Meet Me After Class

Chapter 9: A Peace Offering

Sprawled across my bed and my textbooks spread next to me, I stared at my white, empty ceiling and thought about him. Mr. Benjamin Scott. My Creative Writing substitute teacher.

He was so kind as to let me off the hook and just forgave my foolishness like that. Also, not only did he forgive my serious lack of judgment, he surprisingly made an effort to explain everything to me. I would have been in serious trouble if it were someone else. There was no doubt about it.

As I continued to contemplate on my recent and future actions, my phone rang inside my backpack on the floor. I jumped from my bed and grabbed my bag to put a stop to the loud song.

Wake up

Grab a brush and put a little (makeup)

Grab a brush and put a little

Hide the scars to fade away the (shakeup)

Adam must have changed my ringtone again. The guy seriously thought System of a Down's Chop Suey would make me answer calls faster.

You wanted to

Grab a brush and put a little makeup

You wanted to

"Hello?" I gasped.

"Did you ask Mr. Scott about it?" I heard Melissa's bossy voice from the other line.

I scowled and started to pace in my room. "No."

"No? I thought you went back to ask him when I asked you. And I saw you talking to him right after class today."

Even though she's smart, almost brilliant in whatever she did and a total nerd, unfortunately, very few people liked Melissa. She's dominating and could be barbaric when it came to dealing with people who couldn't follow her instructions.

"Well, he was on his phone when I went back to ask. And today, he was actually giving me a warning for coming in late to his class." Although Mr. Scott only mentioned it at the end of our talk, that part was still correct and the only thing that Melissa needed to know.

"I want to start working on arranging the music and lyrics. So, do something, or I'm ditching your story and I'll be going ahead with my original plan."

Was my play not her original plan? "What? Okay, I will."

"Now. I will call you back in an hour." And without even saying goodbye, Melissa canceled the call from her end.

I glared at my phone and hissed at her rudeness. She couldn't ditch my story now. Adam told me my story had a better potential to connect with the audience when I had him go through it last summer. He said it was more in-depth, and the characters were more developed than the school plays we had before.

I perfectly knew Melissa liked my story better that's why she had initiated the collaboration.

Okay! I gotta do something now!

I grabbed my hoodie from the foot of my bed, left my room, and ran downstairs. Melissa may be brilliant, but there's no way I'd give up my story without a fight. If I had to go and see Mr. Scott now, then so be it.

As soon as I reached the corridor between the living room and our kitchen, the tempting and savory smell of dad's cooking filled my nose. My mouth watered pronto.

"Smells like a hundred-dollar, dad. What are you cooking?" I asked as I ventured into the kitchen first.

Dad turned to me, wiping his hands on his white apron. "Slow-cooker roast chicken and vegetables."