Ivy

I crumple up a piece of paper and throw it with the ever expanding pile on the floor. Just focus, Ivy.

"The chemical reaction of sodium hydroxide..." I reread the question for the thousandth time, but no matter how hard I try, my brain doesn't want to work.

I keep circling back to Aaron and the smug look he had on his face after he did better than me on the last test.

He said I need a tutor. He should be the one getting tutoring on how not to be a grade-a asshole all the time.

I start to think about his stupid face and his stupid grin and his stupid green eyes.

He's just so damn stupid.

I hate the dimples that form on his cheeks when he gets a rise out of me. 

I hate the way he knows exactly what i'm thinking at any given moment. 

I hate how he can so easily push my buttons.

I just hate him.

Ever since I declared that i wanted to be valedictorian, he's purposely tried to one-up me, but you know what, that ends now.

Game on, Kristensen. Bring your worst.

Aaron

"It's C," I say, and the teacher shakes her head, indicating that I got the question wrong. In an instant, Ivy's hand shoots up.

And of course, she gets the question right. What a tryhard.

"You know," Ivy looks at me, "If you ever need a tutor..."

My words. She repeats my words to me, and I laugh. "Can't think up anything original, Blake?"

"Can't answer the question right, Kristensen?" she snaps back. I shake my head, trying to suppress a grin. This girl is something else.

Maybe it's her soft features, or that loud mouth of hers, but there's something there that's very intriguing.

She's a character, she is, and a fun one to mess with.

"Okay, class." The teacher interrupts my thoughts. "I've assigned partners for the final project."

And as the teacher reads down the list of names, I hear mine being called with one Ivy Blake. Oh, this is gonna be fun.