Pop Quiz Conversation

I consult my timetable for the day, and my heart simultaneously rises and sinks at the sight of triple chemistry. One-hundred and fifty glorious minutes of chemistry in Zach's glorious company.

Yay.

I trudge up the stairs to first period English, wishing I had the same slot with Michaela. As the timetable is split into a weekly cycle of week A and week B, last week's lessons didn't even include English. I mostly just had a lots of maths, psychology and art, which were of course a joy to experience.

I finally arrive outside the door and push it open, accustomed now to the interested looks. Luckily, they've been reducing in number. I quickly scan the room for a familiar face and do a double take when I see Adam sat at a desk near the front. The rather small single desks are arranged in rows, so I make my way through the maze towards him. The vivid-haired girl from the diner is sat on the desk next to his, and as the one on his other side is taken, I drop into the one behind.

"Psst. Adam." He doesn't hear me, probably because of the constant buzz of conversation going on, and I swat the back of his head.

He whips his head around. A smile forms on his face when he sees it's just me, and he brings his hand to his head dramatically. "That was a little violent, Cammie."

"Sorry," I say, a little regretfully. "Where's the teacher?"

"Oh, she'll be here in a second. Miss Evelyn is great – she's the only teacher here who's ever on time. She just went out to get the exercise books."

The purple-haired girl who I can't for the life of me remember the name of, leans towards us.

"Hi, Cammie. Adam's told me a lot about you," she says lightly. Her hair is arranged in an artful mess of spiky, choppy layers twisted up with an assortment of grips, and I admire the effect.

"I hope it's been good things," I say teasingly, while feeling a little nervous he's told his friends about me. He ducks his head and takes up great interest in the square of laminate flooring by his shoe, and I let out a small laugh, before saying quickly, "It wasn't anything embarrassing, right?"

He looks back up at me and rolls his eyes. "'Course not."

I face the girl again. "Hey, what's your name? I definitely remember reading your name tag at the diner, but I have the worst memory for things like that," I say apologetically. "Begins with B, right?"

"It's Blue," she says.

"Like the colour?" I ask blankly, before it dawns on me that 'Blue' probably isn't her actualy name. "Oh, is that a nickname?"

"Does blue mean anything else?" she asks, her tone a shade cooler. "My name's Blue."

"Oh!" I say, feeling heat creep up my face. Good going, Cammie. I can see Adam sniggering to himself, obviously used to the amount of people who say something like I just said and obviously amused by Blue's response, but that only serves to make my face heat up more. Why can I not seem to do anything right in this town?

"Sorry! It's a pretty name," I try to amend.

She shrugs. "Don't work yourself up over it. I'm used to the disbelief that people seem to have when I tell them I'm named after a colour."

"Well, people always think I'm a boy before they see me," I offer. "Once, I had to go to some fancy dinner for my dad's firm, and they called out for Mr. Cameron Morgan to announce the next prize-winner. You can imagine their surprise when he turned up in purple gown and heels," I say.

They both laugh.

"When I dyed my hair for the first time, people were always surprised I went for violet and not some shade of blue," Blue tells me. "I mean seriously, how unoriginal would that be?"

"Quite a bit, I think," I laugh. "Your hair looks great, though," I say, a little enviously. I wish I had the sort of courage to go all out like that with my hair. Unfortunately, I don't even dare go near a lightening shampoo, let alone bleach or hair dye – I'm just too much of a wimp.

"Thanks," she says warmly.

The teacher, a short woman with dangly earrings and waist-length curls held back by a beaded headband, finally arrives, carrying a stack of bright yellow note books. She staggers over to her desk at the front of the room and piles them on the corner of it, before grabbing another pile of books. She walks around the class and hands out the book we'll be studying: Daphne Du Maurier's 'Rebecca'. When I see the cover, I smile to myself – this is one of my favourites.

She walks back to the front and smiles at everyone. "Welcome back, class! As I told you at the end of last year, this year we will be studying 'Rebecca'. Anyone in here read it?"

Hesitantly, I raise my hand, but surprisingly, I'm not the only one. Adam, looking around at me a little abashed, raises his hand too, along with Blue and a few others. All in all, I'm impressed.

The teacher's gaze hones in on me first, probably because I was the first one to put my hand up.

"Hello, dear. I don't think you've been in my class before? I'm Miss Evelyn."

"Cammie," I reply, giving her a small smile.

She looks happy that I've read it, and asks, "Can you tell me what you thought of the book? Any facts, interesting things you liked?"

I look around the room a little nervously, aware of the heads turned to look at me while I ponder my answer. "Um, well… I think it's really intriguing how we never know what the narrator's name is," I suggest uncertainly.

"Yes!" she replies enthusiastically. "That's an excellent point." She turns to face the rest of the class as she continues. "Throughout the course of the book, we do not once hear the true name of the narrator, the main character, the young woman. She is only ever known as Mrs de Winter. Even the name of the book is after, for want of a better phrase, 'The Other Woman' – not her. Can anyone tell me why this might be?"

This time, it's Adam who answers. "It reinforces the idea that Mrs de Winter is in the shadow of Rebecca, Maxim de Winter's first wife. She feels like Rebecca is her ghost, haunting her over replacing her, constantly there in everything. I guess you could say she's jealous."

Miss Evelyn smiles. "Exactly, yes, yes. I am glad a lot of you have read it already. It truly is a book you must read – all of you who haven't read it, shame on you all! But thankfully, they let me teach it this year. Last year it was 'Great Expectations', and although I love that novel to bits, nothing beats teaching you lovelies 'Rebecca'. How about we start reading. You all know I'm a firm believer in reading as a class: who wants to start?" She looks over us all expectantly, before her eager gaze lands on some.

No prizes for guessing that that someone was me.

xxxxx

The time has come for the subject created by the devil himself.

Chemistry.

As I take out my stuff, I glance over at the door to see Bex and Liz walk in. We didn't get to catch each other at break (it's like two minutes long, I am so making the student body leader complain), and so I wave over at them as they come to my lab bench.

"Hey, Cam," Bex greets. "What did you have this morning?"

"English Lit.," I reply. "How about you guys?"

I direct my question at both of them, but Liz is looking over her shoulder absent-mindedly and Bex answers.

"Maths," she groans. "And Liz had history."

I wave a hand in front of Liz's face. "Hello? Earth to Liz?"

She spins her head around so fast I'm surprised she doesn't crick her neck, and looks at me sheepishly. "Sorry, I was just looking for, uh…"

I smirk knowingly, sharing a glance with Bex. "Jonas?"

She goes red. "Of course not! Possibly. Fine, yes," she sighs, caving.

"Knew it," Bex says smugly.

They go off to their places, just a few moments before Zach enters with Jonas. Instantly, my senses are on high-alert, and I try to refrain from glancing up at him as he sits down in his seat next to mine. Instead, I take out all my felt-tips – my inner child is still ridiculously proud of their almost perfect condition – and proceed to sorting them into rainbow order. It strikes me that I probably look like a complete neat freak, but I need to take my mind off the eyes I can feel on me, so pen sorting it is.

As expected but foolishly ignored, this proves difficult.

"What, no hello? And there I was thinking we'd moved past the 'I'm going to ignore you' stage."

Out of the corner of my eye, I can see him frowning at me, obviously annoyed I didn't dignify him with a response. And then, suddenly, his tanned hand darts out, pinching the turquoise pen I just placed next to the light blue one. He twirls it between his fingers, twisting it out of my reach. I don't even bother to get it back, unable to muster the energy to engage in something as stupid as this, and let out a long breath. I align the pens before getting another one, this time dark blue.

Even this, I can't do without being interrupted.

"You can't put dark blue after light blue! That place belongs to the turquoise!" He says this very indignantly, as if I'm doing him a personal wrong by putting the dark blue next to the light blue.

I gently place my (slightly beloved) pen on the desk and sigh.

"Zach, what are you doing?"

"What do you mean, what am I doing?" he asks confusedly.

"Give me my pen back, please."

"Nope."

"Why?"

"Because you were ignoring me."

"How old are you?" I mutter exasperatedly.

"Eighteen years and two months. Probably a few weeks and days as well, but I haven't worked those out."

"Right," I say slowly. "Pen?"

He hands me the pen.

Dr. Steve walks in just as he open his mouth to say something else.

"Good morning class!" He scrawls something on the board and then strolls around the room, handing out a thick looking booklet.

"I hope you've all revised. It's pop quiz time!"

There is a collective groan around the room, and I am one of the first to start the protestations, but he silences us with a wave of his arm and grins. "It's all part of the learning process, boys and girls."

When he hands me the booklet, I give him the sweetest, fakest smile I can muster. Damn pop quizzes. Teachers only give them when they can't be bothered to plan a lesson.

The words he scrawled on the board were actually the start and finish times for the quiz, and I see that we have forty minutes to answer forty-three questions.

"Okay, chop-chop! The marks you get on these will be recorded, just so you're all aware, so try your hardest. Time starts now."

The rustle of everyone turning the first page can be heard, and then the soft sounds of pen across paper and the odd whisper or quickly stifled sneeze. I read the first question; it's about isotopes and radiation, the topic we covered last lesson, and I struggle to recall the information. He gave us questions that lesson, too! Does he just expect us to do worksheets and tests all the time?

I notice Zach staring at his test paper, motionless, his eyebrows drawn. He's looking at the paper as if it's offended him somehow.

I feel like I should say something, and although we seem to have come to an unspoken agreement not to talk about the diner, I still feel like I need to thank him for it. "Um, you okay?" I whisper.

He sighs, running a hand through his already luxuriously messy hair. "I can't do it," he says, voice completely flat.

I pause awkwardly, glancing towards the front of the room to check Dr. Steve hasn't heard us. The coast is clear, so I reply.

"Do you, uh, want me to help you?" I ask apprehensively. I shouldn't really be feeling this nervous, but he seems suddenly very different from a few minutes ago.

"No," he says curtly. "I don't need your help." The way he says it makes heat creep up my neck, crawling onto my cheeks, and I wince slightly. He put emphasis on the 'you', as if I am not someone he wants to associate himself with. What confuses me is how he was acting a little while ago, light and teasing. Now, he's angry and rude. Bipolar? A possibility.

I'm annoyed with myself for being hurt by his simple refusal. I raise my eyebrows, hopefully succeeding in giving him an unimpressed look. Unfortunately, I don't think I quite pull it off, what with the pink cheeks and all, and this only serves to anger me further.

"Alright," I say coolly.

I go back to my paper, still feeling the heat on my face, fuelled by my irritation. I'm inexplicably angry, even though something as small as this really shouldn't get me so bothered. I scribble down a few answers; the sight of his hand as he writes his name languorously at the top of his page makes me grip my pen tightly in my hand. I take a calming breath.

After about ten minutes, he tries speaking to me again.

"Hey, Curtains."

"Curtains."

"Cammie."

"Cameron."

I squeeze my eyes shut. "What?"

"Sorry," he says sheepishly.

I turn to him incredulously, almost forgetting to whisper. "Excuse me? You're saying sorry after just embarrassing me like that? How can you go from two opposite ends of the personality spectrum in about five seconds? What is wrong with you?" I breathe heavily, feeling the irritation still swirling in my veins.

"Woah, woah, woah. Calm down."

"Calm down? Who do you think you are?" Okay, I think I do need to calm down. I'm getting a little worked up here. However, this seems to be another one of those 'mind can't catch up to the mouth spewing stupidity' moments. And things are set to become a little tense if I can't shut up soon.

"Just shut up, will you? I tried helping you but you completely blew me off, and now you probably want to copy my answers again. It's not my fault you're a typical, stupid jock. Let me guess, home issues? Parents? Gotta get into college on a sports scholarship, or no college at all? Yeah, I've heard it all before."

I flinch as I finish my rant. Now that I've said it, I can't take a word of it back, no matter how much I wish I could. I couldn't stop. I already knew that he has home issues – there was no need for me to say something like that. Every bitter and angry feeling I've had this past week has come pouring out, and all of it has been directed at Zach: my parents leaving me on my own here, Penelope humiliating me, Zach reaching out to Penelope after, Zach at the diner… By the look on his face, I'm not incorrect in thinking that I went too far. I'd obviously hit a nerve when I mentioned his parents, and college. There's something there, and I just unwittingly prodded it awake.

His face has gone completely blank. His eyes are the only window into what he might be thinking – normally so bright and teasing, they're murky, deep and furious.

"Don't presume to understand a thing about me, Cammie. Don't you dare," he says, voice so low I have to strain to catch it. I am unable to believe I've just been so vicious – that isn't me. Why did if fly off the handle like that? "You don't know anything," he growls.

"I-I'm sorry," I say miserably. "I don't know why I said that. I'm sorry, Zach. I didn't… I didn't mean it." At least, I think I didn't. I bite my lip anxiously.

"Save it," he replies tersely. "Just save it, Cammie."

A/N Ooooh, Zammie fight. I don't even know what happened, lol. It's planned, but things got a little more heated than expected! Sorry for the delay in updating, but I have four exams next week and I had a load of revision to get through, on top of absurd amounts of homework. Hope you liked this chapter though! Tell me what you thought. I hope you liked Blue - I love her!

ALSO:

I have a favour to ask of you all. My friend, lovewords, has posted her very own Wattpad story! I know a fair few of you read her stories on here, so you'll support me when I say she's an amazing writer. So go check it out! You won't regret it! It's called 'His Polaroid Girl'.

childofhecate: Yes! It will hopefully be very dramatic.

GallagherGirls13BYE: Thank you so much, that's so nice of you! Hehe, I'm so glad you like how it's going. It makes me so happy! Love you too! xxx

Selena: Thank you! Haha, Zach has been very horrible, yes. I need to make him sweet soon or else everyone will hate him! And yes, I agree! Jump off that cliff, Alana and Penelope, and Cammie will be waiting for ya. Hope you liked this!

gabergirl: Thank you! I really like writing the background-y stuff, and I think it helps understand the story more? I'm glad it's not boring! And typical Cammie, forgetting the fries.

BooksLover2000: Thank you so much! You're too kind. Ah, it was a little awks. I wonder what you'll think of this chapter.

HippieGuru: Thank youuuuu! Mrs Jones sounds a little odd, haha. What does she teach? And I know! It'd be so good if emojis worked. I like the new ones, but you're right, some of them are so pointless. I'm sorry for making you wait so long for this chapter, but I hope you liked it! And thank you again! P.S. gosh, I could not deal with it being that warm every day. Yoou're hardcore for even being able to survive it. I love warm weather, but when it gets a little too much, I'm pretty much a goner.

Showmethezammie: Thank you! I'm sorry for the negative Zammie in this chapter! And the not so soon update. But I hope you liked it all the same! I cannot wait for Zach hopefully dumping Penelope once and for all.

LifeIsGoode: Thank you! Haha, just go with it. I feel like this story is going to be stupidly unbelievable at times. Luv ya too!

NYC Dream: Thank you so much! That is amazing! Thank you!

BrownEyedSmirker: Haha, that's actually so funny. The steak... Penelope's cousin... that is gold. Love it! Thank you so much! I found Jonas poking the steak pretty funny too. You can't trust Cammie when it comes to cooking. And yes, I agree!

lovewords: Thank you so much! I'm sorry for updating late... again. Yes, I was hoping for a little more depth, glad you like it! MUAHAH, you just gonna have to wait to see what has happened between everyone, it all just is a bit weird and I don't know where it came from, but boy, am I excited to write it. And I'll definitely let you shave Penny's head. And of course, Adam can be alllll yours ;) Hope you liked this chapter! And I NEED MORE LOVE LETTERS. *innocent smile* Blue is perf, I love her.

Thank you for all your reviews! :)