Logan Chadwick was what lots of girls would find attractive, me being no exception. He was 6'2 and 215 lbs (according to the Crystal Bend Gargoyle's Football Roster). He had dirty blond hair and emerald green eyes. He was attractive, no doubt, but there were things about him that I hated. I loathed the way he walked the halls, acting as if he owned the school and the city, for that matter. Crystal Bend, Oklahoma is a small, mining city that's about an hour and a half away from the Red River; his family owned the mines, the lifeblood of the town which means that, indirectly, he did own the town and he knew it. That's how he got in this position, the position where he needed me.
My older brother, Dillon, played football with him from the time Logan was a freshman until Dillon graduated last year. Dillon would make jokes about how Logan was a white boy that felt entitled to everything because he was rich and white, and our stepdad, James would remind him that it was wrong to badmouth his teammate and one of James' players; James was the head football coach. Dillon was right, though, Logan oozed entitlement and it was sickening. Imagine my surprise when Logan Chadwick, Mr. Hot Shot Jock, walked up to me, Lauren Jameson, Madame Bookworm, and said "I need you." Well, honestly, I about slapped him across the face until I realized that he meant an actual favor.
"What do you need, Logan?" I asked, without even looking up from the books in my locker.
"I have extremely low "D"s in both English and Biology," he said in that snooty voice that I hate so much.
"I don't see how that's my problem," I said, fumbling around in my locker, uninterested.
"Well, honestly, Lauren, if I don't pass these classes, it's the whole town's problem because I won't be able to play," he stated confidently, stealing a peek at himself in my locker mirror.
"Logan, I hate to break it to you but this is Crystal Bend, Oklahoma. Whether you pass or fail your classes does not make or break anything for anyone but you! Hell, even if you pass, who's to say if you're even good enough to make it in a bigger place, like college? This may be as far as you go!" I fumed, it was completely out of my nature to be a bitch, but this guy made it hard not to be.
I waited for a snide little remark. When it didn't come, I was concerned. I looked up just in time to see a hurt look on his face. 'Wow, he has a heart,' I thought to myself.
"Lauren, listen, I really need your help to pass these classes. You are the smartest person here! You've only been getting straight A's since the womb. Coach Jameson told me to ask you and see if you'd give me a shot. If you help me, I would gladly compensate you for your time." His green eyes pleaded with me, a guy at the end of his rope.
"Aw, hell! Fine, I'll do it but I do have a few rules while we do this," I said, cursing myself for my soft heart. Dillon's words: 'Entitled White Boy' floated in my thoughts for a second. White, black, red, or yellow, his money was green.
"Shoot!" he said, relieved and just as surprised as I was that I agreed to help him.
"I know you have practice after school until about six, right?" I asked. He nodded and I continued: "I work at the library in town until eight; you can meet me there for help. I don't trust you to keep your word, which is why I won't make any extra plans to help you out, if you do your part and keep your word, we can meet at other, less formal locations. If we have plans to meet and you stand me up for ANY reason, the deal's off, you can fail and I won't lose any sleep over it, deal?"
He pretended to think over my conditions, though he knew he had no choice but to submit. "Deal. Thanks again, Lauren! Hey, can I meet you today? I know it's a little short notice but I have a Biology test in two days." He shot me a perfect, white smile.
"That's fine, I'll be there anyway. Bring your books, leave your attitude," I said, shutting my locker.
"Yes, Ma'am!" He said, mockingly, slipping a $50 bill in my hand and running off to catch up with his football buddies before I could say a word.
The rest of my day went by at a snail's pace; I couldn't help but find myself daydreaming about his white smile and those beautiful green eyes. He was so hot, I wondered what his ivory skin would look like pressed against mine, how his hands would feel as he rubbed all over my body...
"----Lauren?" Mrs. Oricelli asked, to my surprise.
"1.77245385," I stated, quickly spying the words "Square Root of Pi" with a blank next to it.
"Correct," she said, "I almost thought you were daydreaming. I should have known better."
The bell rang at that moment. I gathered my things and put them into my bag. I walked out of the classroom before Mrs. Oricelli could ask me anything else. I threw my bag into the passenger side of my blue 1999 Chevy Cavalier, getting in on the driver side. As I shut my door, Logan pulled up beside me in his shiny, black Lincoln Navigator.
