Untethered

Part I: Valentine's Dance || Interested Parties

Happy Valentine's Day, Lovelies!
T

his is a glimpse into the lives of the Martello's and Camerons (and yes, even Rosie) in their high school years. Emma is 16 and Evan and Ryan are both 18 (seniors).

Please to enjoy!

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~Part I~

The shrill ring of the bell, signaling the end of the school-day, and the week, pierced through Emma's zoned-out brain, making her jump. Chairs screeched on the floor of the biology classroom, and while her classmates buzzed to life, rushing to get out of the building for the weekend, she took her time. Dropping her text book into her backpack, along with her notebook, and the assortment of gel-pens she liked to color-code her notes with, she leaned back in her chair, stretching and letting her spine crack, before standing up.

"You still here, Miss Martello?" Mr. Wicker, her biology teacher's voice cut through her distracted thoughts. He was one of her favorite teachers. While she hated all the gross things they had to do (dissecting a cat came immediately to mind), he was so enthusiastic about the subject, that she sucked it up and took all the science classes he offered. His light brown hair fell over his forehead haphazardly, and he shoved his wire-rim glasses up his nose.

He was a nerd, through and through, totally oblivious to the fact that he embodied the stereotype of the nutty professor to a T. His plaid shirt was browns and greens, and half of it was untucked from his corduroys, which had the fluids of-Einstein-only-knew-what experiment, spattered over them. "I thought you'd be outta here as fast as the rest of the other hooligans," he teased.

It was Friday, and as per usual, he'd given the class the last fifteen minutes to talk while he straightened up the room and organized the storage closet in the back, which was where he'd reentered the room from.

"I just have a lot on my mind." She chuckled at the way his hair stuck up like Alfalfa in the back, shaking her head. He was one of their younger teachers, and more approachable. He was even cute in that nerdy, super-smart kind of way, although he was oblivious to the possibility of romance, or even the existence of it. Emma had seen Miss Backstrom, one of the new English teachers, trying to flirt with him, and had struggled not to laugh at her growing frustration, and how completely unaware he was of her intentions. Emma slung the strap of her bag over one shoulder, and grabbed her sweater off the back of her chair.

"I thought you'd be half-way home by now. All I've heard, all day long, is all the girls in my classes going on and on about the Valentine's dance tomorrow." He laughed again, gathering up his own things, and following Emma out of the room.

Emma scowled, flipping her frizzed-out curls away from her eyes. "Yeah, well, thanks to my brother and his stupid friend, I can't get a date," she bit out. "I'm going to end up going with Rosie."

"I see." Mr. Wicker laughed again. "Well, good luck. I've heard there are some interested parties, if they can manage to get you away from your brother long enough." He winked, and left Emma standing in the quickly emptying corridor, dumbfounded.

"Who?" she called after him. "Who's interested?" Growling in frustration when he just chuckled again, and turned the corner, she spun on her heels and headed for her locker.

Muttering to herself, she barely noticed the lanky, tow-headed boy, sidling up behind her.

"Hey, Ems!" He slung a long arm around her shoulder, and she jerked to the side before relaxing.