The Fragile Ordinary. Samantha Young

was my dad. One minute he cared. The next he didn’t.

      Mercurial.

      That was one of my favorite words in the English language.

      However, I doubted any kid wanted their parent to be mercurial.

      I grabbed a pen and opened my notebook to write it all down.

      A ball of frustration tightened in my chest. Why did I need that constant reminder? I should just get it by now. I was on my own. I always had been.

      Enough of the woe!

      I slammed my notebook closed and crossed the room to my bookshelves. It was time for a mood changer. My eyes lit on the first book in a bestselling teen vampire series. The heroine was sassy, kick-ass and she was all those things despite being neglected by her parents. I pulled out the book and curled up with it on the armchair in the corner of my room.

      As I fell into my heroine’s adventure, my parents, the house...it all just melted away.

      THE FRAGILE ORDINARYSAMANTHA YOUNG

       5

      Hey you, pretty girl with no filter,

      Are we friends or are we enemies?

      You’re mercurial and slightly off-kilter,

      For my safety, I’m labeling us frenemies.

      —CC

      Much to my disturbance, I discovered that just because you tell yourself you can’t possibly be attracted to a Neanderthal, doesn’t mean you suddenly stop being attracted to a Neanderthal.

      It was the only explanation for how hyperaware I seemed to be of Tobias King’s whereabouts. As it turned out we had three classes together. He was in my maths class as well as Spanish and English. All Higher classes, and from the little I’d gleaned over the week—because my ears were hyperaware of him, too, and pricked up anytime I heard someone discussing him—Tobias was in only Higher classes.

      If his first week was anything to go by, however, he wouldn’t be there long.

      Thursday, we were in maths, and I was sitting next to a girl I didn’t know well, Felicity Dodd. If it was possible, she was even quieter than I was. We hadn’t spoken a word to one another.

      We hadn’t gotten that far into class when I became aware of a low hum of noise, and it struck me quite quickly that it was the sound of music blasting out of earphones. Our teacher, Ms. Baker, heard it, too, and stopped to scan the room. I turned to look behind me, my eyes automatically zeroing in on Tobias.

      And sure enough...

      He was the cause of the noise.

      He had his head buried in his arms on the desk, and the white wires of earphones could be seen coming out of his ears.

      Frustration boiled inside of me. What was this kid’s problem? Jesus! Did Mummy and Daddy drag him away from America and he was trying to punish them by being a total dipshit at school?

      Boo-hoo!

      At least they hadn’t left him there. I’m pretty sure my parents would have left me if they flitted countries. And hey, let’s not rule the possibility out. There was still time for total and complete abandonment.

      Scowling, I looked up at Ms. Baker to find she was doing the same. Her hands flew to her hips. “Mr. King.”

      Nothing.

      Of course not.

      His music was too loud.

      Our teacher turned her attention to Tobias’s neighbor, Becky Ford. “Miss Ford, could you please nudge Mr. King?”

      Becky looked like she was wishing she’d sat anywhere else as she gently nudged him. He didn’t budge.

      “Harder, Becky.”

      She shoved him.

      Tobias’s head flew up, whipping around to glare at her.

      Becky glared back and pointed to the front of the room.

      Confused, he followed her direction. Upon realizing he’d been caught, he stared blandly at Ms. Baker, who mimicked taking earphones out of her ears. Rolling his eyes, Tobias did her bidding.

      “What’s up?” he said.

      I thought Ms. Baker’s head was going to explode. Instead she held out her hand. “Give me that.”

      “Give you what?”

      “Whatever device you’re using to listen to music while you’re in my class.”

      “It’s my phone.” Tobias shook his head. “No way am I giving you my phone.”

      I swallowed a gasp. His attitude was the kind I’d expected to put up with in years one to three. But in fifth year, I was in classes with other driven people who needed good grades to achieve whatever their future ambitions were. I did not expect to have to put up with this crap from someone in my class, and I was sure Ms. Baker was thinking the same thing.

      “I don’t know how things are done in the US of A, Tobias, but here, when a teacher confiscates something from a pupil for good reason, that pupil does not refuse.”

      “This one is.”

      The class shifted collectively in their seats.

      “If you don’t hand over your phone, you can just get up out of that seat and walk yourself to Mr. Jenkins’s office.”

      “And who the hell is that?”

      Really?

      Attracted to that? I thought to myself.

      “Mr. Jenkins is an assistant rector here, and watch your language.”

      “Assistant rectum? That’s an unfortunate job title.”

      Someone snickered at the back of the room.

      “I’m sure you’ve already been made aware of this, Tobias, but rector is our term for principal. An assistant rector is a vice principal. Perhaps you understand how much trouble you’re in now.”

      “Whatever.” Tobias stood up abruptly, his chair scraping against the wooden floor. “Just point the way.”

      Ms. Baker marched toward the classroom door to open it for him, and the door happened to be in front of my desk. She stopped him at the door and gave him directions to Mr. Jenkins’s office.

      “And Tobias,” she said quietly, but I was right there, so I heard every word, “despite your grades and test scores, you will not last in my class with this attitude. If you’d like to remain in Higher Mathematics, you better rethink your behavior. Do you understand?”

      His answer was to salute her and stride out the door.

      Ms. Baker stared after him, looking concerned and peeved at the same time.

      Finally, she slammed the door closed and continued with class as if nothing had happened.

      * * *

      “What are the plans for the weekend, then?” Steph said as she sat down at our table in the cafeteria. Despite the fact Vicki and Steph both had friends outside of our circle, only the three of us ate together at lunch. I had a feeling this was deliberate on their part and for my socially awkward benefit. Either that or I embarrassed them. Neither reason made me feel great about myself.

      The cafeteria was the hub of the school. Glass doors ran along either side of it, but could only be accessed from inside. A massive staircase spiraled into the center of the cafeteria and led to the upper floor classrooms like English. Ground-floor classrooms were dedicated to subjects like Home Economics, Graphic Communication, Engineering, Chemistry, Biology and Physics.

      At one end of the cafeteria