Winning My Ex-Crush

Fenella’s POV

“Amy, let me introduce you. His name is Clark Thomson; just call him Clark. He was always the number one in chemistry class and some of our other classes. Clark, this is Amy,” I said besides Clark.

“Oh no, not always. There were still Jason and Matt, who were more accomplished than me.” Clark blushed and offered his hand. “Hi, Amy,” he said.

“Amy.” She only waved her hand, reluctant to shake his hand.

Amy observed Clark from head to toe. Clark’s curly hair was reddish-brown. He wore small, round-shaped glasses that looked smaller than his large, round face. His skin was pinkish-white and sweaty. He was chubby and tall, and his posture was almost always slouched, as if Clark was too aware of his size.

“What extracurricular activities do you do?” Amy asked.

“I’m on the Lab Rat team,” Clark said excitedly. “We’re going to compete in a science competition next month.”

“Okay, that’s enough.” Amy raised her hand to cut off Clark’s speech.

“Alright, see you later, Clark. I’ll call you later,” Amy said with a friendly smile, her hands clasped in front of her chest.

“Will we discuss the chemistry assignment later? I heard Mr. Bergen and Ms. Mitchelle assigned the same thing in our class, so I thought they made the same grading matrix score,” Clark quickly and nervously told Amy.

“Oh, yes, of course. Thank you, Clark; I’ll contact you later.” Amy smiled again.

“But-”This belongs to NôvelDrama.Org - ©.

“I said later,” Amy said slowly, her gaze turning fierce.

“Of course.” Clark immediately ran out of our house.

“Why did you act like that towards him?” I tried to protest to Amy, but she ignored me.

“We’re in a hurry, Fen. We have a bowling date with Chris and his friends. The football team is celebrating their victory from yesterday. Come on, hurry up and get dressed, or I’ll leave you behind,” Amy said as she walked into her room.

Tomorrow is still Thursday, and we have a curfew at 8 p. m., but of course, we’re not really worried because we now have assignment references from our sources. Although my stomach was slightly cramping because I was on my period, Amy threatened not to take me out again if I didn’t go just once.

So I followed our group to the bowling alley instead of doing assignments. That’s how it goes almost every night. We spend our time going out, having fun with groups of boys, practicing cheerleading, and cheering at weekly games. On certain nights, we exchange assignments by modifying some words and sentences from our friends’ assignments, a. k. a., our mentors.

Of course, I’m having fun too. I have to admit, Amy knows best how to have fun. This is the teenage life I’ve always dreamed of, just like the movies we watch every week.

Until one day, I realized it wasn’t fun anymore.

***

End of the 10th-grade year…

“Fenella? What’s wrong with you?! Are you okay?” Sophie asked, startled, as she saw me coming out of my room in the morning.

I shook my head and walked to the kitchen to get some water. After gulping down a full glass, I sat down weakly on the dining chair.

“Chemistry final project,” I replied.

Damn it. Last night, we all went to the billiards venue with the theater team until almost past curfew. I completely forgot about the chemistry final project! It’s almost 30 pages thick, and I don’t have much time to revise all the pages.

Meg also came out of her room and drank a glass of water next to me. She sat down weakly and sighed deeply.

“Meg, what’s wrong with you?” Sophie asked, even more concerned about seeing us.

Meg replied with an empty stare, “Chemistry final project.”

“Oh, thank goodness I’m in the language course.” Sophie sighed with relief.

I don’t know if I’ll pass the plagiarism check or if Ms. Mitchelle will bother to look it up. Amy assured me, Meg, and Nicole that we’re out of time. At exactly 7 in the morning, we must submit the assignment by uploading it to the e-learning website.

There’s no time to revise all pages. There is no time to rewrite all the formulas, diagrams, and mathematical calculations. I uploaded the assignment file almost as it is, just like Clark’s assignment.

***

“Fenella, I’m so scared.” Clark bit his thumb while pacing back and forth.

“Stop it, Clark. You’re making me dizzy,” I said with the same anxiety.

We waited in the hallway in front of the teacher’s room. Not long after, Amy walked out calmly.

“It’s your turn,” Amy said calmly.

“What did you say, Amy?” Clark asked, panicking, gripping Amy’s shoulder.

“You hurt me!” Amy looked angry and pushed Clark’s hand away.

“But-”

“I said you shouldn’t look so scared. Do it as we planned last night,” Amy whispered fiercely, alternating her intense gaze between Clark and me.

“Listen, Clark. If you mess this up for us, I won’t hesitate to drag you down to hell. So, stand tall and answer those questions with confidence. I want your acting to be convincing enough to save us. Got it?” Amy asked.

“Does that mean I’ll be your hero?” Clark asked, glancing at me.

Amy walked behind me. Her hands slowly squeezed on my shoulders. She hissed to Clark, and I could hear every word in my ear.

“Yes, of course. Fenella is here, and she’ll gladly make you our hero. She’s also ready to accompany you to the dance party later. I guarantee you’ll have fun.”

Right after Amy stopped talking, Nicole and Meg came out of the door too. They looked exhausted and tired.

“How did it go? Did you do as I instructed?” Amy whispered to Nicole.

“Yes,” Nicole replied quietly. Amy turned to Meg, and she nodded.

“It’s your turn now. Break a leg,” Amy said to me and Clark.

With a wildly beating heart, I turned to Clark. He looked unsure and scared, but I squeezed his palm for a moment. I nodded to reassure him, and he nodded back.

Clark walked to the left door, where Mr. Bergen was waiting for him. I walked to the right door, where Ms. Mitchelle was waiting for me.

I knocked on the door. When I heard Ms. Mitchelle’s voice inviting me in, I entered. I pushed the door open and saw a fairly large room with a square conference table and four chairs facing each other. After Ms. Mitchelle gestured for me to do so, I sat in front of her.

“How are you, Fenella?” Ms. Mitchelle asked.