His Honeybee

chapter 1

a/n: thank you so much for the response on the preview! let me know what you think of this chapter, and do you guys like the cover? i've been tinkering with it for the past few days, and i think i'm finished with it. dedicated to Tamrina_ because she always comments on lot of my stories and I love her :)

(chapter titles will alternate between puns and random facts)

c h a p t e r 1 : to write with a broken pencil is pointless

"...And then he must pull out-"

"That's what she said," I mumble, trying not to burst into laughter at my own stupid joke.

Mrs. Caruso glares at me over her thick-framed glasses, but she doesn't stop in the middle of her lecture to scold me. Perhaps because I might be the only one passing her AP Literature class at the moment, but then again, what does she expect when she abuses her power by giving out so many pop quizzes on the legend of King Arthur?

Excalibur represents a penis, the end. Thank you, Shakespeare.

The guy beside me snickers and holds out his hand for a high five, and I gladly oblige. My affections encompass any and all people who appreciate dick comedy.

"Noisy witch," I hear someone say.

I glance around, and my eyes catch sight of Theodore Badem to my right, who glares at me. "Kul khara," I whisper good-naturedly. Eat shit.

His glare intensifies, even though I'm positive he doesn't understand my Arabic, before he shakes his head and turns to look at Mrs. Caruso. Curious, I continue watching him, and I notice a vein pulsing near his temple. My eyes widen. I hope I didn't put that there.

He's a couple of rows away from me, but my line of sight to him is unobstructed. After a couple of minutes of watching him stare almost viciously at the whiteboard, I grow bored. Who knew he's that invested in King Arthur? Because the rest of the class is falling asleep, and yet here he is, his eyes actually open. Nerd.

My eyes are open too, but I'm comfortable in my identity as a nerd. I even wear glasses instead of contacts, but that's only because I have astigmatism, which means my prescription is way too expensive.

I don't know Theo that well, but I do know him enough to know he despises me. Or at least strongly dislikes me to the nth degree, for reasons unknown.

I rest my chin in my palm and carefully rip a page out of my notebook. I spend the next few minutes sketching out Theo's angry face, and Mrs. Caruso relaxes slightly, probably because she thinks I'm actually taking notes and therefore won't disturb the class.

I draw an evil version of myself in the background, laughing maniacally, horns growing out of my head. I'm about thrice as big as how I drew Theo, and I'm holding him by his collar as he scowls straight ahead, arms crossed. We're surrounded by flames, and there's a sign by my feet that says, "Welcome home!"

I'm not drawing everything proportionally, but even so, as I examine Theo's face to draw, I realise how lovely his features could be if he smooths out that vicious snarl.

On the bottom of the page, in very tiny script, I write, Sorry for disturbing you.

And then I crumple it up, wait for Mrs. Caruso to turn her back, and lob it at Theo.

I'm not sporty, but he's fairly close and has a giant head, so I easily hit him in the cranium. His mouth immediately thins, and he swivels in his seat to pierce me with another of his scary looks. I smile and wiggle my fingers at him, but he just shoves my drawing in his pocket and flips me off with both hands.