Chapter 8

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John slammed his hands down on my desk and I jumped. "What's our topic?" he asked.

I sighed, pulling out the notecards I made for him. "Here," I said. "These have the notes for you to say for your slides. I figured we'd talk every other. My slide is first."

Snatching the cards out of my hand, he didn't bother looking at them or even saying anything else before he was walking to his seat without a clue in the world as to what I just did.

He was going to kill me when he found out.

For the first half of class, I was so anxious. I couldn't keep my leg from bouncing. I was barely paying attention to the other groups presenting their projects. All I could think about was how I was stupid enough to follow TJ's advice to sabatoge John's grade.

But I knew for a fact he'd never ask me to be his partner again. Only because I'd be dead.

"Alright," Mrs. Peterson said over the half-hearted applause for the presentors. "Spencer and John, you're up next."

Time suddenly slowed down, but I couldn't keep track of it. I felt like I was moving through molasses as I walked to the front of the room. But then the PowerPoint I had made was on the screen and the whole class was looking at us, waiting for us to begin.

I cleared my throat, glancing over at John. It didn't seem like he looked at the screen yet. He was leaning on the wall, his arms crossed over his chest. The notecards were in his hand.

Here goes nothing.

Or everything.

"Okay," I started. "Our presentation is on the relationships between the English and the Native Americans during the early stages of colonization."

I got through my first slide of information easily. I was grateful that I wrote up the notecards, not that I needed to use mine. The whole time I spoke, John never once looked at the screen or his own cards.

Then we moved on to his slide. He looked at his notecards. "The Boston Tea Party happened on December 16th, 1773," he read.

A few of our classmates snickered, probably realizing what was going on. As he kept reading more facts about a date that happened much later than what was on the slide behind him, I noticed Marc sitting in the back row, his hand over his mouth like he was about to burst out laughing any second if he removed his hand.

I glanced over at Mrs. Peterson, suddenly afraid this was going to affect my grade too. She just watched John, no expression on her face. That worried me more than anything else.

Suddenly, John stopped reading. He glared at our laughing classmates before looking at the slide. He then turned his glare onto me.

"What the hell, Spencer?" he snapped. "You set me up!"

I could only open and close my mouth like a fish, unable to find any words to say. Everyone was watching me. Everyone was going to know that I stood up to John Masters. Everyone was about to see me die.

But, surprisingly, he didn't come after me. Instead, he turned and stormed right out of the classroom. The door slammed shut behind him, leaving the whole classroom in a sudden silence.

I looked at Mrs. Peterson. "Do you want me to continue? I was the one who did all of it, so I know..." My voice died out. I felt like I was talking way too loud. Everyone was listening.

"Yes, you may continue, Spencer. Thank you."

I was glad she was letting me present alone, but I was embarrassed. This wasn't like me. I didn't do things like this. But now everyone thinks this is who I am.

I somehow managed to get through my whole presentation, only stumbling over my words a few times. Admittedly, I faultered every time my gaze landed on Marc, who hadn't stopped smiling since John read off the notecard.

As soon as I got back to my seat, I put my head in my hands. My body was shaking and I couldn't stop it. I messed up. I really messed up. Once class was over, John was going to kill me.

"Hey," someone said, followed by a hand on my arm.

I looked up to see Marc standing next to me. Everyone else had left the room, even the teacher. Was class over already?

"Are you okay?" Marc continued.

I shook my head. "He's going to kill me," I whispered.

"He won't."

I shot to my feet, almost knocking over my chair in the process. "You don't know that!" I shouted. I didn't mean to shout, but I couldn't seem to control myself. "I screwed him over with that project! I made him look like a fool!"

"And it was the best goddamn thing I've ever seen in my life."

Taking a deep breath, I tried to slow my breathing and clear my head. It didn't help. "You fight with him all the time," I said, my voice shaking slightly. "You can handle yourself against him. I can't. One glare from him and I'll be a broken pile of bones, never to be seen again!"

Marc put his hands on my arms. "I promise you, he's not going to do anything to you."

"You can't promise that!" I pulled myself out of his hold. I felt like I was about to cry, no matter how hard I tried not to. "Why would you say that? You don't even know me, so why promise me anything?"

He didn't say anything. I didn't expect him to. I had no clue why he was here with me, trying to tell me everything was going to be okay when we both knew it wouldn't be. I was an idiot for listening to TJ and now I'm in so much trouble.

I fumbled for my backpack, shoving my notebook into it. A tear trailed its way down my cheek and I quickly wiped it away on my shoulder, hoping Marc didn't see it. Of all people to be sitting here, watching me freak out, why did it have to be him?

Marc put his hands on my arms again. "I can promise you that he's not going to hurt you, Spencer. You just have to trust me."

I shook my head, but no longer had the engery to move. "I don't know you. Not really."

"Then know this."

The next second, his lips were on mine.

I melted into the kiss, no longer thinking straight. I knew I shouldn't be kissing him, especially in the middle of a classroom, however empty it may be. But I didn't care. Marc Price was kissing me. Something I never expected to happen in a million years.

He broke the kiss and all I could do was stand there, staring at him. Marc, with his attractive body and adorable smile just kissed me. The stupid, nobody me.

"Please don't tell anyone I did that," Marc whispered.

I didn't know what to say, so I didn't. All I did was walk right by him and out of the classroom. 

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