A muffled 'come in' was voiced by Mr. Rosenberg on the opposite side of the door.

Obeying his words, I casually stepped into the classroom and walked over to Mr. Rosenberg's desk.

"Is there something you need ms..."

"Autumn. Autumn Cross."

He cleared his throat. "Right. Ms. Cross," he positioned his rectangular glasses higher up on the bridge of his nose with his pointer finger.

"Well?" He asked, not looking up from the papers he was grading.

My eyebrows furrowed together. "You're already grading?"

"Essays from my AP students, yes. They needed to finish this over the summer." The pen he was holding oozed dark, red ink as he wrote in cursive on the students essay. "What do you need Ms. Cross, I'm busy."

"Right. Um is it okay if I switch partners?"

Mr. Rosenberg's hand movements stopped and this is when he looked up at me, finally taking his attention away from his essays. "Why on earth would you want to switch partners?"

"Because I have the worst partner and I really want to get a good grade. He refuses to work with me for god knows what reason and I'm not fooling around. He doesn't try in anything and if he gets into a good college because I did all his work then I will be furious."

The teacher crossed his fingers on his lap and leaned back in his chair. "I'm sorry, how many days have you been at this school?"

What kind of question is that? "Uh, one."

"Exactly. So do you really think you know him? Do you really think he doesn't try in anything and refuses to do the work hard?"

I shifted my position awkwardly. "I don't know him. But I heard from–''

"So you're not giving the boy a chance because you heard from some student that he doesn't try and refuses to work hard?"

"Well when you say it like that I–''

"You don't even know the kid yet you're saying all these horrible things. How would you know the truth about him if you didn't get to understand him at least? Here, I'll tell you what, work with him for a week. If he's as bad as the other kids say then fine, you can work alone. But if he says he will help then you will be his partner for the whole year. He just needs a little motivation."

Nodding my head, I sighed. "Ok. That's fair I guess."

Mr. Rosenberg clasped his hands together. "Great! Now if you don't mind, Autumn, I have papers to grade."

"Oh right, sorry."

I made my way to the door when I heard him say one more thing. "I've heard strange things about the young lad too, you know. But I have a strong feeling you're going to be the one that will help him."

I stopped walking and turned to face the teacher sitting at his big desk. "You don't even know me. How do you know that I would help him?"

He laughed, "you're right. I don't know you and yet I still have a feeling you will be the one to help him. Maybe you showing him that actually caring about school work will get him somewhere in life, may encourage him to cooperate."

Without responding, I opened the classroom door and headed to my next class, calculus.

Help him. Maybe you should just try to help him.

***

"You're late," a young lady with short, curly brown hair stood up by the white board, eyeing me like I committed a crime. Her white blouse and red pencil skirt looked beautiful against her dark skin.

"Sorry." Feeling everyone's eyes on me, I awkwardly scratched my neck. "I was talking to another teacher."

The lady folded her arms infront of her chest. "Well don't be late again, or else it's detention, got that?"

Nodding politely, I responded with: 'Yes miss.'

Before I walked further into the classroom, I looked around for any available desk. As my eyes scanned the crowded room, they landed on only one open spot in the back of the room.

I sat down in the open spot and shuffled through my bag, looking for my notebook.

When I didn't hear the teacher speaking anymore, I lifted my attention up only to see the whole class and the teacher watching me.

"Well? We're waiting," my calculus teacher said, obviously annoyed.

Did I do something to offend her? I'm so confused.

"Uh, what?"

People from different spots of the classroom giggled. I'm literally not even funny so either they aren't laughing at me or I already did something clumsy, even though I've only been in class for a matter of minutes.

The woman's high heel tapped frantically against the marble floor. "Are you done making so much noise trying to find what you need in your bag or do we all have to sit and continue to watch you."

What's her problem?

Deciding that grabbing my notebook wasn't such a good idea, I placed my bag on the ground next to my desk and sat quietly.

"Good," she huffed. "So now I want you all to fill out these math problems," she held a bunch of white pieces of paper in her hand. "You will need a calculator."

Dammit! I forgot my calculator!

I looked over at the girl next to me, who was filing her nails with a nail filler I assume she brought from home.

Who the hell brings a nail filler to school? The fuck?

"Pst," I leaned closer to the girl.

She stopped filing her nails and looked at me. "Ew, what the hell do you want?" She asked with a disgusted tone.

"Do you have a spare calculator I could borrow?"

She rolled her eyes at me, "piss off."

Okay, rude.

"Ok well can you atleast tell me what our teachers name is?"

"Her name is Ms. stopaskingmequestionsorillpunchyouintheface."

I glared at her, my anger getting a strong hold on me. "Who the hell do you think you are?"

"You don't know me?"

I shook my head.

"I'm Heather Valentine," she flung her golden blonde hair with her hand so it all flopped onto her back. "I'm the most popular girl at Willington high. So for you not to know me, is actually quite hurtful." She placed a hand on her chest pretending it hurt her heart, if only she had one.

"Good, I'm glad it hurt."

Her light green eyes turned into dark, dangerous daggers which made me feel like I was getting stabbed. "You messed with the wrong girl. I will make your 12th grade year a living hell if you even look my way again, you got that?"

"Ha! I'd like to see you try," I challenged her which made her even more furious.

"Oh you little–''

"Girls in the back! Enough talking! You both get a detention this Friday."

"But I have somewhere to be!" Heather whined.

Our teacher slammed her books onto her desk, making everyone flinch. "Zip it! If you miss detention this Friday, don't expect to get a grade higher than a D+ in my class the whole year."

WHY IS SHE SO EXTRA LIKE GOD!!!

I rolled my eyes. This Friday is going to be so great! I get to spend two hours with my new enemy and my least favorite teacher, how wonderful!

I looked up at the ceiling. Why does the universe hate me?