9 A Little Push

It soon occurred to me that O'Conner never took breaks when it involved his scheming. The brick hallways surpassed me as I ventured further down to my locker. My eyes soon settled unto a figure I recognized, leaning precisely his butt unto my locker. I cringed knowing I would have to open that. Does the guy take weekends?

I approached him with a less than satisfied expression. "You're on my locker," I expressed in a flatten tone, "Jackson."

Jackson slipped a smirk unto his lips, propping himself up as he straightened his spine. He gesture an hand to my locker as he slide enough room for me to unlock it. I rolled my eyes at his formal slide of his hand; I abruptly allowed my bag to glide off my shoulder to crash unto the hallway floors. I bent down to input my combination.

"So what do you want?" I stiffly directed my question in an annoyed tone. I wasn't used to seeing Jackson as the first face I laid my eyes on each morning. And I sure as hell wasn't going to get used to it. It had been this second attempt to bombard me with the entails of his scheming. Wasn't it good enough that my entire life now revolved around his scheme?

"Can you..." Jackson bent his knees, gaining himself to my ear level, "get Freya to agree to sit with you at lunch?"

"I guess... it shouldn't be hard," I popped my locker open, snagging out my trigonometry textbook, "But why do you want her sitting with us?" I lifted myself to my feet as I bumped my locker closed. Jackson followed suit, lazily waiting a few seconds, after me. "You know how much of a pain that causes me? Have you seen my friends?" I stressed.

Jackson patted my shoulder in a kind manner. He reached over, grasping the strap of my bag into his hand. He handed it out to me, "I do. But it's all to help you," I slung the bag back unto my shoulder, "Just do as I say," Jackson simply stated more than requested.

I knew it would be futile to say I didn't want to. When it came to Jackson's schemes, he infatuated himself with being at the head of command. I merely would reason with him. I sighed roughly, "Fine. I'll do it," I paused, eyeing him cautiously, "Just don't get me in trouble like you had last time."

I knocked his shoulder whilst passing him by; deciding our conversation had come to a closing. I heard Jackson shuffle a chuckle. "Thank you Lacey," he called out to me, a grin evident in his voice.

The duration of my periods before lunch fell into arranging how I would coax Freya Scott to attend lunch with my friends. I hadn't even known where she spent her lunches. A notebook laid in front of my eyes with possible ideas scribbled unto it. It had come in handy to use one when it came to O'Conner, which waved over a ridiculousness to me. Must be nice to be him. It appeared as though he only came up with the ideas, and everyone else had to find ways to make them a reality.

I fiddled with my pencil. I bet he knew where she went during lunches. Why hadn't I asked him? Only one option leaped off my page, which inconveniently had been the only one I wrote. She could be practicing her violin. In fact, the notion wouldn't shock me in the least. It just seemed overly easy.

I lifted my hand for Mrs. Rose to spot. It caught her attention timelessly. "Yes Lacey?" she called unto me.

"I don't feel well," I rose my hand to my forehead, "I might be getting a migraine. Can I go to the nurse?"

Mrs. Rose sighed, then nodded her head. "Take your things," she gestured to my bag and notebook.

I portrayed a frown as I found my way out of the classroom, my hand didn't leave my head until the door came shut behind me. Now to find Freya. I slipped a simle over my lips as I routed myself in the direction of where she practiced her violin.

Of course, I arrived to an soulless room with only instruments to keep me company. I scooped myself unto the stool I sat unto before as I waited. The bell rung only a mere seconds before I took my seat. I crossed my legs, hoping for success in my assumption. I couldn't imagine O'Conner coming up with whatever he had in mind if I wasn't able to find her. My mind slipped unto reminding myself he had asked me if I could. Shit.

A click echoed into the space. I lifted my eyes in anticipation. Freya set foot into the space to my convenient luck. A shook tickled up my spine as I had fell into a state of satisfaction; it disgusted me. I'm becoming Jackson, I thought miserably.

Freya motioned herself to face me, not noticing me. Without delay, her eyes settled unto me and a shriek erupted into the atmosphere. She sharply inhaled. "Freaking-" she stammered, "What the heck Lacey!"

I furrowed my eyebrow. "Freaking? Heck?" I repeated her choice of words.

"I don't curse."

I mouthed an 'O', then rose from my stool. I pretended to dust off my legs as if I waited quite a lengthy time for her. "You are coming with me," I smirked unto her.

"Why am I doing that?" she appeared taken back, "Wait. I get a choice. You know..."

I sighed deeply, planting my hand unto my hip. "Fine," I murmured, then put effort as I kindly asked, "Will you please come with me?" My tone shuffled into more of a plead than a request.

I rather have not given her the option to say no, as I drew a blank upon how to coax her into spending lunch with my friends and I rather than her music.

"Okay."

My eyes went board. "Did you just say okay?"

She nodded. She bent downward, slipping to her knees. She unlatched her case, with choosy fingers, she fixated her violin into the silhouette that case constructed. She latched the case once more, grasping the handle as she rose to her feet. A baffled expression still lingered unto my face. Why did this girl always do the opposite of what I assumed?

She cocked her head to the exit. "Are we going?"

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