Letters to Elle

05 | Come Alone

            05 | Come Alone

There’s there are just some things in life—like having to do a school project with your ex-best friend that absolutely hates you because he’s got it in his head that you killed his other best friend unintentionally—that really suck.

            Mr. Murry must have something against me though, because the second the words “Jeremy Carr and Waverly Sievers—Spartan War” leave his mouth, I swear I’m about to go into cardiac arrest. Who the hell decided that it was a good idea to put Jer and I together?

            Oh, yeah. Mr. Murry.

We could barely speak to each other. I think it took him every ounce of strength that he had to talk to me when we had to write that speech for Elle, and the only reason he did that was for Mrs. Summers.

            Mr. Murry leans into his desk, his palms supporting his weight. “You cupcakes seriously better take this serious project seriously because it’s seriously worth half of your serious grade. Plus, fail this class, and you won’t get your diploma. Sorry, guys, but world history does happen to be one of those classes that you need to pass in order to go to college.

            “So yeah. I’d rather not have you idiots in my class next year, too, so better chop-chop and get on this project. I’d really hate to not give you guys enough time to finish this since you know you’d have to come back if you do a crappy job and I’m forced to fail you. So this is due in two months.” He narrows his eyes at us, his class. “Get it done.”

            The sound of desks moving across the floor of the classroom is ringing in my ears and all I want to do is push my hands over my ears and hold them there until the noise stops. I’m surprised when a desk comes to connect itself right in front of mine. I didn’t expect Jer to take such an initiative to talk to me.

            “Waverly.”

            I sigh.

            “Jeremy. We’re never going to get past this first name basis in our relationship?” I try to sound exasperated, annoyed, and light at the same time, but I guess Jer just finds it annoying.

            “What relationship?” he retorts.

            I don’t answer, because, really, what is there to say in a time like this?

            When I don’t respond, Jer burrows his head in his work, writing something down on his paper. I really hope that it has to do with our project.

            When I look at Jer, I feel like I just need to tell him about Elle’s letter. I mean, he was her best friend, too. He deserves to know. I just don’t know if he’ll handle the letter well. Hell, I didn’t even handle the letter well. All day, I’ve been freaking out over it. History and all the other classes in school have proven to be great distractions. Now that Jer is over here doing things on his own, I don’t have a distraction anymore. Luckily, the devil speaks.

            “I don’t want to get a bad grade, so you can just not worry about it,” Jer says. “I can do it all, and I’ll be gracious enough to let you slap your name on it in the end.”

            Pissed off, I say, “I’m fully capable of helping you do this project. I don’t need you taking over. This is my project too.”

            “Yeah, but ever since . . . you know . . . you’ve been slacking on your schoolwork. So I’d prefer it if I just took over this project so I didn’t have to worry about you screwing it up.”