On particularly bad days when I'm sure I can't possibly endure, I like to remind myself that my track record for getting through bad days is 100%, and that's pretty good. - Unknown

As we arrived at school about ten minutes early, Jon and I strolled down the hallway towards our lockers. The fluorescent lights buzzed above us, and the sound of chatter and laughter filled the air—a familiar cacophony that signalled the start of another school day.

I caught a glimpse of Damon at the end of the hall, his dark hair falling over his eyes as he rummaged through his locker. "Hey, I'm going to go talk to him for a sec," I told Jon.

He nodded, stopping at our lockers as I made my way towards Damon. But just before I reached him, Kirsty walked by with her usual glare fixed on her face. It was always directed towards me, but this time it seemed aimed at Damon.

"What was that all about?" I asked him, curious.

Damon continued searching through his locker without looking up. "What was what?"

"That look between you and Kirsty. She seemed upset."

Damon shrugged nonchalantly. "It's nothing."

"Really? Because it didn't seem like nothing when I saw you two arguing yesterday in the parking lot."

He finally met my gaze and sighed. "Look, Kirsty was just talking to me about an assignment we have together."

I raised an eyebrow skeptically. "An assignment? It looked pretty intense for just an assignment."

Damon hesitated before responding, "She's worried about her GPA."

I chuckled incredulously. "Kirsty caring about school? That's new."

Damon shifted uncomfortably before changing the subject and mentioning that he had to get to first period.

"I'll walk with you," I told him, reminding him that we shared the same homeroom.

Damon looked surprised but agreed as the first bell rang, signalling five minutes before the start of classes.

As we walked side by side in silence, my mind raced with questions and doubts about Damon and Kirsty's relationship. Was there something more between them that he wasn't telling me?

But then Jon's playful antics interrupted my thoughts as he handed me my forgotten biology textbook with a mischievous grin before planting a quick kiss on my cheek. His presence never failed to brighten my day.

I blew a kiss at Jonathan as we prepared to leave. He clutched his chest before dramatically sliding down the lockers.

"You're such a freaking dork," I laughed.

"Don't act like you don't love it."

"I do."

And I did.

"Get up and go to class," I told him as I tried to stop laughing.

He jumped up, picking up his bag, before saying, "See you in the gym!"

I waved once more as we went our separate ways.

"When did that happen?" he suddenly asked out of the blue.

I glanced at him, puzzled. "When did what happen?"

"You and Jon? When did you guys start dating?" he inquired with a curious glint in his eyes.

I couldn't help but laugh at his question. "What? What's so funny?" he prodded further.

"Jon and I aren't dating," I clarified with a chuckle. "We're best friends. We could never ruin that by dating."

Damon let out a thoughtful hum before speaking again. "Hmm."

"Hmm, what?" I pressed for an answer.

"Nothing," he replied in a sing-song tone, teasingly evading my question.

I playfully grabbed his shoulder, causing him to laugh.

"What is it? Tell me," I insisted.

"First, ow," he mockingly complained as he rubbed his shoulder. "Second, I think it's hilarious how oblivious the two of you are."

"My god. You're starting to sound like my parents," I remarked with a smile. "They always joked about us getting together."

His eyebrows raised slightly as a smirk played on his lips. "Oh god. Not you too," I groaned in response.

"I mean, would it really be all that weird?" Damon mused aloud as we approached the entrance to the biology classroom.

I nodded hesitantly. "Yeah, kind of... I mean, say one of us were to have a crush on the other and it wasn't required... That could ruin our lifelong friendship," I reasoned out loud.

Damon simply shrugged before stopping at the classroom door and turning to face me directly. "You'll never know unless you try," he offered cryptically before entering ahead of me.

Shaking off his words, I followed him into class just as Mr. Killian began informing us about DNA kits donated by an anonymous benefactor for our upcoming project assignment involving genetic testing.

But deep down, a seed of doubt had been planted by Damon's words—a seed that whispered tantalizing possibilities yet also warned of potential pitfalls if explored further.

"Alright, last class we continued learning about the human genome. Can anyone guess what I'm going to have you do now? Anyone? Anyone?" Mr. Killian's voice echoed through the classroom as he scanned the room for a response.

"Harley!" he called out suddenly, causing my head to snap up in surprise.

"A report on what we've learned?" I ventured a guess, hoping to impress my teacher with my attentiveness.

"Close," he replied with a mysterious smile. "Today, I will be handing out an assignment, but it is on you."

"On us?" I couldn't help but blurt out in confusion.

"Yes Harley. You." Mr. Killian reached for something on his desk and held it up for all to see. "This is a DNA kit that we were generously donated by an anonymous benefactor."

The mention of an anonymous donor piqued my curiosity. Who would donate DNA kits to high school students?

"Your assignment is to take one of these DNA tests," Mr. Killian explained further. "You will have three months to receive your results and evaluate them before writing a report on your findings."

He began distributing pieces of paper among us, each containing detailed instructions for the project.

"If you will open to the first page," he instructed as everyone complied obediently. "You will find a permission form. As this is sensitive private information and most of you are under the age of eighteen, He paused, looking at a boy in the back row who'd been held back a few years.

There were many rumours: fighting, drugs, and plain old laziness. I chose to believe the latter.

He's got to be about nineteen in a class of sixteen and seventeen-year-olds.

As murmurs and whispers filled the room, I couldn't contain my excitement at the prospect of uncovering more about my genetic heritage.

"This kit is designed to break down your genome and reveal your ethnic background from each parent," Mr. Killian continued enthusiastically.

I couldn't wait to share this news with Jon, who knew of and shared my passion for forensics and human evolution studies.

He spoke of the possibility of being a forensic anthropologist, while I expressed my desire to be a forensic psychiatrist or criminologist.

"The rest of the package is how you will be assessed and graded. Use the remainder of this class to read over the assignment and ask any questions you may have. Now, the sooner you get your permission slip signed, the sooner you can begin."

That's what we did. As we all waited for the bell to ring, we read through the stack of papers.

By we, I meant Damon and I.

The rest of the students simply sat, talking to friends.

Mr. Killian sat at his desk, appearing to be grading papers.

As I felt something hit the back of my head, a sense of annoyance washed over me. Ignoring it at first, I focused on the assignment Mr. Killian had given us. But then I felt it again, and this time I couldn't ignore it.

Whipping around, my eyes landed on Jake Clemons, the notorious class clown, with a smirk plastered on his face. "What?!" I mouthed at him, wondering what prank he was up to now.

He pointed beside me, still smirking mischievously. Curious, I looked down and saw a crumpled piece of paper lying next to my desk. Rolling my eyes, I bent down to pick it up discreetly.

Unravelling the note cautiously, I read the words scrawled across it in messy handwriting:

Hey babe,

You're looking really good today.

When are you going to stop playin' hard to get and let me take you on a date?

I shot Jake a glare before crumpling up the note to throw away later.

But before I could do so, Mr. Killian caught sight of it and demanded to see what had distracted me.

My heart sank as he read the embarrassing contents out loud to the entire class, causing laughter to erupt around me. Mortified, I buried my head in my arms on the desk until Mr. Killian moved me to sit in front of him as punishment.

Feeling humiliated and defeated, I gathered my things and moved seats without meeting anyone's eyes.

I couldn't wait for the bell to ring so I could escape this nightmare.

As soon as it did, I practically ran out of the classroom and bumped into Jon waiting outside.

As we hurried through the crowded hallways towards our next class, Jon shot me a curious glance. "What happened in biology today?"

I shook my head and sighed. "It was nothing."

But deep down inside me burned a mix of embarrassment and anger that threatened to consume me whole. The note from Jake had been humiliating enough, but being moved to sit in front of Mr. Killian because of it was even worse.

As I shoved on my track shorts, grateful that winter was finally over, I exited the change room to the annoying chatter of my classmates. Jon stood off to the side, waiting to hear what our gym teacher, Mr. Bruile, had in store for us that day.

I walked over to him, only to jump as the infamous whistle of Mr. Bruile sounded through the air. God, how I hated that whistle. Its high-pitched and loud sound grated on my nerves like nails on a chalkboard.

Turning around with a slight glare on my face, I saw Mr. Bruile holding a soccer ball, tossing it back and forth in his hands. He cleared his throat in an attempt to catch the attention of the class, which had split into their little groups, carrying on conversations.

"LISTEN UP, DELINQUENTS!" bellowed Mr. Bruile in his authoritative tone that hinted at his military background. "Today, we are playing soccer baseball. Participation is mandatory." He turned to me with a stern look.

I couldn't help but roll my eyes at being singled out once again by Mr. Bruile for some reason unknown to me. Soccer baseball was one of my favourite sports, as it combined my love for soccer with my father's favourite sport, baseball.

As Mr. Bruile announced the game rules and divided us into teams, I couldn't shake off the feeling that today was just not going to be my day. Why was everyone picking on me? First by my peers, and now both of my teachers?

While begrudgingly starting laps around the field as punishment from Mr. Bruile, Jon joined me without hesitation, despite knowing he would get punished too if caught.

"What are you doing?" I asked between breaths as we ran side by side.

"I ticked him off on purpose so I could join you," replied Jon with a smile as he matched my pace, even though he could run much faster than me.

His gesture reminded me of our childhood, when he had thrown himself into a mud puddle just so I wouldn't feel embarrassed about falling down in front of everyone else at nursery school.

I smiled back at him before focusing on completing our laps while humming quietly under my breath.

Finally joining the rest of the class for soccer baseball, Mr. Bruile assigned teams with strict instructions about no friends—only winners or those who weren't them (though apparently he wasn't allowed to call us losers anymore).

Because it 'lowers our self-esteem'."

Okay. Someone has been having a talk with one of the guidance counsellors.

Doesn't appear to have done much. Only time will tell.

It's always been a mystery why people who seem to absolutely abhor children choose to teach them.

You're probably picturing an old man or woman, near retirement age, who has lost their will to teach.

Mr. Bruile is getting older but is still young, at forty-seven.

He could've fooled me with his attitude.

"Someone has been talking to Mrs. Wilkins," Jon snickered.

Mrs. Wilkins is a kind young woman and also one of our school's guidance counsellors.

Typically, she was a very bubbly person, able to be heard from down the hall at times.

She was a fairly attractive woman in her early thirties, with long brunette hair that was often kept in a bun and striking green eyes.

I've never been a fan of overly-perky people. To be quite honest, any time I'm around them, it feels like I'm being attacked by a dementor; my soul has slowly been sucked from my body.

However, Mrs. Wilkins is different. She knows when to tone it down. Her approach to each student is based on them. She's actually one of the only faculty members who really cares about her students, taking the time to get to know them without being pushy.

It's the reason why she's many people's favourite around here. Even if they don't have an appointment, if she's free, she will always lend an ear or a shoulder.

Despite being placed on a team opposite Jon's, where most jocks and cheerleaders congregated, I braced myself for what was sure to be an interesting game ahead.

With another blow of that blasted whistle, we were off.