Almost Enemies, Almost Lovers

Jo’s POV

MY LEGS FEEL like blocks of lead as I stand in front of the bulletin board in the hallway. The Beatles does a great work of blocking out the loud chatter of passing students by blasting a hard chorus in my ears as my thumbs fiddle with the straps of my schoolbag while my eyes trace the continuous array of words on one of the many decorated papers pinned to the blue, hard surface.

Articles! Articles! Articles!

Turn in your articles to the news department today. We accept all kinds of short stories, poems, creative non-fiction, and the likes that cut across diverse topics. Remember, the one with the best article gets a special place at the FRONT PAGE of Lakeville weekly. 

You have a voice. Pen it down. We are ready to listen.

There's an abridged sample of the winner of this week's article right next to it and I shuffle on my feet a bit. The words are immaculate. Each line bleeding into the next with a special twist of perfection around each sentence. Right beneath the ellipses that signify that the rest is in the school paper, the writer's name- Sara Marie Hotchkin- appears in block letters, right next to a sprawled signature.

The face of the mousy haired girl from my English class immediately engraves itself in my brain. Her hand is always up and erect in the air even before the rest of the question is asked. For a brief moment, I imagine her penning down her thoughts into a journal and skipping all the way to the newspaper department to turn them in.

I take out a piece of paper from the book that was lodged under my armpit and stare at my handwriting. I stare at the extra long crossing of all my ts and the mediocrity of my words. If birds could talk is underlined twice as the title above the body of the poem and with one last look at Sara's article in front of me, I rip mine into shreds.

Piece of crap.

I close my eyes for a second as I dispose the tiny pieces of my work into the trash and open them again after I've turned away from the board. I take a deep breath and turn up the volume of the mix to max, reveling in the transition to another song.

I pick up my steps and turn towards a corner before heading straight to one of a few of the empty classrooms in this wing. The Debate Club sign that is plastered against the door glares at me as I approach. The sides of the paper are crinkled with a brownish tint. A new addition that I haven't noticed before, sits underneath the name of the club.

Come, let us ARGUE together!

A little smile makes it way to my lips as I twist the door knob. That scrawny handwriting definitely belongs to Mrs Lenderman.

Compared to the different clubs in Lakeville High, debate club is—at least to me—considered a minority with only seven students in total. And I'm the mother Hen, aside our coordinator of course, Mrs Lenderman, but she's never really here. Especially since a life started growing in her womb. 

I'm a bit surprised when I walk in and meet six students because we're never really complete during our sessions. Khalid slyly winks at me as soon as he sees me and I roll my eyes at him, already used to his antics.

"Yo, Jo. I've got some new ideas that you'd kill to look at," Amanda hollers, flipping her braids behind her neck but I'm not listening. Instead, I'm watching Mel with a raised brow and the unfamiliar boy—the sixth person who's not a member of this club—devouring her mouth with a lustful aggression.

His hands are digging dangerously into her jean clad thighs and her body pushes further into the table she's perched upon.

"Ugh, they've been at it since we arrived," Cass groans as she tosses a crumpled ball of paper into the trash from her seat. 

It's Ann. My co-worker. 

"If you're in there, Garner's p*ss*d as hell right now. There's too much on my hands."

The corners of my eyes burn a little. "I just need a minute. I'll be there shortly."

I hear her grunt and then her footsteps fade. The self-deprecating thoughts attack my mind as soon as she leaves with a force I immediately try to contend with. Now's not the time for that.

After a couple of minutes, I test my blood sugar again and silently thank God that it's stable enough for me to get through work and go home before taking my bolus insulin. I grab all of my stuff and shove them back into my purse before tying up the laces of the skates and gliding out of the bathroom.

I head towards the counter and meet Garner's red face, puffed up with annoyance. "Where were you?" he goes straight to the point.

I nod towards the back. "Had to check my blood sugar. Sorry." 

He looks like he's trying not to snap and then he swiftly turns around and walks away. I breathe properly this time and move towards Ann and Theo.

"Sup," Theo greets without looking up at me from where he's bringing a tray of food out of the kitchen. His breath reeks of alcohol but I act like I don't notice.

Ann slaps some tickets on the table. "Tables 15, 17 and 23."

I nod and head towards the kitchen and continue the rest of the day's job. 

∞

AFTER DINNER TONIGHT, I take a warm bath and lean on the tiles for a while, enjoying the way my muscles loosen under the steam. Afterwards, I put on a thin top and satin shorts and bring out my diabetic kit. 

King—my golden retriever—barks and runs around my legs as I draw the correct dose of insulin from the bottle. 

"Yeah, yeah. I know. You have a working pancreas and I don't. Rub it in my face, will you?" I tell him as I clean a small portion of my stomach with an alcohol wipe and then pinch a layer of fat before injecting myself. His eyes follow the syringe and how the needle disappears completely into my stomach. He sees it everytime and yet he's always intrigued.

I leave the needle in there for about 5 seconds before taking it out, disposing it into my sharps container and cleaning up. I run my fingers through King's golden fur before sitting up on my bed and taking out my laptop. My brows close in on each other when I discover how strange it acts. I just assumed it was a glitch yesterday but it's worse today. The screen blinks repeatedly when I try to place a call across to Hana but she doesn't answer.

I tell myself she's probably busy because she probably is and not everyone's like Drew. I shut down my laptop briefly and turn it back on when a couple of emails momentarily distract me. I quickly turn in my Math assignment to Mr Moore's email and decide to read the rest of my inbox.

There are a couple of ads here and there, notifications from several apps and then one from school. I click on it and see the peer-tutorship program advert from three days ago. 

Become a tutor today! It begins. Then it goes on and on about helping struggling students and how honorable it is to sacrifice your time to help others. 

Accept. Decline.

I'm yawning by the time I've read half of it and I inwardly shake my head at the thought. The last thing I'd do right now is tutoring. There's no time for that anyway. My job at the diner takes way too much of my time after school and I don't think I'd do anything that doesn't involve some amount of money being involved. I scroll through the remaining half of the email and the cursor hangs between the two options. 

King barks, trying to get my attention to whatever he's doing and when I look up at him, he's trying to somersault. Before I can actually do anything, he tumbles over and knocks over my opened bottle of water. 

"King," I call alarmed and I drag my fingers away from the keyboard and almost knock the laptop over with my elbow. I climb off the bed and take my only copy of The Great Gastby that's currently half wet and glare at him. The water spreads to the rest of my books on the floor and I quickly pick them up and place them on the table that's overflowing with books already.

"Bad dog," I scold and he whines and runs around for some seconds before nudging a mop from the corner of the room with his nose. I spread the pages of the book and lay it flat on the table while a yawn racks through my body. 

Exhausted, I lean down and wipe the floor clean with the mop and then I gently run my fingers through King's fur. "Where'd you learn that trick, huh? Has grandma been forcing you to watch TV again?" 

He just barks as usual as I kick the mop somewhere and return to my bed, getting ready to call it a night. I grab my half opened laptop from the edge of the bed and try to shut it down when a sudden burst of colors on the screen makes me frown.

I open the laptop wider and see a couple of party poppers and confetti emojis. Then, CONGRATULATIONS! 

Thank you for accepting our offer to become a peer tutor in the current peer-to-peer tutoring program at Lakeville High. Your time will always be precious to us. Press here to create your profile.

What the f*ck?

No, no, no, absolutely not. I hastily scroll through the page over, hoping I'll surprisingly see something like a reverse or rewind or I-decline-your-offer-and-it-was-a-horrible-mistake button but I don't. I sit up and start to type a private mail to the school but just like that, the screen of my laptop instantly bleeds into a pitch black.

"What?" I ask no-one in particular and try turning it on but it doesn't respond. I shake the device, hit it a couple of times but it doesn't budge. It lies there, useless and unresponsive and then it starts to overheat.

Oh, hell no.

MRS JUNE IS staring at me as if I've won a lottery. She quickly ushers me into her office and the first thing that hits me is the spicy smell of spaghetti and meatballs.

"Come in, come in," she waves her hand towards me and shuts the door. "Was just having a quick lunch." She explains as she closes the lid of her food and drops it on the floor. 

I settle down on the cushioned chair in front of her desk and she walks towards the windows and flips the binds open, talking as she does so. "I found out you accepted the school's offer this morning. You don't know how happy I am."

I read the words on the plaque the sits on her hardwood desk- Guidance Counselor- and observe the chipped edges of her table. Directly underneath the edge is a stale gum decorating the wood. She shuffles over to me and takes a seat on her swivel chair, rotating slightly before remaining still and wiping her brows with a brown napkin.

"Not everyone wa