Hit the Books

The rest of the bus ride went quickly enough. Even though you resigned yourself to at least one more day of doing most of the girls' homework, it wasn't that hard. You'd always been a good student. Even the courses you weren't taking were doable. It also helped that you...helped yourself a little bit. Midway through one of the girl's trigonometry homework, you took a shot at improving your own intellect directly.

No dice. The voice was pretty specific. You have "ULTIMATE CONTROL" over the girls on the bus. But just the girls. Clearly the voice wasn't being a stickler for age, as evidenced by the now sober bus driver/cheer coach. Sure, it probably isn't completely transferable, but every magic lamp story has a genie who is a stickler for the rules. But...most of them also have a technical loophole. Looking down at the math homework in front of you, a thought occurs to you as you see the name on the paper.

Delilah.

You always thought it weird that some of the cheerleaders wouldn't even put their own name on the homework. Delilah, on the other hand, at least gave you that courtesy. The name on the paper inspired your next experiment. Math was always one of your stronger suits, but sine/cosine/tangent had a tendency to trip you up at times. Closing your eyes and concentrating on the wording you think carefully. "Delilah is actually very good at math. The only reason she has John do her homework is that he is a certifiable genius at math. And Delilah thinks it's rather attractive." Okay...may have gotten a little greedy there.

A quick rush has your vision blurring along the edges. When it fades, you find that the math homework is trivially easy. So easy that you have to consciously show your work on the page, as the school's math teachers are all annoyingly particularly about showing one's work. Holy shit...it worked! You almost regret leaving the math homework until last, but then you remember your decision to take it slow. No sense turning yourself into a super-genius. Yet. Besides, you now have that option in your back pocket going forward.

Finishing up, you walk down the bus aisle to deliver Delilah her homework. You spend a minute or so talking with her, explaining the "mistakes" you made to throw the teachers off your trail. You couldn't help but notice that the petite brunette was engaging with you a lot more than you remember from before. It was almost like she was...flirting with you.

"HEY NERD!" Comes booming from the back of the bus, sending Delilah into a furious blush and the rest of the girls into a cackle of giggles. "Are you really hitting on one of us? Sit the fuck down!" Taylor still seems unsettled after Wendy stood up to her earlier. She's clearly not going to tolerate anymore challenges to her carefully curated cheer hierarchy. Either she doesn't see you smirk, or she doesn't want to draw any attention to it.

"Sure thing Taylor. We're pulling into the school anyways." If looks could kill, the head cheerleader would be guilty of ****, right here, right now. Sure, she'd probably get off, but guilty nonetheless. Sitting back in your seat, you can feel several pairs of eyes on you as you start packing up your stuff. Wendy and Delilah, yes, but several others as well. After getting off the bus, Wendy runs up behind you, much to the shock of Taylor.

"Hold up John! My parents got held up. Do you think I could get a ride home with you?"

"Of course Wendy, hop in!"

As you pull away from the school, you see out of the corner of your eye that Taylor is still glaring at you. Once you round the corner and she drifts out of sight that Wendy lets out a sigh of relief. "Thanks again John. I lied to you a little bit there. Normally I catch a ride home with Taylor, but somehow, I don't think she's feeling all that charitable towards me just now."

The drive home was quick and genial enough. Though you could tell from the way she was talking about the basketball team, Wendy's ideal boyfriend might be more than a little taller than you. And significantly more coordinated. Stings a little bit to think of it like that, but the sting is lessened by the knowledge that you're now more than able to tilt things in your favor. Thoughts are swirling in your head about how to address this when your passenger interrupts your thoughts. "Welp. We're here, thanks again John! Don't forget to find me tomorrow. That favor isn't too big, but it means a lot to me."

"Uh...sure thing. We've got class together after lunch, so worst-case scenario, we can talk there."

"Have a great night John. Thanks for all that you've done for me...for us. I'm sorry for my part in letting it get this far."

"Thanks, Wendy, that means a lot."

At that point, Wendy stunned me by leaning over the console and kissing me on the cheek. I was too shocked to walk her to the door, but I did wait for her to get inside her home before leaving. In all honestly, I remember nothing about the remaining drive home, nor anything that happened until I woke up to my blaring alarm clock the next day.