Hollybridge Height Food Court Menu
Compiled by Cee-Cee Webb
Monday: Potato Bar, Burrito, Fish Stix, Buffalo Bites
Tuesday: Curly Fries, Indiv. Pizza, Corndogs, Meatball Sub
Wednesday: Soup, Salad Bar, Grilled Cheese, Spicy Chix
Thursday: Bean Bar, Chicken Parm., Taco Salad Bar, Fish Fingers
Friday: Chicken Pattie, Soft Pretzel, Pasta Bar, Tuna salad
Saturday/Sunday: Leftovers
Chapter Two
Susannah followed me into the lab in a bit of a daze. I don't think she was expecting Paul Slater to be our teacher for the next semester. I think she was thinking more along the lines of him being her potential lab partner for the semester. She sat down in front of me and put her Social Studies textbook on the desk.
"Querida?" I said, leaning forwards to speak in her ear. "I think you have the wrong textbook."
"Give me yours!" she hissed urgently, and I reluctantly surrendered mine. She gave me a dazzling smile and blew me a kiss. I sighed. The torch I held for her was just too bright.
The charming and charismatic Paul Slater strode into the classroom – making most of the girls in the room swoon – and dropped his briefcase and clipboard onto the desk with a clatter. He clasped his hands together to get everyone's attention – not that he needed to. Every eye was on him.
"O.K, first thing's first," he declared, pacing from either side of the classroom, examining his students with a critical eye. "Does anyone not have a textbook?"
I looked at the empty space on my desk and put up my hand ashamedly. I had brought my correct equipment to my lessons every day since kindergarten. If only Susannah knew what power she had over me.
"Ah!" Slater cried, spotting me and waltzing over to my desk. "Jesse…" He scanned his list. "…De Silva. Mr De Silva, that's a violation of rule number 7, I believe? 'Arrive on time to each lesson fully equipped.' Detention, today after your day's lessons." I scowled as a yellow slip of paper floated mockingly onto my desk, with my name scribbled in blood-red ink and the room number I needed to go to at 2: 35. I picked it up and slotted it into my folder out of sight. Susannah turned around and mouthed "I'm sorry." I just glared at her.
"O.K, then." Paul Slater moved on swiftly, and picked up a pen to write on the whiteboard with. His writing was scrawny and messy, I could barely read it. He finished with a flourish, and drew a diagonal line underneath it to emphasise the word.
EVOLUTION
"Who can tell me what I mean by 'evolution'?"
My hand rose into the air, automatically, and I sorted out my words carefully in my mind. I wouldn't give him an excuse to chastise me. I'd have every word perfect, and that would show him that I wasn't the type to get detention. I'd show him I didn't deserve that black mark on my record.
But instead, he asked Susannah, who – to my surprise – also had her hand up. She recited every word exactly, at super-speed. "In biology, evolution is the change in the inherited traits of a population from generation to generation." My mouth dropped open at hearing her say the words I had arranged in my head. Obviously she had memorized them from my notes last night.
"Great!" Slater looked impressed. "Now, do I give you a gold star or something for that?" The females of the class erupted into false laughter, batting their eyelashes and fanning themselves with various slips of paper – despite it being cool indoors as well as outdoors.
Susannah smiled. "No," she replied. "A 'Great!' was all I needed." Paul grinned, and then turned around to write on the board exactly what she had said.
"Copy it down," he ordered the class, and everyone fumbled for their pens to scribble hurriedly. I wrote it down leisurely, not needing to refer back to the board to check if it was right; I knew I was right. I wondered, however, if Susannah could successfully translate it into basic English.
"Who can tell me what a complete set of genes within an organism's genome is called?" Slater asked, though I could see his eyes were directed towards Susannah already.
"It's called its genotype," I called aloud, and he frowned.
"Mr De Silva," he said, striding gallantly towards me with a sneer. "Was that or was that not a violation of rule number 5 : 'raise your hand when asking or answering a question'?"
"Yes," I bowed my head and ground my teeth before finishing my sentence. "…sir."
"Well done, Mr De Silva," he replied coldly. "Your reward is an extra hour of detention after school. Cherish it."
I chewed my tongue to stop myself retorting, and he wandered away smirking. "I think Miss Simon ought to teach you a lesson or two, De Silva." I nearly exploded. Susannah teach me a lesson or two? I'd been doing most of her schoolwork since tenth grade. His instant infatuation with her infuriated me, and he knew it.
The bell rang through the lab, easing some of the irritation I felt. I pushed all of my schoolwork into my bag and left the room as quickly as I could. For a change, it was me waiting for Susannah. She surfaced at last, deep in flirtatious conversation with our teacher. She smiled at me and linked our arms, and we walked away, Paul giving me a contemptous wink.
Jerk.
"Paul has asked me to meet him for lunch," Susannah told me excitedly, whilst we waited for our Social Studies teacher to show. "'Coz, you know, he's new? He wants a tour of the cafeteria – but the cafeteria isn't that big. Why would he need a tour?"
"Do you really need me to explain this, querida?" I asked her, and I took a sip from my bottled water. "Professor Slater is not on my list of favourite people right now." I took another sip. It didn't seem to do much use for my dry throat, though.
"Can you come along, Jess?" Susannah begged me, holding onto my arm and blinking her emerald eyes up into my face. "I mean, he might need some one to tell him the exact chemical compound of coleslaw." She laughed at her own joke, whilst I merely scowled.
"Fine, I'll come along," I answered, surrendering. "But only because I think its wise all of Paul Slater's activities involving you should be chaperoned." She turned pink, and pulled me by the hand into the classroom, where she handed me my biology textbook.
"Thanks for the lend," she said. I sighed, and slotted it into my bag between my English Literature assignment and my biology notes. "I'm sorry I got you detention."
I didn't answer, and instead got out my seat to turn down the lights for our professor. She seemed to have an certain soft spot for me – in fact, most of the female teachers did. Susannah insisted it was my boyish charm. I think she says this just to make me blush.
Lunchtime rolled around too quickly, and soon enough I was being yanked eagerly by Susannah towards the canteen, where I was greeted with repugnant smells, and even worse – the scornful expression of Paul Slater, who was leaning nonchalantly against the wall.
"I had no idea I'd have the pleasure of meeting Mr De Silva again before the end of the day," he said, dryly. "I had thought I'd have Miss Simon all to myself."
"Then you thought wrong," I replied, clipping all of my syllables. If you think I'd let her within ten metres alone with you, you're insane, I added mentally. "Shall we go into the canteen to see what creative surprise they have in store for us this lunchtime?"
I laced Susannah's fingers with my protectively, but she shook me off, and instead took hold of Paul's arm as they examined the Fish Stix suspiciously. A spark of jealousy fizzled low in my stomach, and I kept an eye on them the whole time we sat down and ate. I barely touched my potato salad.
"I'll be seeing you later, De Silva," Paul said warningly, as he waggled his fingers at Susannah. "Bye-bye, Miss Simon." Susannah swooned and smiled at me girlishly once he had left.
"Isn't he fantastic?" she asked me excitedly, as we made our way to English Literature. "He talks about so much interesting stuff."
"Oh yes," I said, sarcastically. "The detailed account of how he modelled topless for a British magazine was just riveting. I wish it had lasted even longer than the twenty minutes it had." Susannah didn't even notice my disdain. She was too high on Paul Slater's presence.
English Literature was a blur. I was too distracted by Susannah's animated whispering about our new Biology professor that I couldn't concentrate of the effect of Steinbeck's descriptions, and I kept contradicting myself in my analysis of his work. I stabbed my pen angrily into my notebook. He wasn't just making Biology lessons miserable. He had managed to ruin my entire school day.
It seemed like only minutes had flown by since lunchtime, and now I was wearily making my way to room 201 – a Science lab – for my detention with my new favourite person. I glanced at my watch: it read 2: 33pm. My feet hurriedly along the gravel. God knew it wouldn't do me any good if I arrived late.
I made it to 201 at 2:36, and I pushed the door open, satisfied. I sat down at a front desk and dropped my bag to the floor. Paul hadn't looked up from his book, and said crisply "You're late." I chose not to argue.
"I've been checking out your file, De Silva," he informed me, and he set aside his book. "It seems on the exterior you're the perfect student. Not one B – straight As as far as the eye can see – and a high score on your SATs. What it neglects to mention, however, is the fact that you participate in no extra-curriculars whatsoever, and that you have a tendency to disregard the rules."
"I was President of my Science Club," I disputed, and Paul cut me off.
"Do you want another hour of detention, De Silva?" he asked me, and I lowered my head, a muscle leaping in my jaw. He was purposefully winding me up like a clock, seeing how far I could twist. I linked my fingers together tensely, refusing to let him get to me. "I'll take that as a no."
He walked from either side of the lab, a habit that was quickly beginning to irritate me. I pulled a notepad from my bag and began writing my name over and over again to pass the time.
Jesse De Silva Jesse De Silva Jesse De Silva Jesse De Silva Jesse De Silva Jesse De Silva Jesse De Silva Jesse De Silva Jesse De Sil-
Paul snatched the pen from my hand and snapped it, dropping the plastic to the floor and creating a small pool of blue ink. "Tell me, Jesse-" He said my name like it was some fatal disease. "What can you tell me about Susannah Simon?"
"What do you want to know?" I retorted. "The fact that she's a Scorpio, for example, or the fact that she refuses to use straighteners after she received a burn on her left index finger on her seventeenth birthday?" Paul grinned.
"You sure do know a lot about your friend-" Again, the emphasis on the word suggested he actually thought it something else. "But really, all I need to know is whether she has a boyfriend, seeing as the two of you are apparently not a couple."
"Rule number ten," I spat, my fingers stiff on the edge of my desk. "'There will be no teacher-student relationships at Hollybridge Heights'. Or haven't you gotten that far yet?"
"Jumping to conclusions won't get you anywhere," Paul said smoothly, twisting a piece of magnesium around his fingers. "I'm only making conversation."
"Then it would be no interest to you that Susannah is single?" I asked. "And plans to remain so until the perfect man comes along?"
"And that perfect man would be you?" he sneered. "Poor, poor Jesse. Nice guys finish last. I would have thought an A-student would know that."
"Her favourite colour is green," I said, poignantly. "Only a nice guy would know that."
"Not anymore," Paul replied, deridingly. "I'm not a nice guy, Jesse. Nice guys can't get what they want."
"Then if you're not a nice guy," I said warningly, standing up to demonstrate my point. "Then I suggest you stay away from Susannah."
We were nose-to-nose, both glaring dangerously into each other's eyes. Finally, he spoke, yet only in a quiet whisper. "Detention over. Get out."
"Gladly," I said, and I collected my bag from under the table, and left without a word. It seemed I had acquired an extra-curricular activity after all. But this wouldn't be one that would be any use to my transcript.
This would be one to save the woman I loved.