away. Derek, who is still with a smug look on his face, straightens his shirt and tidies his blond hair. Ryder shrugs Nick's hand away and I accidentally make eye contact with Ryder, whose turquoise eyes are seething with resentment and black hair slightly dishevelled. Oh, man. My stomach turns to ice. I quickly look down and continue walking to biology class.

I sit at my usual seat by the window near the back of the classroom. No one sits beside me, which is kind of normal for me already. I turn to the last page of my bio notebook and doodle little flowers, letting myself be buried in my constant flow of thoughts.

Cole called from college last night, checking in as usual. He asked the usual things - how's school, am I doing fine, did I make any friends, those kinds of things - and he also updated me on his life in college. He told me how hot it was in the morning and because his dorm's air-conditioner broke down, he looked like he just ran a marathon. I told him triathlon would be more appropriate because it has more components and plus, he'd be soaking wet after swimming anyway. Then, he laughed and agreed with me. Afterwards, we kept talking until he had to go to finish his homework - he was the one who ended the call because I'm not the kind who ends calls - and I lay in bed with my phone in my hand. I miss him so much, it hurts.

Ryder, Sinclair and Vahn walk into the classroom, distracting me from my thoughts. There is still an air - something like a black aura, more specifically - of hostility around Ryder. Ryder and his friends walk past me to take their seats at the back of the class. When Ryder brushes past my table, a chill runs down my spine and I shiver. I shake that feeling away and resume my flower doodles.

*

Mr Wilson starts talking about some Bio project after finishing the slides on the digestive system of a frog. "Class, for your first Biology Weighted Assessment, you will have to do a lab practical and a Powerpoint slides presentation on Week 6. This will count as 15% of your overall." He informs us.

I stop doodling. It's only the second week of school and Weighted Assessments usually start in the sixth week. Isn't it a bit too early?

Mr Wilson continues, "For the lab session on Term 1 Week 3, I will group you all into twos, and whoever you're with will be your lab partner and groupmate until the end of this year." Oh boy. I don't want to do this anymore. He begins pairing us: "Jenn West and Karen Pereira, Taylor Emery and Caleb Ross, Tiffany Ong and Isaac Bielski, Nathan Adler and Ryder Dela Cruz, Juno Frey and Sinclair Dunlop . . ."

My head jolts up, and I stop listening to the rest of what Mr Wilson has to say. A sudden wave of dread radiates from my solar plexus.

Oh no.

No no no no no. Not Ryder, he's a popular kid! (Popular people and those like me are not, at all costs, supposed to mix.) And plus, he is really intimidating! Besides that, we have to be together and be lab partners and group mates until the end of this year, and he might make me do all the work and say the most things during the presentation, and. . . . My mind is drowning in the sudden surge of thoughts. I feel my heart palpitating wildly against my chest, so hard it might actually break free from my ribcage and fly away. I take in a shaky breath to calm myself (though that always doesn't work) and try to doodle more flowers, but in my cold trembling hands, they come out wilted.

*

By the end of bio, my notebook page has become a massive graveyard of dead flowers.