Social Studies!

Lunch goes by rather quickly, and coming off the heels of a quick power nap you took during your study block, you actually feel quite refreshed, which is a godsend considering you’re now heading right into…

Social studies. Grade-wise, socials isn’t your worst class - math holds a firm lead in that regard, but it’s just boring enough that you wouldn’t consider it a favorite. Your teacher, Mr. Toth, is an interesting enough guy, but the subject matter itself has just never appealed to you - something about being **** to memorize locations and dates for hours on end makes you want to jump out of the nearest window.

Still, it’s a somewhat easy course and there are the occasional creative projects, so you do tend to pay attention in class… for the most part. It seems today will be no different, as Mr. Toth is eagerly setting up the projector in the front of the room, something he only does when he’s about to go over an assignment.

Settling into your desk, you observe the last few stragglers enter the classroom as Mr. Toth’s booming voice begins instructing everyone to take their seats.

“Alright everyone, listen up!” he orders, motioning towards the faded image of a slideshow presentation set upon the projection screen at the front of the room. “We’re wrapping up our World War Two section this week, so I’m assigning a final project for everyone. It’ll be worth ten percent of your mark, and yes, it is replacing what would be a final test on the subject, so… You’re welcome.”

He smiles, and a few of your classmates whoop loudly. You also find yourself sighing in relief - Toth’s tests can be brutal.

He begins to go over the project. It’s a two-person assignment, meaning that unlike in past projects, you’ll have to depend on another classmate. Luckily, it seems to be quite easy: simply redrawing a famous photo from World War II and writing a report on the history of the image, some background information, and the impact it had. Seems like more of an art class assignment than a social studies project, but either way it’s a nice change of pace.

As he finishes his lecture, he begins pulling names out of a hat, pairing people together. This is what really matters - getting paired with a good partner is going to make or break this assignment. You watch in anticipation as the number of unpaired students begins to decline, and soon enough…

“Bennet, and…”

You hold your breath as you glance around the classroom. Who’s it going to be? Omar, who you’ve shared one class with the entirety of highschool? Mike, who’s never put out a quality project in his life? Kendall, who’s over in the corner yapping to her friends in that incredibly annoying tone of hers? Oh, god, please don’t let it be Kendall.

“Charlotte.”

You blink. Charlotte? W-wait, really?

As you excitedly scan the room, your eyes meet hers, in all her glory. You try to mask your jubilant expression, but a little bit slips through and her gaze narrows. It seems that she’s not as happy with the situation as you are.

After the pairings are completed, Mr. Toth orders everyone to meet up with their partners. You practically skip over to Charlotte's desk, and she begrudgingly pulls out a chair for you to sit on.

“H-hey, Charlotte,” you sputter, heart racing. “I guess we’re doing this project together, huh?”

“I guess so,” she replies listlessly, putting some last touches on a page in her notebook. Curious, you discreetly eye the book and spot that each of the lined pages is positively overloaded with notes, all written in perfect handwriting. You watch as she flips to the most recent page, finding the entire criteria for the project written down in clean, perfectly aligned boxes. She’s very prepared, you realize, as your gaze slowly lifts to her face.

As you stare, you can’t help but notice her gorgeous features. Her curly blonde hair flows delicately from her head like a fountain, ending just below the shoulders of her ironed, snow-white dress shirt before curving gracefully upwards. Her ocean-blue eyes sparkle in the light as they look back at you, and you find it so easy to lose yourself in them. Her button nose sits elegantly upon her face, perfectly symmetrical and tinted with the same blush that covers her cheeks... there’s a reason you’ve been crushing on her so hard these last few years. Her scarlet red lips, carefully juxtaposing her pearl-white skin, seem to move in slow motion as she speaks, which… oh.

You realize she’s been talking to you for quite a while now. Quickly zoning back in, you catch the tail end of a question, and your mind begins racing. Shoot, what has she been saying?

“Uh, sorry, can you repeat that?” You ask sheepishly, and she buries her face in her palm. “I asked,” she exasperates, an annoyed tinge accenting her voice, “If you can draw. Y’know, illustrations? Sketching? All that jazz.”

You mull over the question. Although calligraphy is what you’re best at, you’re not a stranger to the fundamentals of standard drawing techniques. You can draw shapes and objects pretty well, and whilst other vital skills like rendering and coloring aren’t your forte, you find it hard to believe that your social studies teacher will care if they’re left out.

“I’m pretty decent at it. Why?”

She rolls her eyes. “Seriously, how long were you not listening to me? We’re gonna split the project in two. I can’t draw, so I’ll take over the research and writing part. You handle the art.”

You consider the deal. It’s not a bad idea, but you feel like Charlotte is selling you short. The research and writing section is undeniably the bulk of the assignment, and you don’t want to **** Charlotte to do most of what is specifically a team project.

“Are you sure? I’m not awful at writing, and we can go to the library after school to research if you want…”

She shakes her head. “I think it would be better for the both of us if you just stuck to the drawing part.” Ouch. Is your rep really that bad? You’ve never had Charlotte as a group partner before, and you’re certainly not a slacker in terms of creative assignments, so you can’t imagine where she’s gotten the idea that you’re a bad groupmate - although actually, considering the run-in with Kendall earlier and her uncanny ability to spread rumors about you, you do have a guess. Either way, she isn’t backing down, so you have **** but to accept her offer.

“Alright, fine,” you sigh, taking another look at her notebook. “So, what photo do you think we should cover? The one with the soldiers putting up the flag? Uh… that one with the navy guy kissing the nurse?” Those are the only ones that come to mind.

“I haven’t decided yet.” She says plainly, reaching for something in her bag. “Although, I do have this.”

She pulls a thick book, dropping it cover side up onto the table with a hollow thud. It’s an old book, likely from the eighties or nineties, and the title screams up at you in an ancient sans seraph font: The History of Photography and Art During WW2, by William D. Robins. Wow, that’s… perfect. And strangely convenient.

“How did you know to bring this today?” You ask, bewildered.

“I asked Toth what we’d be doing for this class last Thursday,” She says, matter-of-factly. “Then I checked the book out from the library before anyone else got to it. Pays to be prepared, huh?”

“I’ll say,” you agree quietly, a bit freaked out that she’s this prepared. You didn’t realize that Charlotte was this… intense, but to be fair, you’ve only ever admired her from afar.

“So… when do you want to get together? I may not be doing any research, but you might want to see me do the drawing,” You say, grasping for any reason to see her outside of school. Unfortunately for you, your suggestion is immediately shut down.

“It’s just a drawing, isn’t it? Just send me a photo before we hand it in. That should be good.”

Darn it, this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to get to know Charlotte, and she wants to work over text? Whatever happened to proper face-to-face team projects?

Having made up her mind, Charlotte once again takes out her notebook and begins writing in it. You stare forwards, trying to think of a plan, any plan to work together, but the dismissive look on her face gives you the impression her decision won’t be swayed.

Unless…

You look over to the book on the table, the plastic-lined, reflective maroon cover winking back at you. It really is perfect, and no doubt the only resource Charlotte is going to need. She got lucky finding it in the library… In fact, it’s pretty unlikely she’d be able to get a different copy from anywhere else - which gives you an idea.

Discreetly reaching into your bag, you remove the special pen from your pencil case. Stirring it slightly, you check the ink level through the small glass window on the side - more than enough.

Gripping the pen tightly, you mask it in your hand and turn to face Charlotte, who’s still writing in her notebook. Tapping her on the shoulder, you place your empty hand on the book and cock your head towards it. “Do you mind if I look through this for a sec?” You ask, pulling back a bit as she shoots you a suspicious look. After a moment, she returns her gaze to her notebook and mutters a dismissive “sure,” and you eagerly drag the book towards you, a bit surprised at how heavy it is.

Still clutching the pen, you carefully check her to make sure she isn’t watching, and upon confirmation that she isn’t, you turn away from her, rapidly jotting your name down on the front. You work as fast as you can, accidentally smudging the name a bit with your finger as the ink struggles to sink into the laminated cover. Luckily it’s still legible, and you slowly push it back towards Charlotte, eyeing her the entire time. “Thanks,” you say warily, and she tears her gaze away from her notebook as she looks up at you with uncertainty, raising one eyebrow. “What, done already? What did you even-”

Her eyes lock onto the book.

“Hhuh,” she mutters quietly, slumping her shoulders slightly as her quickly glazing eyes burn onto the name. The pencil in her now limp grasp falls away, clattering onto the desk before carelessly rolling off and clipping the edge of her skirt as it bounces onto the linoleum floor.

It only takes a single glance at Charlotte’s blank expression to give you a familiar feeling. Conquest flows through your body, starting from some indeterminable point in the back of your mind until it spreads out, pulsing underneath your skin in small waves. It’s… warmer this time. Fuller. Is this the same feeling that’s going through Charlotte as well? However alien it may feel, you can’t deny that it gives you a rush like nothing has before, and the dreamy, zoned out look on Charlotte's face only heightens it.

It’s the overwhelming feeling of control.

And it feels good.

But then, it fades, and despite trying to hold onto it as long as you can, your memory of it quickly fades as well. All you’re left with is a hollowness in the back of your head and a feeling all throughout the rest of your body akin to scratching an itch - an itch you never realized you had.

As you blink away the blurriness in your eyes, you awaken from your stupor and find Charlotte, her mouth hanging open in disbelief as she holds the book aloft in both hands.

“Bennet… is this yours?” She asks, her eyes locked onto the cover. Still slightly dazed, you manage a nod, and she hesitantly hands you the book, her cheeks aflame with… embarrassment? Confusion? You aren’t sure, but somehow she’s even cuter when she’s all flustered like this.

“S-sorry Bennet. I didn’t mean to steal your book… I guess I just never realized it was yours.” She quietly bemoans herself, looking right at you with those beautiful ocean-blue eyes. “I don’t know how I couldn’t have known. How long have you had it for?”

“Uh… I’ve always owned it, I guess,” you answer, watching her expression for any signs of suspicion, but she simply bites her lip and nods. “Always,” she mumbles, quickly looking away, her face tinted red. She sits in silence for a moment, but eventually shakes her head.

“It must’ve been the library. They took it by mistake.” She looks back at you, a look of concern set upon her face. “Well, I suppose I can always look for another copy… or use Wikipedia.” She seems to shudder at the thought. No need for that - let’s see if she takes the bait.

“I mean, you could always borrow it from me, if you want,” you say, and her eyes get a bit more hopeful. “But… only under one condition.”

Her gaze steels once again. “One condition?”

“Yeah. We work on this project together. None of this splitting up the work crap, okay? Starting now, we’re a team, and so we work as a team. Hell, I can even teach you how to draw… if you want, I mean.” You mostly threw in that last part to sweeten the deal, but based on her expression right now you doubt she’s going to take you up on that offer.

Her gaze alternates between your eyes and the book on the desk, a suspicious look on her face. This is not what she planned, but, honestly, she doesn’t really have a choice in the matter. “Ah, goddamnit,” she mutters, looking down. Her face slowly shifts into one of resignation, and she’s about to say something, when…

Your mouth suddenly begins moving. “Oh, and we have to work at my place.”

“What?” She sits up, almost slamming her hand on the desk before looking around and sheepishly smoothing her skirt. A couple other groups look your way and titter unintelligibly, having clearly heard her little outburst. You, however, don’t entirely notice, as you’re currently trying to come to terms with the words that just came out of your mouth.

Why had you just said that?

“What happened to working at the library?” She huffs quietly, just a little embarrassed at her overreaction.

Yeah, what did happen to working at the library? You’re completely caught off guard and have to **** yourself not to stammer. Seriously, why had you said that? You didn’t will yourself to speak at all, the sentence just appeared in your mind and you… said it.

…Well, whatever reason it might be, it looks like you’re going to have to defend your position.

“W-well, that’s just the ground rules for letting you use the book. I’d rather not lose it again…? N-not that you did it on purpose, but…”

She stares at you for a moment, before sighing. “Okay. you’re right. I guess I owe you for… stealing your book.” Her face betrays a hint of guilt as she looks back at your book. “…Fine. Deal. Gimme your number. Does after school tomorrow work for you?”

“Uh, yeah,” You say, unlocking your phone and handing it to her. “I don’t have anything planned.”

She nods as she inputs your number into her phone and hands it back to you.

“Alright then.”

You both sit there for a moment, an awkward tension slowly setting onto you both. You’re still mulling over your strange outburst, turning over in your head what could have caused you to speak up like that. Charlotte seems to be lost in a whole other train of thought staring at your book, and you take the opportunity to admire her good looks. You’ve never seen her this close up before, and while she isn’t as gifted as some of the other girls at school, you’ve gotta admit, they’re a perfectly adequate size. You feel a bit guilty looking - you’ve certainly never been so bold looking at girls before, but you suppose you’re a red-blooded American male and it probably can’t hurt to look.

Your gaze eventually lifts to her face and luckily she takes that moment to turn away from your book and look at you. She seems a bit less pissed now, for whatever reason. “Listen. I have a question. Not about the project.”

You raise your eyebrows. Charlotte wants to ask you something? As far as you can tell, she barely knew you existed 10 minutes ago. What could she possibly want to know about?

“This morning. In Spruce’s class. What happened there? It’s all anybody’s talking about.”

Oh, goddamnit. She remembers. Of course she remembers, it’s not every day that Spruce apologizes to someone that she’d been screaming at only a couple of seconds before. Hell, it’s not every year that Ms. Spruce apologizes for anything at all.

And, wait, did she say…

“What do you mean, ‘it’s all anybody is talking about?’”

“Word gets around,” she replies matter-a-factly. “And news about her little freakout this morning seems to have made its rounds across the school. I even overheard some ninth graders talking about it at lunch - did you know she started teaching grade nine? That must be hell.”

You chuckle. “Not a big fan of her, either?” You prod, grinning, and she shakes her head. “Not at all. She’s screwed me over more times than I can count. Y’know, this one time she marked me down from a 100 to a 90 on a quiz because I forgot to write the date.”

You nod, barely pretending to relate. “Yeah, I…. hate it when that happens.”

The edges of her mouth tug upwards. “No, but really. What happened?”

You aren’t an actor, but you try to play the question off as well as you can. “Well, she thought I stole some homework, and I didn’t. She, uh, realized she was wrong. That’s all there really is to it.”

She nods, but she looks slightly disappointed. “No ****?” She kids, but you shake your head. “No ****. Although, it honestly wouldn’t surprise me if it turns out Spruce killed somebody in the nineties or something.”

She chuckles.

“Yeah.”

The tension seems to have dissipated - you’re not sure whether that’s because Charlotte feels guilty, or if she just turns into a more amiable person when discussing gossip, but either way it’s a nice change of pace. Then there’s another moment of awkward silence before Toth’s booming voice once again echoes throughout the classroom.

“Alright everyone, hopefully you’ve all got a plan for what you’ll be doing - remember, this is due this Friday. Find some time after school or during, get together and get it done! For now, I’d like to have everyone return to their seats for the rest of the lesson, please.”

Nodding, you turn to Charlotte and stand up from your seat. “I’ll see you tomorrow, I guess?” She nods in turn and you walk away, a growing twinge of excitement coursing through you. Charlotte Amely, in your house. You’ll have to tell Mom to stay out of the house for the day, lest she get all excited and try to show Charlotte baby pictures or something.

Your thoughts are quickly interrupted, however, as someone shouts from behind you.

“Bennet!”

You turn around to see Charlotte holding your book in the air, the smudged ink of your name emblazoned across it. “You forgot something.”

“Oh! Uh. Right.” You nod sheepishly and take the book from her hands, thanking her. Hurrying to get back to your desk, you catch one final look at her face as you sit down. She’s… staring at you. No, at the book in your hand. Her face betrays little emotion… well except for one. It’s hard to see from so far away but once you do see it, you identify it almost immediately.

Suspicion.

You quickly shove the book in your bag and face forwards.