Love in the Time of Cynicism by Jani Berghuis Page B

it?”
    “Um…” I stammer, “Word count? Due date?”
    “Decided upon by the two of you.” Sullivan runs a hand through his hair and smiles. “I do hope you’ll pick someone with more to offer than your usual Twin Rivers kids.” He nods his head at Rhett, who’s watching the two of us like it’s a tennis match. “Especially someone who’s nearly as good of a writer as you are. Got it?”
    I nod, take my seat. Sullivan ushers the rest of the class in and I immediately get to work on a game plan. How am I going to go about asking for Rhett’s help? Then, more importantly, how I am going to sneak around enough to actually get something done? It’s a tricky balance to maintain, being this punished and this motivated at the same time. Three weeks minimum and, apparently, never allowed to see Rhett again. Fantastic. More lies. As much as I can’t stand Michael and Amanda and what my mother’s become, I don’t like lying to them constantly. A few here and there, fine. But this is going to become a full time job, one I’m not sure I’m completely prepared to undertake. And especially not for someone I barely know.
     
    The day passes as a Monday generally does.
    Painfully slowly.
    I fail a science test and ace a math test. The halls are too crowded and people make out in inappropriate places. The gym teacher tells us not to be such ninnies because come on, girls, it isn’t that cold in the pool as she zips up her sweatshirt.
    The day goes on and on until I’m sitting in seventh period lunch with the usual crowd. By crowd, of course, I mean Sky’s friends who I don’t like and her rotating cast of boys who dote on her. It’s a table where between eight and eleven of the twelve chairs are invariably filled every day, the only room being the seat next to mine where I keep my backpack because, frankly, if any of Sky’s friends (male or otherwise) tries to speak to me, I feel like socking them in the jaw. Normally, I’m lucky to get a word in edgewise with my best friend.
    Today, though, the pressure’s on.
    Because of Rhett.
    He’s taken one more stab at shaking up my every day routine by plunking himself on my backpack’s seat and getting comfortable. To top it off, he’s the last one to arrive after everyone’s settles into their usual spots and Sky, center of attention she needs to be, has begun a speech on the injustices of being docked points on an essay for improper use of the word ‘literally’. (I read the essay for her; the teacher would’ve been an idiot not to take points off).
    “Doctor Love,” Sky drawls out, “fabulous to make your acquaintance.” Rhett glances at me, obviously wondering who in the hell the crazy chick is, before she continues, “I’m Sky, Cordelia’s best friend extraordinaire. When you screw up, I’ll be the first person to hear about it. And I will mess you up.”
    “Good to know?” He gazes over at me hesitantly because he can’t believe this pygmy pageant girl is my best friend. I laugh. “Should I, like, get your blessing?”
    Sky quirks an eyebrow in my direction. “Does that mean my favorite prude has agreed to date you?”
    “I’m not a prude just because I haven’t had sex with as many boys as you, Sky.” This is a constant argument between us.
    She eyeballs Chaz a moment before turning back to me. “The curse of being a woman. Isn’t it grand? If you’ve done it, you’re a slut and if you haven’t, you’re a prude.”
    “Way to perpetuate stereotypes with a line from The Breakfast Club ,” Rhett says. “And by the way, yes, she has agreed to date me.”
    “Conditionally,” I clarify as the rest of the group watches us intently.
    But when lunch ends and the end-of-day bell rings, it’s clear the school has decided Rhett and I are an item. Because that’s when the looks start.
    As I rush out of the cafeteria to catch my bus, leaving friends and slight acquaintances behind, Rhett touches my elbow (in a very appropriate and polite