Page 14 of Sending Love Letters to Animals

At lunch, my friends picked up where they left off teasing me during Thursday’s lunch. I picked at my homemade lunch, which consisted of a sad sandwich made from leftover roast from the previous evening’s dinner, and ignored them the best I could. Jules reminded me no less than three times that we had a “date” to watch horror movies at her house later in the evening. I didn’t exactly respond enthusiastically, but I indicated that I heard her and agreed.

“I’m surprised your dad didn’t lose his mind when you told him we were hanging out tonight,” Jules said as we slid into our desks in English after lunch. “When’s the last time y’all did a ‘guys’ thing’ anyway?”

I grunted noncommittally.

“Mom ran interference,” I said.

“You mean she lied for you?”

“Basically.”

“What was the price tag on that?” Jules laughed.

“Public affection and quality time.”

Ms. Tabatabai was getting up from her desk to get the class under control when Jules leaned across the aisle to whisper.

“You’re going to owe each of them so much quality time eventually that I won’t see you until after college.”

I chuckled. “Nah. It’s just Sunday and then whatever day Mom picks.”

Our English class was pretty rowdy to begin with, but since it followed lunch, it was even harder for Ms. Tabatabai to get everyone’s attention. However, Jules and I settled into our seats and turned our attention to the front of the room like the partially dedicated students that we pretended to be. Ms. Tabatabai got everyone else in line and leaned against the podium with her forearms. A glance at her desk confirmed that she had a Starbucks cup. Obviously, she had used her lunch break for the procurement of caffeine.

“Well,” she said to the class, “it’s that time in the year. Second semester.”

It took a second, but everyone began groaning. Ms. Tabatabai didn’t let the class ruin her good mood. She chuckled at the sound rolling through the classroom before holding up a hand to stop us.

“It happens every spring semester, so get over it,” she said. “So, Jules, your partner is going to be—”

“What?” Jules perked up. “We’re not choosing our own partners?”

Jules and I exchanged a concerned glance.

“We’re going to do things differently this semester,” Ms. Tabatabai responded. “Shake things up. Makes things more exciting.”

More groans erupted from the class, which only amused Ms. Tabatabai.

Partner projects were standard in the second semester of every English class at A.M. Whitemane. It was basically a tradition at our school. After winter break, every English teacher required students to find a partner to work with on a writing project with for the first 12 weeks of the semester. It never counted more than five-percent towards each student’s overall grade for the semester. Not doing the project could lower a student’s GPA a bit if they didn’t do it, though.

Jules and I always teamed up in English for the partner projects because we’d been lucky enough to somehow have English with each other every single year. For the students who didn’t have a good friend in class to rely on to be a good partner, however, the partner projects could be a nightmare. Having Ms. Tabatabai say that she was going to “shake things up” shook me to my core. From the look on Jules’ face, she wasn’t handling the news any better.

“To make this easy and to keep me from listing every single duo,” Ms. Tabatabai continued, “Everyone on Jules’ and Ryan’s rows, look two desks to your right. That person will be your partner for our writing project for the next twelve weeks.”

Jules frowned at me, then shot a look at the desk to my right. Connor Payne was smiling goofily at her. My best friend rolled her eyes, pushed her braids over her shoulder and gave Ms. Tabatabai a fiery look. Our teacher didn’t seem to notice Jules’ displeasure. I didn’t have to look two desks over to know who my partner would be. The first desk by the classroom door had been empty since the beginning of the school year. Ms. Tabatabai must’ve anticipated that I would be concerned because when I looked up to the podium, her eyes were on me.

“Don’t worry,” she said, as though we were the only two people in the room, “I’ve got a partner for you, Ryan.”

“Who?” I croaked.

“We’ll have a full class on Monday. We have a transfer student from Whitmer Central joining us on Monday,” she said. “You’ll be paired up with them.”

Jules laughed sharply. When I whipped my head around to glared at her, she slapped a hand over her mouth and pretended to feel sorry for me. I wasn’t fooled.

“Oh, you two are so dramatic,” Ms. Tabatabai chastised us while the rest of the class grumbled in the background. “It’ll be okay. I’m sure they’ll be a great partner.”

“I guess,” I grumbled. “Why is someone transferring across town in the middle of the school year, though? That’s stupid.”

She shrugged as Jules did her best to stifle her giggles. I ignored my best friend. I’d be able to curse her out during movie night.