Three.
There are three things I have learned about this- child- I've been partnered with.
One, his name is George Thayer, though he prefers to be called 'Georgie'.
I am not calling him Georgie.
Two, he lives at 794 Margoutt Lane with his father.
I am not going to 794 Margoutt Lane.
Three, he talks too much.
Three things I have since learned, and not one of them will help with our project.
"-but I guess we could just do something wi-" He stops talking as I put my hand up. "George-" "Georgie." He corrects me with a smile, one that falls when I glare at him. I open my mouth, closing it with a frustrated sigh as I am interrupted by a loud ringing sound.
Great.
Class has passed and I have done nothing.
"It's alright, we can just meet up after school. Here's my number, text me when you leave school. We can meet somewhere and go to your house. See ya!" He finishes, smiling and waving goodbye at me as he exits the classroom.
It is now, I realize, that I am alone here. Except for the teacher, everyone has left for their next class.
I pack my things quickly, placing the note in the small front pocket of my backpack.
~•~
As I exit the school, I begin walking home, only to be interrupted by a high-pitched voice. "Frankie! Wait up!" I pause, sighing as I remember that I have something to do. That realization does nothing as I begin walking just as fast, if not faster, the moment he catches up for me.
I've always walked much faster than everyone else. And I realize that. But, unlike seemingly everyone else around me, I'm not willing to change myself in order to accommodate everyone else around me.
"Slow down! I can't walk that fast!" He yells at me again.
"My house is approximately 2.1 miles from the school. If we hope to get there in 30 minutes or less, we need to hurry. Understand?" I explain, stopping to look at him. "Okay, but can we at least take a break? I'm tired!" He complains. Scoffing, I begin walking towards my house.
~•~
It takes just over 40 minutes to reach my house, and I'm quite annoyed at the fact. If he had tried to walk fast, or at least keep a steady pace, we would have been here much faster.
Even now, as I wait at the front door, he isn't even trying to get here fast.
Out of all the people in the world to be partnered with, I was stuck with him.
I shake my head, rubbing my temple at the thought.
As he reaches the front steps, he bends down to catch his breath. I roll my eyes at his drama, unlocking the door and waiting for him to come inside.
When we enter the house, he just stands there while I walk over to the kitchen. I look over to him, and seeing that he seems to still be catching his breath, I sigh and ask him, "Would you like a glass of water?" He nods and says a polite thank you, though he doesn't move from his spot. I look at him and motion for him to sit, since he clearly isn't planning on doing it otherwise.
"So, where are your parents." He questions me, clearly noticing the absence of life in this home. I look down and sighed, "They're dead."
I don't regret what I did. I don't feel bad. I did what I had to do.
"Oh, wow, I-I'm sorry. W-What happened?" He stutters. "Car crash." I respond simply. "U-um, who do you live with n-now?" He asks me. A dumbass police officer who won't just mind her own damn business, I want to say.
I don't.
"They decided that, considering I'll be graduating in 4 months, there wasn't much point to being put in foster care. I have savings to use for tuition, and I'll be inheriting everything from my parents. But, for some reason, even though I'm 18, they required an officer be assigned to taking care of me." I explain, now realizing I have said much more than I needed to.
"Oh, well, I'm sorry." He apologizes. I look at him, confused. "Why?"
"Well, it must all be a lot for you. They were your parents, and now they're- well- dead. That must be heartbreaking. I can't imagine what you must be going through." He puts his hand over mine, sending me a sympathetic look. But, I take my hand away from his immediately.
"I don't need your sympathy. I'm fine. Everyone dies eventually, they would've too. It happens." I exclaim.
When I look at him, though, he's still giving me that disgusting little look.
"I'm fine." I tell him, grabbing my bag and going upstairs to my room. "W-wait, Frankie! I-" He starts.
"We need to start the project. We didn't do anything in class, and we're behind. We need to work." I shouted at him.
When I reach the top of the stairs, I look at him, only to see so much terror I hesitate for a second. "O-ok." He whispers.
Scoffing, I walk to my room and sit, beginning to work on the project. He sits beside me and pulls his notebooks out.
We need to work.
~•~