The Boys of Hawthorne by Ashtyn Short
Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve 

Boston 

Walking into class, we take our seats and watch as Aspen walks in, goes to the teacher’s desk and introduces herself, and gives him a piece of paper just as she has at the beginning of every class thus far. Mr. Fauks hands the paper back and then turns to the class, “Everyone, some of you may have already met her, but this is Aspen Clark. Aspen, you may have a seat wherever you can find one available.” 

Glancing around the room, her eyes roam over students and open seats, her face freezing, and then immediately dropping when she sees the four of us sitting at the back of the class. 

“Man, she looks pissed.” Linc leans over and whispers to me as she takes one of the only two empty seats in class, which happens to be right in front of Jax. The only other open seat is in front of me, and clearly, she didn’t like that idea in the least. 2 

I just shrug, there’s not really much that I can say. We wanted to push her away, and that’s precisely what we’ve managed to do. 

Although, apparently, we’ve managed to both hurt her and piss her off. 3 

“Alright, everyone. Put everything away except for a pencil. If you remember, we have a test to take today.” Mr. Fauks says, with a smirk on his face, knowing that the majority of us likely forgot. 

I’m definitely included in that majority that fuc*king forgot. 

Which isn’t good. I gotta pass all of my classes with the best grades that I can get. This is an AP class, and he certainly treats us as if we were college students instead of high schoolers. 

He hands a stack of tests to the first person in each row, that student 

dent takes one and then passes them back to the next 

person. 

Motherfu*cker! I growl, as the guy two seats ahead of me walks my test to me. I swipe it from his hand, nodding in thanks, and place it down on my desk. 

Here goes nothing. 

Dear Lord, please help me. 

After writing my name on my test, I glance over at Aspen for a minute, truly hating the predicament we’ve found ourselves in, and hating myself for hurting her even more. 

Tearing my attention away from her and back to the piece of paper on my desk, I pick up my pencil and begin reading the first question. 

1. Let’s say you are at a loud sports game leaning in to listen to your friend talk to you. What kind of attention are 

you using? 

a.) Selective attention 

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b.) Executive attention 

c.) Sustained attention. 

d.) Divided attention 

I circle A for selective attention and then move on to question #2. 

2. The senses that are part of the somatosensory system are 

a.) Touch and smell 

b.) Taste and touch 

c.) Touch and proprioception 

d.) Smell and taste 

Answering C, I move on to the next question. 

After making my way through each of the questions as best as I 

, I feel pretty confident that I did pretty good. But, at the same time, there’s this little part of me that’s nervous that I completely bombed it, and honestly, it would probably be Karma getting me back for how I’ve been towards Aspen. 

Those who have already finished, have to sit at their desk quietly after turning their test into the basket, so the people. who are still taking their test aren’t disturbed. 

Glancing over at Aspen, I see that she’s still taking her test, tapping her pencil against her bottom lip as she looks at 

her paper. 

I feel bad for her. She hasn’t even been in class to have known that we were going to have a test. Let alone any of its subject matter. I’m honestly surprised that Fauks didn’t give her a pass. 

I keep my eyes trained on her, taking in the way she taps her pencil against her lower lip when she’s reading a question, and how she twirls her hair with her index and middle fingers when she’s thinking. How, as far as I saw, she didn’t have to correct any of her answers. This tells me she already knew the material we were being tested over, or that she guessed and was going with her first choice rather than second–guessing herself. 

I’m secretly hoping it’s the first, not going to lie. We may be treating her horribly, but I really do like her and want her to thrive while she’s here. 

By the time the bell rings, I want to call it quits on this whole charade and tell her everything. 

“You can’t tell her. You know that, right?” Jax says as we’re walking out of the classroom as if he knew exactly what I 

was thinking. 

I just give him a look that says ‘no shit Sherlock. I f*ucking know, okay?” 

Just because I want to tell her, doesn’t mean that I will. 

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The look on her face when I first saw her this morning, *. She looks s*exy as hell today, the bright smile that she had on her face as she watched us walking towards her, I hated watching it melt from her face, being replaced by hurt and confusion when we walked right on past her, ignoring her as if we didn’t even see her there. 

I hate seeing the hurt and even her anger in her eyes, especially with knowing that we’re the cause. 

She’s going to f*ucking hate me. 

Hate us. 

But at least she won’t be ripped to shreds by the vultures that always seem to be around. 

Instead, it’ll be me that does it. 

Seeing her in class, I just want to go up to her, kiss her, and let everyone know that she’s mine–even though technically she isn’t, not anymore. Instead, I’m acting like she’s nothing and no one. 

Ugh! I groan, rubbing my hands down my face, frustration growing with every second that passes, with the situation that I’ve put myself in. I fu8cking hate this! 

Up to this point, Aspen has been in every single one of my brothers and my classes and considering that we’re all four taking all AP classes, other than our foreign language and athletics, color me fuc*king impressed. 

Not that I really should be, she’s damn smart. From some of our conversations, she rivals my brothers and me easily. I’m curious as to what her purpose is with all of the AP classes though. (1) 

For us, we’re all planning on going into different areas within the medical field, along with hopefully participating in our chosen sport. 

Taking two years of a foreign language and AP classes gives us a leg up on our college credits, and if one, or all of us, is fortunate enough to perform at the college level, going pro isn’t something that any of us aspire to do, we all decided that we want to get the most out of our High School and College experiences as we can. Plus, it’s that many fewer classes that we have to pay for once in college. 

We’ve all discussed with our dad at length our aspirations that we have for our futures. 

Personally, I love playing football. 

Linc, and I both do.. 

We were both even invited to attend a Showcase Camp this past spring, where we performed drills for our specific positions against other top players, along with many other 1–on–1 challenges. Then, in June we also attended a One- Day Evaluation Camp, putting us on the Coach’s radar that neither of us may have already been on. 

As long as we’re invited again this year, we’ll most likely be attending again, taking all the exposure we’re able to get to hopefully receive a football scholarship. 

Dad is damn proud of us for our determination, but also for our realism. I personally want to either be a nurse or maybe even go on to get my Doctorate, if ball doesn’t work out. But, then, I’m also not sure if I really want to go through the amount of schooling that would be required to get a Doctorate degree. 

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Linhoping to make the football team at UNC, while also studying sports medicine. We all plan to attend the University of Northern Colorado upon graduation, as long as that’s where we get recruited. 

It’s basically right shown the road. This gives us the choice of still living at home if we want to, while also giving the option of living closer to the school and allowing being able to visit my dad or brothers easier to manage, if they stay behind, without having to drive much. 

It wrestling doesn’t work out, las is considering Anesthesiology. 

But out of all of us, Dal has the highest aspirations of becoming a neurosurgeon. That is if ball doesn’t work out for [11] ધી ફ્રી 

him. 

I’d admire him, but personally, I don’t think I could do it. Again, that’s a lot of schooling. 

Our last class before hunch is study hall. With taking so many AP classes and being in sports, we all need the time allowed during study hall to work on coursework, or as the name suggests, study. 

And that’s what we do as soon as we sit down around one of the round desks placed around the room. 

“Did either of you get the notes from English? And what did we go over in Cale? Did we have an assignment?” I ask, pulling out my English and Calculus books, notebook paper, and a pencil. 

“You really didn’t pay attention?” Dal asks, a surprised look on his face, 

“Give me a break. Considering how we’ve made things for Aspen this morning, my head hasn’t exactly been with it.” I feel like f*ucking shit, but I’m not going to tell them that. 

“I got you,” lax says, handing me his linglish notes. 

“Here are my notes from Calculus and I wrote our assignment in the top comer.” Line says, handing me his notebook 

With their help, I get to work, tuning everything else out as I concentrate on my work. 

Before I know it, the bell is ringing, dismissing us for lunch. And, thank fu*ck for that, because my stomach has been growling like a beast for at least the last half hour. 

“Hungry?” Line teases, with a shoulder check. 

“I’m fu8cking starving!” I say, patting my stomach as we walk out of study hall. Before heading to the cafeteria, we stop by our lockers to drop off our book–filled backpacks. 

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