Friday, December 8, 2:21 PM

History Class

Lilly

Someone shoot me now.

Twice to be sure I'm dead.

"Many kids of your age do not appear to know this, mainly because they just don't care to hear it," Mr. Hollinger is saying as he walks slowly around the classroom, hands deep inside his pockets of his khaki pants. "But you should know that Russia was not always known as Russia. In fact, until 1991, it was known as the Soviet Union along with about 14 other countries. As a result of the 1917 Revolution…"

Zzzzzz, I'm texting to Katie, who is sitting on the opposite side of the room with Milly and Savannah. The latter has her head down on the desk, and the former is clearly struggling to keep her eyes open, head propped against her fist and constantly yawning. Katie, on the other hand, appears to be wide awake, clothes polished, hair neatly braided as usual.

She turns and grins at me before replying. IKR?

How r u still UP? I hold one palm of my hand up into the air as I look at her.

Within seconds, she replies, biting her lip lightly. Meh. IDK. Probably from looking at Phineas. She smiles slightly right afterwards and attempts to hide it.

I roll my eyes. U STILL luv him?

The blond blushes, and it's obvious since her hair is so light in comparison to the red on her cheeks. I do NOT love him.

Uh huh.

She scowls and shoots me a small glare. I DON'T. It's a stupid crush that I'm trying to get over, because I know Isabella's like madly in love w/ him. It's just hard, ok?

"Ahem."

Startled, I look up, and sure enough, there's Mr. Hollinger, no longer talking about crap and standing in the front of the room, frowning. Katie's eyes widen as he continues to talk, tone getting more sarcastic with every syllable.

"So…Lillian Carlson and Katherine Marquette. You are choosing to text in my classroom."

"Yep," I decide to reply, crossing my arms and shooting him a smug look. My phone is still proudly displayed on top of the desk. Katie shoots me an irritated glance, but I pretend not to see it.

"Do you girls know," Mr. Hollinger says slowly as he walks through the various aisles, taking turns between looking at me and at my friend. "What the school policy for cell phones is?"

Neither of us says anything. I know that with whatever answer I give him, he won't be satisfied, and Katie's too much of a good girl to mess up in front of a teacher. Frankly, I don't know how I even convinced her to text in class.

"Hold on." The whole class turns and stares at this one guy with wavy brown hair that sits in the center of the second row. "Isn't the school policy for cell phones to not have them out at all unless a teacher directly says it's okay?"

Whoa, hold on. Since when was he involved in this conversation? Plus, I don't think I've ever even seen him before. He's that kind of kid that never says anything, yet is like the smartest one in the class. I hate people like that, because it's like they don't even try compared to the rest of us. It's so unfair.

"Yes," Mr. Hollinger informs him, seeming to be as surprised as the rest of us. "Thank you… Darren." He returns his attention to Katie and I, or, in particular, me. Katie could not look more afraid right now. "Did I give either of you ladies permission to use your cell phones in my classroom?"

"No," Katie squeaks. Milly and Phineas are shooting her sympathetic looks, and I think Savannah is more asleep than a bear hibernating in winter right now.

"And I assume neither of you want to be kicked out of this classroom?"

"No-" Katie begins, but I interrupt her.

"Actually, I would love that."

The kids in class all react in some way. If they're like Phineas, then they just blink and wonder what in the world is going on because the event that is going on isn't positive and happy and cheerful. If they're like Katie and Milly, then they gasp and wonder why she said that. If they're like Savannah, which includes one other kid in the class, then their eyes open just a crack and they have forgotten where they even are. If they're like that smart kid that I already forget the name of, then they do nothing.

Mr. Hollinger raises his eyebrows high above his head, but before he can respond to my statement, the final bell of the day rings. He gives one final glare to both Katie and I as everyone starts to scurry around and get all of their stuff into their backpacks. "Don't think I'm done with the both of you," he threatens, jabbing his finger into my face.

Calmly, I move it away. "Back off, Bald Shirley." As I leave him gaping at me and then feeling his head, which is bald except for a few curls in random places on the sides of his head, I exit the room and wheel myself into the hallway, where my locker sits not too far away.

Katie, as soon as she leaves the room, immediately heads my way. Even before she makes it to me, she starts talking. "Are you insane?" she exclaims as I open the locker and quietly stick my books and stuff in there. I have English homework, but there's no way I'm doing that. I have far more important things to do. If testing out new makeup brands are important things to do, which in my case, they are. "Lilly, we could have been sent to the office for that!"

"Yeah," I snort, tossing my hair that keeps getting into my face over my shoulder. "Like I care. Teddy's lame when it comes to punishing, from what I've heard."

"Still." She shakes her head and sighs, hitching her backpack over her shoulder. Damn. She didn't even make a comment about what I just called the principal. "It was scary. And, well, I've got to get to my locker and make it to the bus on time. Dance class is an hour early today because we have to rehearse for this concert thing and-."

"Go, then." I'm getting tired of talking to her. When she starts rambling, I zone out and then fall asleep, which ticks her off. So now I just send her away when that happens. It works every time.

"Thanks." She scurries off, and I roll my eyes irritably as I slam the locker shut and shove my bag underneath my wheelchair. Turning it around, I don't even make it one inch farther when I've bumped into somebody. Again.

"What the hell," I mutter angrily before looking up. I blink when I realize that it's the awkward smart kid from my history class. When the kid doesn't even say anything after about ten seconds, I try scooting my chair forward. "Yo."

Finally, he glances down, and his eyes widen. "Oh, sorry," he says, moving over to allow me to pass through.

"Thank you." I begin to roll my wheelchair forward.

"Wait," he cuts in, stopping me by placing his hand on one of the arms of the chair. "So, uh, sorry about what I said in class. It might have come off as somewhat arrogant. I'm sorry."

"Puh-lease." I brush his comment off with a wave of my hand in the air and decide to keep moving forward slowly. So slowly and imperceptibly, he'll barely notice. "That was barely what you would call arrogant."

"Well, that's good. So, um…" He hesitates. "I don't think we've really had a conversation before. I've been meaning to talk with you lately, though."

I raise an eyebrow. "Says the person that's more quiet than two old people sitting at a table outside playing some random card game that are so highly concentrated in the said game that they aren't noticing all of the little kids by them that are trying to kill themselves in the nearby swimming pool."

Wavy Brown-Haired Kid frowns slightly, shuffling his feet a little bit. Of course, he's carrying his stuffed-full-of-homework backpack with him. Nerd. "Gosh. You're meaner than what people give you credit for."

I snort, still rolling my wheelchair ever so slowly. "Oh, come on. That wasn't mean at all. You should see the things I say to people sometimes."

"Whatever." He sighs and runs a hand through his hair. Clearly, he doesn't appreciate how I respond to people. How rude of him to think that way. "But as I was saying before you interrupted me, I wanted to talk with you about something. You know how Mr. Bear signed you up for tutoring since you were out of school for a month?" He looks at my wheelchair before looking back up at my face.

What? How does this guy know about that?

"Well, I'm your tutor." He says this in a smug tone.

Oh. Well…duh. Now I feel stupid. "Oh," I say after blinking and mentally smacking myself in the head. "All right, then."

"So…when do you want to meet for the first time? Basically…when are you available?"

I shrug, finally stopping the wheelchair and turning around to face him. "God, I don't know. I'm alwaysbusy. Unlike a majority of people in this school, I actually have a life outside of homework and studying. I know, it's so insanely shocking."

He rolls his eyes, and he mutters something under his breath that I can't understand. But I don't bother to question since I figure he'll just make up some kind of dumb excuse instead of the actual answer. "You know what?" he finally says after about a minute. "Why don't I just come to your place on a Saturday or something in a few weeks?"

"Whatever." Anything to get this guy to stop talking to me. "You want my phone number? And my address, I assume? Or are you just going to use some brilliant compass thing in your head that tells you exactly where to go at all times, because that's how all the smart people do it nowadays?"

He ignores my sarcasm and instead crosses his arms. "Actually…Mr. Bear gave both to me already. All I had to do was come talk to you, and oh, look at that. Now I am."

…I really do not know how to reply to what this guy just told me. "Uh…okay…"

"So I'll call you sometime, and we can schedule a time for us to meet so you can make up your work."

"Okay, great. Fantastic. Can I go now?" I'm aware of how rue I'm sounding, but I really don't give a crap.

He sighs. "Yeah. Go."

"Good." Right as I'm about to leave, however, I don't. Instead, I look back behind me, where he remains standing, and I decide to ask him something so I don't keep calling him the same thing in my head. Wavy Brown-Haired Kid is too long of a moniker. "Hey, by the way, what's your name again?"

His face brightens slightly, probably because I'm actually acknowledging his existence. He still has an annoyed look on his face, though. "It's Darren. And if you want to know my last name, it's Dowell. Just in case you have to look me up in the phone book or something."

Phone books still exist nowadays? I thought people stopped using those in like the nineteen seventies. "…Kay. Thanks." And finally, I spin that chair around and begin moving it towards the exit of the school specifically made for the handicapped. Even from here, the far end of the hallway across from that door, I can see my uncle's car parked right against the curb. He won't be in there for a few more minutes, though. He finally returned to work here as a music teacher about two weeks ago, and teachers have to stay until this certain time of the day every day. I don't really care about waiting a little longer, though. For once, my uncle Don is actually in a good mood. And I'm happy about that.

By the way…yes, we have gotten a new car since the accident, just in case you didn't already assume that. And yes. It has a handicapped section.

The Schumacher Residence, 6:35 PM

Savannah

Oh, great. Mom's using the phone. She hates using the cell phone we have, because every time we use it, we have to pay a fee because the company we get it from is stupid. This can't be good.

"Mmm-hmm," I hear her mutter as I slowly sit myself down at the table, where some grilled cheese sandwiches and bowls full of tomato soup are sitting. "I see. Yes, I will talk with her about it. Thanks for calling." She turns the phone off and faces me, and I quickly start eating and acting like I've done it for a while. She doesn't stop looking at me though, and after about a minute, I sigh and finish swallowing.

"What?" I wonder.

Mom sighs before taking a seat next to me at the little, round table we have and grabbing a half of a sandwich. "That was your principal," she informs me, dipping it into the soup that more than likely came from a can. "Apparently, he received a complaint from your history teacher stating that you fell asleep in his class."

"What?" I groan, not caring that there's still food in my mouth. "He saw that?"

She ignores me. "And since he was dealing with two other girls in the class at the time, he didn't want to interfere with you. So he told the principal, who had to call me about it."

I hate when she makes me feel bad like this. "Well…sorry…"

"I know you are." She sighs. "But Savannah, you can't fall asleep in class, all right? I don't care if it's boring for you. You need to know the material, and-"

"Why?" I interrupt, beginning to frown as I dip the spoon into the soup. "Why do I need to know that material? It's not like we can afford to send me to go to college. You yourself told me that I could work for your business thing in the future if it's successful after this year."

Yes. She actually did say that. And I, for some reason, accepted to do so.

"Well, yeah." She shrugs. "But that doesn't mean you shouldn't do well in school."

"Whatever."

"But you reminded me." Mom stands up and walks over to this little basket on the counter, where we keep all of our papers and important information. "I got some info on the family you're staying at next summer."

Oh. Right. I almost forgot that I was actually participating in this thing before I could start working for it. I make a face when I know that she can't see it since her head is practically jammed inside of the basket.

"Let's see…where is that paper?" She rustles through some more papers before finally holding one up. "There it is." Walking back over to the table, she places the paper in front of me and continues to talk as I pretend to read it. "It's a five-person family, and all of them are at least in their teens. Remember, one of them, also a teenaged girl, is coming out here for the summer similar to the way it will work for you."

Well, at least it means I have to deal with one less stranger. That's a good thing.

"There's two other teenaged girls, one your age and one a little younger. They also have an older brother who just…doesn't have anywhere else to go. And they have a mom."

I scratch the top of my head. I'm already kind of confused, and this was barely any information. "Does this have…names or anything about them or whatever? That would be kind of helpful to know." Because if I'm going to live with random people I don't want to live with for a whole summer miles away from Danville, then I kind of want to know what they're like before I get there. Even if I won't get there for another six and a half months.

"Oh…right." She adjusts her seat in the chair, looking somewhat sheepish. "Here. Their surname is Reid, but the mother prefers to be called Cass. Apparently, she's a writer, and a bestselling one, too." Her face brightens. "How nice. It's what I wanted to be as a kid."

Well, look how far that got you, I think, but decide not to say out loud. "Cool," I say instead even though I don't mean it.

"They don't provide much information about the kids, though. One of the girls is Cheyenne, and she's your age, and the other is Melanie, who is sixteen. The guy is…Reed, and he is twenty-three-"

"Whoa, hold up," I interrupt. "This guy's name is Reed Reid?" I snort. "How pathetic."

She smiles as I try not to snicker and fail at doing so. "It was his father's idea. I wondered about that too, so I asked Cass about it. Apparently, he dared Cass to put it on his birth certificate, and sure enough, she did." Her smile falters a little. "They're divorced now."

"Yeah, I kind of figured that." I take my last bite of my sandwich.

"So, yeah, that's all of the information they gave me. Cass and I are still communicating now, and she says that everyone's excited about having you there."

I raise an eyebrow. "They're excited to have me there? What's so great about me?"

She narrows her eyes at me. "Don't get acerbic in your tone, Savannah," she warns. "They really are. Apparently, their town is kind of small, so to have anyone new come is just a new thing. They really are happy this is happening, honey."

I bite my lip and decide not to respond, instead picking at my soup with my spoon. It's starting to get cold; I can tell from the way there isn't any more steam coming out of it. Mom suddenly realizes what she has said, and her tone softens. "Look, honey, I realize I should have talked to you about this before committing you to it. I know you don't want to be away from your friends right before a majority of them leave for school, but…it's a little late now."

Gee, thanks, Mom. Thanks for all of your sympathy. "It's not like most of them will notice I'm gone, anyway," I mutter.

"What?"

"Nothing," I sigh, still playing with the soup. It's now starting to smell weird, too, and I wrinkle my nose.

"Savannah." Now it's her turn to sigh. She tries to reach over and grab my hand, but I don't let her, shoving my hand into the pocket out of my gray hoodie. I hate it when people touch me for reasons I don't like to say, and my mom knows it. "Honey, please. I know you're upset that I brought that up again, the whole exchange thing, but I was hoping you would sort of change your view about it-"

"Well, guess what," I interject, now rising from the table. "You didn't."

Her face falls. "I just…I don't know," she falters, beginning to blink repeatedly. "I figured you would be happy for me, starting this business and finally getting us out of frickin' poverty. But you're not-"

"Mom." She stops talking, and I take a step closer to her and rest my hands on her shoulder blades, staring into her brownish-green hazel eyes. "I am happy for you. What I'm not happy about is having to do something for it that I really don't want to do."

"I know." She bites the inside of her cheek. "And I'm sorry. But there's nothing I can do about it now."

"I know, Mom," I moan, sitting back down at the table. "Quit telling me stuff like that I already know. It's irritating, not to mention kind of…oh, I know. Irritating."

"Did you just say that twice?"

"Mom."

"What?" She looks offended. "What did I do wrong this time?"

"Nothing, Mom. Okay?" God, she's frustrating when she wants to be. I roll my eyes and then look down at our plates. They are now completely clean except for a few stray crumbs. "Can I go now?"

She sighs for the umpteenth time in the past ten minutes. "Yeah."

"Thank you."

I only have to walk a few feet to get to my tiny bedroom, but even though my tiny bedroom has the thinnest walls ever invented and a really shabby carpet (which really shows how expensive our apartment was), it's still a lot better than being around my mom all of the time.

Believe me…if you were me, you would think the exact same thing. But at least it's better than still being around the bastard I used to call my dad.

And that's another story for another time.

Next Chapter Preview: Adyson confronts Django about how he's been avoiding her. Phineas gives a long rant to Ferb about something that you may be surprised about.

Yep. Savannah has problems with her mom, too.

I'm surprised more of you guys haven't wondered more about Savannah and her whole story. Probably because she doesn't appear nearly as often as some of the other characters. But the reason for that is because as you know already, I'm writing a story about her time in the exchange program after I finish this one, and it's all from her perspective, so I don't want to put too much focus on her in this story. Make sense? Cool.

And now we've met Lilly's new tutor. He kind of reminds me of this one guy I know…in fact, yeah, I can say Darren is slightly based off of him. Quiet, yet kind of cocky…ahem. Anyway. So I have to wonder just how this whole tutoring thing is going to go for the two of them. Maybe one day, they won't resent each other the way they do now. Who knows, right?