Second Chances

Chapter 3: The Might of Anastasia

This isn't one of my favorite chapters, but I wanted/needed to put it in. It takes inspiration from a fic on Archive of Our Own, which is actually what triggered the idea for this entire freaking book. So, yeah. Kinda a filler chapter so I have an even 50 chapters, but anyway. 

Warning: Google translate French (ew)

Much Love, Krissy

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Sophomore Year:

Ah yes, Algebra II, my least favorite class. Well, maybe not my least favorite. Physical education is worse. At least this teacher is nice to me. It's not that I'm necessarily bad at the class - I've had an A- all year. For me, it's simply not my strong suit. But, in all fairness, it isn't John's either. My mom usually has to help us after school. My writing scrawls across the pages of my notebook as I copy the notes from the board. John says my writing is very neat and cutesy, but it's just cursive. I sigh softly and stare blankly at the board. I write faster than she can speak. It seems to be an attribute I kept from my past life - or, I'm assuming so. Finally, pages from our textbooks are assigned as homework, and we get started. The room is quiet, other than the scratching of pencils, crinkling of paper, and occasional squeaky chair. I have two pieces of paper out. One for homework, and one for communicating with John, who's sitting next to me. I scribble my note to him and tap my pencil lightly against my desk twice.

I'm so bored

He looks over and reads what I've written, smiling slightly. He writes on his second paper as well.

Maybe do the assignment then

I roll my eyes at him and shoot back my response.

I suck at math and I could finish this in fifteen minutes

He smirks slightly and starts writing again. Before he finishes, I notice whispers from in front of us. I'm about 90% sure they're gossiping about John. They do this a lot, and I know it bothers him. It pisses me off. We can always tell they're talking about him, but can't tell what they're saying. I'm nudged with the eraser of a pencil, and I look back at John. He motions to his paper.

Leave it. They aren't worth it

I purse my lips in a thin line, giving him a concerned look. He just shakes his head. A few minutes later, I see him jump slightly from the corner of my eye. I look over. One of the football douches, Liam, has a very sharp pencil, and he's poking the back of John's neck, which is exposed from him having it in a ponytail. Another football douche, Carter, is smirking as he watches his friend irritate John.

"Could you stop?" John growls quietly. Both other boys chuckle tauntingly.

"What are you going to do about it?" Carter chortles. The two haven't noticed me watching the exchange - I don't think John has either - and continue to poke John with the pencil. When Liam pulls it away from John's neck slightly, I make my move. I snatch the pencil from his hand and snap it in half.

"He asked you to stop," I hiss, sending a death glare at him. Liam gives me a look. No one ever understands why I hang out with John, but still treat me the same...Not counting the Isaac incident in eighth grade. I put the broken pencil on Carter's desk and turn back around, glancing at John. He gives me a grateful half smile, and I return it. Less than five minutes later, John yelps, attracting the attention of the entire room. I look up, seeing John on his feet and glaring down at Liam.

"What the hell?! You pulled my hair! What are we, five?" he cries. Liam just smirks at him, knowing very well that John can't do anything about it without getting in trouble. Not here, at least.