AN: We're at the home stretch, my friends! Please feel free to tell your friends about this crazy. They'll probably give you weird looks, but I always get those and I'm good.
Thank you for reading and get started with The Attraction Equation. If you love this Edward, you'll want to marry that one and have his nerdy babies. Maybe. 40/60 chance.
One more final. One more time opening up my locker. One more time trying to guess what the rancid smell is coming from said locker. I probably should have investigated this sooner, instead of just piling papers and books over whatever was rotting in there.
I wouldn't need anything in there every again. Crazy Mulligan, the janitor can take care of it. Rumor has it he picks up road kill and fries it up for snacks. A man that has that strong of a stomach can handle whatever moldy mess lies buried in my locker. Maybe.
Of course, the final is gym. Worst for last. I dragged my feet going out to the track. My kid had study hall, so instead of sitting in the sweltering classroom, he was sitting with his gang of knights on the bleachers. They were having their Game of Thrones book club.
"Hey, Bella!" He yelled and blew me a kiss.
I gave him a tiny wave.
"Hey, Swan!" James Taylor did obnoxious pelvis thrusting at me, making my kid whack him on the head with the hardback edition of Games of Thrones he was holding. That things was a massive tome of battles and maiden ravaging. That got to have hurt.
I gave James Taylor a two middle finger salute.
I could have gotten good grades in physical education, but that would have taken effort and caused sweat. Two things I hated doing.
"Miss Swan, thanks for joining us. I thought you would have done your usual disappearing act." The coach gave me his smug, jock look.
I glared. "I've never missed a gym class."
"Where were you then?"
Hiding under the bleachers.
I lied, "I'm so quick and my skills are so excellent, I was like The Flash."
"Bullshit." Strangely, the cursing the coach just did made me almost want to respect him. Almost.
"Coach, cursing in front of a student. Tsk. Tsk," I admonished, half-heartedly. "How about we play, Let's Make a Deal. You give me a 'C' and I won't squeal to the principal."
"Better plan. You run a timed mile and get a passable time and I give you a passable grade." He had the gall to smirk at me.
I hated challenges, because I had a insane need to not only conquer them but to rub people's face in it. Coach needed a taking down. Badly.
"Get to the timing, old man!"
I ran. Wind in my hair. Anger in my veins. Thoughts of debasing my kid on the fat ass coach's desk. It made me stumble for a moment, but then my imagination made me speed up even faster. My kid would look glorious getting sweaty the fun way.
It was like I was flying.
I could hear cheering. I wondered if the giant was streaking again. Impending fatherhood made him want to get naked. The last time I checked that was what got him into his dilemma in the first place.
I continued to run and imagined how Annie Oakley would like dorm life. If plans worked out accordingly and Annie learned her lines, I would have a single room in no time.
I refused to slow down. I could see the coach's beady eyes willing me to fail. I never fail at anything. I only half ass things on purpose. Except for the Tanya fiasco, but that was a fluke and Larry was keeping her off my back. Maybe it was a win after all.
I skidded to a stop past the coach. The cheering continued.
Giant has his pants on. What's all the fuss about?
Baseball boy grabbed my wheezing and breathless body, swinging me around. I was going to throw up on his head. "You were amazing!"
"What?" So dizzy.
"I'll be damned, Swan. That was the fastest time in Fork's High history!" Coach shook his head. "You could have been running this whole time! We could have gone to the state finals! Damn it! You get an 'A' for that performance."
Water. Need water.
"My girl is going to be valedictorian!" My kid cheered.
"Ang...Ang...water..." I tried to say. Running sucks.
"Angela got a 'B' in Home Ec. Her cake wouldn't rise," James Taylor said. "My poor baby."
"No valed...valedictorian," I pleaded.
My kid poured his water bottle down my throat.
"You'll be marvelous!" He kissed my sweaty head. "My beautiful girl waxing poetic about the promise of our futures!"
I threw up on his shoe. That's why I don't run.
Take that promising futures.