Candy Hearts | Watty's 2015

| 01 | Monday, January 27

|  0 1  | Monday, January 27

Arizona loves school. No one she has ever told that to, thinks she is sane. But she does. She does love it. She loves how she gets to see her friends for seven hours straight. She loves how photography and film is a class and she gets graded on pictures she takes. She loves how they have an entire hour of study hall where reading for the first half is a must. She loves how teachers love the fact that she reads. But, most of all, she loves how at school, she gets seven sure hours away from Lara May.  

            Her older sister has been here for nearly an entire month, and apparently Arizona had been wrong—Lara is staying for even longer. Now, she slams her bag down very agressively next to her stool before sliding in. She likes Bio because the teacher is probably the best ever and doesn’t care if she reads in class, as long as she maintains an A in the class. And really, isn’t that all school is about? Keeping a good grade point average so your parents don’t yell at you and you get fed properly every night? (Once, Arizona had gotten a C in seventh grade and her parents had refused to feed her. No wifi is one thing, but really? No fruit snacks?)

            In angry, jerky movements, Arizona pulls out her current book, slamming it open on the yellow table. It’s a collection of short stories from The New Yorker she had found lying around at work. Just as she begins reading, someone else slips into the seat across from her, on the other side of the elevated table. Arizona’s eyes flit up to meet those of Jeremy Miller’s, and she smiles.

            Jeremy Miller is nice. He’s one of those kids you see around school and in class and you say hi or you smile or something and that’s that. He’s one of those kids that you’re friendly with, but not necessarily friends, so you call him by both his first and his last name. He’s Arizona’s Bio lab partner and she can’t really complain, because he never, ever procrastinates and isn’t a total douchebag—which basically almost all of the straight male population of Washington High is.

            “Hey, Arizona,” he smiles at her. Oh, and one more thing: Jeremy Miller is cute, with his dark, dark hair and warm, brown eyes, but his smile is killer. Like, it’s actually so gorgeous and Arizona has no idea how that even works.  

            “Hey, Jeremy,” she says back, shooting him a fleeting smile as he pulls out the worksheet that—damn it. “Oh, shit, I totally forgot to do that!” her eyes widen. The thing about Mr. Han, the Bio teacher, is that he may be totally fine with her reading in class, but he is terrifying when you don’t turn in your work on time. Rapidly, she scrambles to fill in the answers. “Can I, uh, do you—um, have prob—”

            “Here,” Jeremy Miller grins his killer grin, pushing his own worksheet towards her. Arizona nearly cries from relief.

            “Oh, my god, thank you, IloveyousomuchIoweyouforeveryou’rethebest.” Taking it, she copies the answers down quickly and hands the paper back to the amused boy. When happy or relieved, Arizona has a habit of slurring her words together. “Seriously, thank you.”

            “It’s no problem,” he shrugs, still smiling. It’s killing Arizona.

            When Mr. Han calls for the class’ attention, she sighs and faces the front, chin in hand. “Make sure to wash your hands, ‘kay? Awesome, I need two people to help pass the frogs out.” What? Arizona’s head snaps up and she spots the little bins with frogs on them coming towards her. Their stomach’s face up and she groans, head falling down ontot he table.

            “Ugh, I forgot about the dissection.”

            “Yeah?” Jeremy Miller smiles a half smile and she nods, pursing her lips. It’s not that Arizona doesn’t like dissections, she does, but the last time she has dissected a frog, it had been in seventh grade and all she remembers is the distinct horrendous small that had overtook the room. Jeremy Miller hands her a pair of vinyl gloves, which she snaps on and watches as he does the same. He brushes his black hair out of his eyes and reaches for the exacto knive-looking thing. Arizona decides to be helpful and read out the directions for him to follow, which he does very carefully.