Chapter Three

It was Monday morning and I had chosen my clothes carefully. Jeans that were worn but not too worn. A button down fitted top that I stole from Raven while she was at work. On my feet were my signature Chuck Taylors that had definitely seen better days.

I was standing at my locker when Jack came up and leaned against the lockers next to mine. I glanced up at him and blushed, so I said, "Hey."

"What's up?" he asks.

"Not much you?"

"Not much. I dreamt of Luke last night."

"So did I." His face darkened as I said that so I quickly add, "It was actually Luke, you know." His face lightens a bit so I finish with, "He dressed as Luke Skywalker. He even had a light saber."

Jack laughs and says, "He was wearing it when I saw him."

"Yeah, it was hilarious. I dreamt up myself a light saber and well I'm sure you can think of what Luke wanted to do then."

"Yeah I'm sure," Jack says. He has an uncomfortable look on his face.

"What did you guys do?" I ask.

"Umm, we talked…about you, mostly," he says quietly.

"Oh, well we talked about you too," I say trying to erase that look of unease on his face.

Jack smiles and says, "Shall I walk you to history?" I nod so he reaches down and takes my hand. We walk in silence until he says, "I was, um, wondering if you wanted to, you know, go out sometime."

We stop walking as he waits for my answer. I would live to," I say with a shy smile.

Jack smiles and gently presses his lips to mine. I blush slightly as someone whistles at us. We break apart and Jack says, "Good, I'll pick you up at 7 on Friday."

"Okay…wait when did you get your license?" I ask.

"A little while ago," he replies and we walk into history just as the bell rings. I'm smiling like an idiot when a piece of paper bounces off my head and falls onto my desk. I pick it up and straighten out the paper. It says why are you smiling like an idiot? F

I write back telling her about Jack asking me out and toss it back. She looks up, gives me a smile and a very excited thumbs-up. She furiously scribbles something and tosses it back. She wrote: You have to let me help you get ready! She underlined the word 'have' at least five times.

I smile and nod to her; just as our teacher, he insists we call him 'Sergeant', says, "I can see two people who don't think history is very important." He looks very pointedly at Fiona and me. I feel my face burn as everyone turns to look at us. "What's so interesting?"

"Uh, nothing," I say crushing the note under my hand. Fiona nods her head vigorously.

"Please pay attention then," Sergeant says while Fiona and I mumble assurances that it won't.