Classwork

Assorted Starters 2

The engine of the '98 Suburban shuddered to a stop, and the door squealed as Mary opened it and stepped down. She slammed it shut behind her and turned to address the sign.

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He slammed down the glass of milk so hard on the table that liquid sloshed out of it, but he didn't seem to notice.

"Finished!" he proclaimed, though the house was empty.

He rolled up his math homework and stuffed it into his bag, singing a sort of victory song. Something along the lines of, "factoring ain't no factor to me."

Looking down on his uneaten breakfast, he stuffed his toast in his mouth and slung his knapsack over his shoulder, skipping out the door. His glee from finishing his homework was displayed on his face as he walked to the bus stop and then waited.

Once on the bus, he drifted off into an uneasy doze. He usually caught up on sleep on the bus, it was about an hour ride from his stop to school, so it wasn't the first time.

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"Three... Two... One!" Mia punched the button with a wild grin across her face, and the flash was so bright that Jeb was confused for a minute. He took a step forward across the grass, and fell over. The ground under his shoes felt strange.

"Mia," he rubbed at his eyes, "what happ—" His sentence abruptly ended as he looked around. The grass was like trees, the dirt was rocks, and the bugs, oh the bugs, they looked like monsters. He could hear Mia's voice calling for him, but it sounded far away.

He stepped towards the sound of her voice, leading into a run. He was sure that she had to be down here, somewhere. Each foot felt like a mile, and before long, he was doubled over on a blade of grass, which barely sagged under his miniscule weight. She sounded even farther away than before, and he sunk to the ground, resting his chin on his knees.

"Mia?" he called weakly, still trying to catch his breath.

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"I lost. You win. Fair?"

"Like hell, it's not fair!" she cried, biting her tongue before the rest of the words poured out as fast as the tears had come, "You can't expect it to be fair!"

"Babe," he started, but she raised a hand to silence him.

"You can't just... You can't just do that!" Her words were quieter now, but the quiet determination hadn't faded from her ice-cold eyes.

He took a step forward, and she took a step back. Looking hurt, he turned away.

"Like I said. You win."

She took a deep breath to steady herself before speaking again, her voice a whisper among the wind in the open field. "It's not winning. It's your child too. I'm not having a c-section just for you to walk out on me. He needs his father."

He sighed. He didn't want to fight anymore. "Fine. You choose what happens. I'll be the blind follower. Fine with you?"

She blinked, having expected more resistance. She turned away, trying to hide a manic smirk tugging on her lips. She bent over and took an armful of sand, throwing it on him. Despite her obvious pregnancy, she skipped around him giggling gleefully.

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"Iggy Iggy Iggy!" Jamilla said, pulling on his shirt, "Come on come on come on!"

A soft smile spread across Ignac's face, and he lowered himself into a squat to match her height. "Do you have something to show me?"

She shook her head firmly, "No, but I want you to notice meeeeeeeeeeeeeeee." She dragged the last word out, as if to dramatacise her point.

He chuckled and held out his large hand, "Well, come on then. Let's go play!"

After a while of trying different options, Iggy emerged from the shed with a box of chalk and a soccer ball tucked under his left arm.

"Come onnnnnnnnnnnnnn," she said, pulling him by the wrist from the backyard to the street. She took a chalk from the box and ran down the road, marking a haphazard rectangle as a goal on her side. He drew one for himself and then walked forwards to mark the center circle.

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