“Intolerable!” She screams, interrupting me as I did to her. Her face is flushed red. I'm stifling a laugh at how angry I've made her, that is, until she speaks again. “I'm getting out of here!”
Before she can walk away, I grab her arm. “Hey, you're not going anywhere. We have to study.”
“Don't touch me,” she grits out, yanking her arm from mine. It's ironic how the tables have turned. Usually I'm the one doing that.
“Chill out.” I furrow my eyebrows. “What is wrong with you today?”
“Seeing your face irritates me.” She snaps back at me, breathing heavily. Then she steps back away from me and runs her hands through her hair.
That's not it. She sees my perfect face most days and loves riling me up. Today, she's different. She must have had cheerleading practice. Anytime her practice is tougher than usual, she becomes exhausted and quiet.
I shrug my shoulders. “You can be as irritated as you want. That doesn't change the fact that we have to study. Unless you want to be kicked off your team.”
It's no secret that we both despise each other, but we both have something to gain from this.
I know she is obsessed with cheerleading. I've been to quite a few games and I can't deny that her talent is otherworldly. So, I know she wouldn't want to be kicked off the team.
In my case, Mr Khalid hasn’t sent off that commendation letter yet and he won’t, until Juliette gets an overall pass for his class and passes her final exam. So, I guess I’m going to have to stop provoking her.Bummer.
She groans and says, “I really hate you.”
“The feeling is mutual.”
She sits back down on my bed and silently tells me that she's ready to get on with studying. Obviously, I need to bite my tongue today; she's clearly too exhausted to play our little game. I know I should actually be happy about that, but why does it feel so dissatisfying?
I rummage through my bag, taking out all of my belongings as she does the same. My hands reach the two-hundred-page binder I designed for her. It's my most extensive piece of study material and that's because I know Juliette hates biology; she won't learn anything unless she learns to tolerate it and what better way to do that than to immerse herself in my binder? I even added colour coded tabs and pictures.
“You made a whole binder?” she questions when I hand it to her, her eyes bulging out of their sockets. She's flipping through the pages and I'm sure I see a hint of excitement—or at least I hope I do.
I shrug. “Consider it your birthday gift.”
Obviously, I designed it before her birthday, but I did have an inkling that I would be giving it to her today. Not that it's an actual gift, I'm doing it because I have to. Besides, she's definitely used to more extravagant things, so I'm waiting for her to roll her eyes at this.
“You remembered?” she utters softly, her eyes holding an emotion that I can't decipher.
What? I've known this girl for most of my adolescent life and she's shocked I know her birthday? Of course, I hate her, but that doesn't mean I have dementia.
“I've known you for like four years, Juliette.”
“Five years,” she corrects, looking at me with what looked like a tiny smile. “Thanks… for the gift.”
I want to say that it's not a gift, that it's for studying and technically, it's for my commendation letter. Yet, I can't say anythingbecause I'm baffled that she thanked me. I've never heard words like that come out of her mouth towards me, nor have I ever witnessed such a genuine smile on her lips. It might be minuscule, but it's still there.
Why is my heart beating a little faster? Why are my knees starting to sweat? Forget it. I can't dwell on this any further. “Let's make a start.”
***
“Why is homeostasis necessary?” I ask pulling out another flash card, waiting for her answer. I’m essentially teaching this girl secondary school biology and I’m stuffing down the urge to make fun of her for it.
Her answer comes at lightning speed. “It ensures that the cells and tissues of the body have the correct environment to function.”
Once again, she's correct. It's been around forty minutes of me quizzing Juliette back and forth and she is flying through the questions with ease. It was so unexpected. Not because I think she's stupid, but because I know she despises biology. Clearly, she's been studying the notes I've been sending her for weeks. Colour me impressed, seriously.
“You've really been studying, haven't you?” I ask, perplexed.
She nods in response. “I can’t fail biology. My mother would kill me.” Her eyes shimmer with something similar to anxiousness. “I can't get kicked off the team either.”
This is the first time I've ever seen Juliette genuinely looking worried about something. She usually carries a confident facade around with her, especially when it comes to the things she so clearly excels at. Seeing her like this makes her seem more human.
