"You really didn't do it, Adelaide?" My dad asks me.
"I really didn't do it. Michael's doesn't even have a heart. It's a black frozen block..." I reply.
"Why don't I believe you? You've been helping him, or maybe he's been helping you..." My mom questions.
"I didn't cheat! I can prove it to you right now! Give me some problems," I say.
I answered all of them correct but one.
"So you didn't prove it. You should go to that boy's house for math help." My mom says.
"Are you kidding me?!" I ask.
"No, you shouldn't even be in the higher math class. Let me call the school." My dad firmly says.
"You've got to be kidding me," I mumble to myself.
I timidly walk through the halls; everyone seemed bigger and scarier. I knew one person was out to get me, Michael. I don't even now why he decided to talk to me. Why would he even try to be nice? I brush my shoulder against someone and mumble, sorry. I feel a hand placed on my shoulder and turn around.
"Why did you just do that?" Michael asks.
"I didn't mean to," I reply.
"Obviously you did, you hate me." Michael says, stressing on the word 'hate'.
"I'm sorry," I say almost in a whisper.
"No, you're not," Michael spits, walking in the other direction.
'What am I getting myself into?' I ask myself.
"I need help with my homework." It's another Twitter DM from Michael. I sigh and I think I have no choice but to walk over to his house, which is very close.
I knock on the door and Michael answers the door in sweatpants and a sweatshirt. He shows me to his room or his brother's room. He opens his math textbook and says,
"No, that's cheating Michael. Apparently that's what I did," I reply.
"Now I'm in the lower math class because of you." I spit.
"You should be there," he mumbles.
"Really? Really I should? Then why the hell am I helping you?" I ask, raising my voice.
He stays quiet.
"Michael, why the hell am I helping you?!" I yell.
His face turns red and his knuckles turn white. He opens up his hand, raises his arm and slaps me. I touch the spot that was slapped, my skin burning at my own touch.
Michael still stays quiet.
"You have nothing to say?" I ask timidly.
His lips are still touching.
I simply get off the bed and walk out of his house, walking into mine with tears.