A seating chart first lead Chase to Rory.
He was told to sit next to her and she was told to sit next to him.
Neither was given a choice.
She didn't talk much.
He talked too much.
"Chase Turnleaf," The teacher bellowed. "You sit here. Rory Landon,you sit next to him," He grinned widely and sat down next to her. She smiled a thin lipped smile and sat down next to him.
"Chase Turnleaf," He introduced thrusting his hand at her.
"Rory Landon," She replied, shaking said hand.
She has a firm handshake, he noted.
He shakes peoples hands, she noted.
For the first week neither person talked to the other for more than a few sentences. These sentences usually consisted of polite small talk or request for various school supplies.
Chase was determined to make her talk.
He had seen her talk before.
She had turned around and chatted with the girl who sat behind them.
She had talked to her friends at lunch.
She just refused to have a real conversation with him.
"Give me back my book," She commanded, holding out her hand. He rolled his eyes. "Fine, if you won't give it to me, you'll won't be getting back your stapler,"
"Fine, whatever, just don't hurt the stapler," He said, mock fear in his voice. He gave her her book, and he got back his stapler along with her eraser.
"I saw that," She said, rolling her eyes in what he hoped was amusement.
"You took my eraser,"
"Did I really?"
While he was fiddling with his stapler, she lunged over and made a mad grab for the eraser.
"Got it," She proclaimed.
He rolled his eyes and pushed down on the stapler, smiling as a single staple came out.
He then threw said staple at Rory.
"Hey, what was that," She looked around before her eyes finally fell on him. "Was that a staple?"
His response consisted of another staple being thrown.
More staples were then thrown back and forth between the two until he proclaimed the stapler empty.
"Look at the ground," She giggled.
He did. All around them lay fallen staples.
"Good luck cleaning this up," She said, picking up a few of the fallen staples and throwing them in his general direction. "And, by the way, I totally won this whole staple war thing,"
"Can I borrow your scissors?" He asked the following day.
"Sure she said, pulling out a pair of purple scissor from her binder.
He smiled his thanks before pulling and eraser out of his binder. He then proceeded to cut said eraser into small pieces and throw them at the trashcan.
"I bet you can't make ten in a row." She whispered as he aimed the eraser bits at the trashcan.
He made ten in a row.
While cutting up the eraser Rory had given him for that exact purpose, her scissors broke.
He nudged her with his elbow and pointed down and the scissors.
"Are those my scissors," She asked. He nodded his head.
She rolled her eyes. "This is the last time I ever let you use my scissors."
"Hey Rory, can I use your scissors?"
They never talked outside of class.
He was popular. She wasn't.
That made for some social bonderaries neither were willing to look past.
It took him all of four months to finally work up the courage to sit next to her at lunch.
She glanced at him once, smiled a thin lipped smile, before turning back to her giggling friends and not looking at him for the rest of lunch.
It was fine though, he had his friends, she had hers.
At least, that's what he told himself.
On the last day of seventh grade, Chase found himself at her locker. When she walked over, she pushed past him.
"Excuse me, can I get to my locker," She asked, attepmting to push him away anyways.
He swallowed once before turning back to her. "Are you doing anything this summer?"
She glanced over at him. "Yeah, I'm going down to LA to visit my dad."
He nodded his head, "Cool. I was wondering if I could get your phone number, so we could, you know…"
She rolled her eyes, "Yeah sure,"
They texted all summer.