To Taste the Fruit by Lorelei Sutton (the best electronic book reader TXT) 📕

There he is, about three desks away—his dark eyes flicking with an unfathomable emotion as his attention gravitates towards us. A lock of his jet black hair falls dangerously into his eyes, and he swipes it away impatiently. And then one of his trademark smile spreads across his chiseled face, making my heart beat in its chest.

He is surrounded by his friends, all of whom are staring at the two of us. Matt, Jacob, and Ryan are part of Sunny Valley's pure-blooded royalty as well, while Fred and Peyton are both loyal cronies. Or slaves, or faithful dogs. In this case, the words can be used interchangeably. 

"Hey," Sebastian responds, his deep voice sending chills down my spine.  

"I was wondering if you could help us with something," Ana says. He laughs in response, his gaze focusing on me immediately. I feel butterflies in my stomach, like I do every time I experience that intense stare of his. Trying to mask my embarrassment, I tentatively smile.

"Noel? Need help?" He stands up immediately, starting to walk over to our desks. "Now this I have to see." 

Oh no. He's actually walking over here. I gesture wildly to Ana, in dire need of help to produce something I need help on. 

Surprisingly, Ana whips out a sheet of paper in two seconds flat, upon which is listed several math problems. "What the crap is this?" I ask her in an accusing whisper as I survey the strange symbols. 

"Believe it or not, these are some unsolvable math problems we copied in class last period," Ana whispers back, "who knew it would come in handy?"

Who in the world would make their class copy down unsolvable math problems?! She must have Mrs. Washington as a teacher. That lady is so random.

Sebastian reaches us, sliding a desk close to ours. "Let me guess... is it math?" He asks. When he sits down, I catch the strange scent of peppermint. I don't think the aroma should be attractive, but somehow it it.

"Yes, these are some of Ana's problems." I slide the piece of paper over, and he leans in closer to read Ana's neat handwriting. His intense concentration allows me to look at him closely, to watch his furrowed brows and dark eyes. 

"Whoa, these are hard," he comments, "I knew it had to be something crazy for Noel to not know how to figure it out. I'm not sure if I can help you either." 

"It's okay," Ana smiles at him, "if you can't, don't worry about it." I roll my eyes at this statement. Of course he can't figure it out. 

Wendy, sitting over four desks, is obviously fuming. Her glare is directed at Ana, which is not surprising, considering she probably considers her to be more of a threat. For months now, Sebastian has been hers, even though he doesn't know it yet. I think.

It's strange, really, because even though I have a crush on Sebastian, I accept the fact that Wendy will have him no matter what. I'm competitive, but not over boys. 

I doubt she can even tell that I like him, because otherwise she wouldn't even try to pretend that she and I are friends. And again, I'm not the type she would ever see as a true threat. 

"Well, let's see what I can come up with..." Sebastian murmurs, picking up my blue pencil to write on the sheet. After a few seconds of writing, the scratching sounds stop. "Noel, are you even watching?"

"What? Yes, yes... I am." I whip my head around to face him. There is that beautiful stare again... I can't help but look away. "Sorry."

Ana winks at me over the top of his head. At times like this, I really dislike her.

"Well, first you take the square root of the x to the second power, because..." He keeps going for a little while, and it is surprising how well of a teacher he is. It feels weird being the one who is being taught like this by another student, and I kind of like it. 

"Ana, do you understand as well?" He asks her gently, and she just stares at the sheet. It's rather strange, because Sebastian not only showed all his work, but a clear and definite answer. 

"Um, yeah," she says in confusion, "thanks." He smiles at the both of us, probably amused by our jaws dropping practically to the floor.

"I should savor this moment." Sebastian laughs loudly. His friends look at him strangely, and he gets up from his seat and turns to smile at them. "I helped Noel with a math problem," He explains, and they all start clapping rather sarcastically.

"Sebastian! I need help too!" Wendy calls, while flipping her long hair. His smile grows even wider, and he walks over to her side.

"It was my problem, so technically he helped me instead of you," Noel says, and then that same evil smile comes to the surface again. "I wonder why he cared so much that you were watching?"

I ignore her, stealing a glance at Wendy's desk as Sebastian leans over her to take her pencil. His mouth is millimeters away from her ear, and he seems to be whispering something. It all looks so... intimate. I can't watch.

"He obviously was just surprised that I needed help helping you," I say slowly, "just in case you didn't catch that the first five times he said it."

"Well, yeah, but that doesn't mean anything. That's just an excuse." Ana tries to argue, but fails miserably. At least in my mind.

"And what about that answer he came up with? I thought the problem was supposed to be unsolvable."

"Well, it's Mrs. Washington. I'm not really surprised."

I knew it.

Suddenly a blaring voice comes in over the intercom, shocking the entire class. "HELLOOOO Boys and Girls! We have some exciting announcements regarding the SGA election for you today!"

My hand starts shaking again with a furious intensity. The rest of the class looks up, and Mr. Fouse walks over to the door to close it abruptly.

"Unfortunately, two of our seven ballot boxes placed around the school have been misplaced. As a result, a reelection will occur for the position of Treasurer and Secretary next Friday."

Wait... no. No. No no no no no.

"The rest of the positions were won with such a large margin of victory that the two missing ballot boxes would have not made a difference. For President... Sebastian Reynolds!"

The class erupts into applause. Sebastian takes an awkward bow, his smile stretching across his entire face.

"For Historian... Shelby Chase! For Vice President... Lindsay Underwood!" 

After these words, the class dissolves into quiet chatter. Except me, who has been struck silent by the awful announcement. "You mean I have to wait another week to see if I have the position?" I moan, causing Ana to sigh. 

"Sorry, Noel," She responds, "but this development doesn't mean less people are going to vote for you in the reelection. I mean, if someone looked up Secretary in the dictionary, your picture would pop up. You're perfect for the office."

"No guarantees," I mutter, thinking fervently. "I must be absolutely perfect for the next few weeks if I want to win."

"Just be yourself, and you should do just fine," Ana tries to reassure me.

"Well one thing's for sure."

"What?"

"If Wendy didn't have Sebastian's vote before, she has it now." I put my head in my hands, the stress probably getting to me. I worked so hard to get votes, and now it is all going to waste. And it doesn't help that Wendy has been slobbering over Sebastian for about ten solid minutes. I can accept their eventual marriage, but that doesn't mean I have to like it.

"Come on, Noel." Ana shakes my arm, "Let's just go to our next class. I'm sure the day will get better for you. It's our last period."

Right. Only one more period to go.

I let her lead me to the door, and the bell rings just as we open it. I think on Ana's words as we walk. Surely this is about the worst my day can get. Which means... it can only get better from here. 

Brightening up considerably, I part with Ana at the stairwell and walk over to the Art classroom, the only part of this school that seems to have any life to it. The hallways here are decorated with various paintings and murals, and the pillars by the doors are covered in painted handprints. 

"It can only get better, it can only get better..." I say to myself fiercely as I swing open the door. The room nearly blinds me as the light from the windows hit me straight in the eye. We don't have desks here, but long tables that are covered in art supplies and random items. I take a seat in my assigned spot, determined to lift my spirits.

Art class has always been a favorite of mine, even though I am not very good at a lot of the stuff we do in here. The best part about it is that the class has no wacky, disruptive kids so the atmosphere is really peaceful. I can relax and calm down from whatever stress I have been having.

Grayson takes a seat beside me, yawning loudly. "Hey Noel," he greets me and grabs a piece of paper from his binder. Without another word, he starts to doodle, sketching buildings and who-know-what-else. He is really quiet, but a really nice guy that I love to be next to. He won't attempt to fill up the silence with meaningless, incomprehensible babble. 

"Hey Grayson," I reply, and grab my own paper. Unlike him, however, I leave mine blank and wait for the teacher to get here.

It takes a few minutes, but Ms. Jackson finally arrives, waving a brush erratically with her hair in a very impressive bun. She smiles at our class of about eight kids while grabbing some more brushes from a jar in the corner of the room. 

Ms. Jackson is a pretty woman about the same age as my grandmother, with dark brown hair and icy blue eyes. What I like about her most is that she gets ecstatic about anything and everything. I always enjoy her energetic presence and it always makes me feel really excited as well, like I could actually be Ana's supposed superwoman in Ms. Jackson's classroom. 

"Good afternoon, class!" Her merry voice rings throughout the room. "I hope you all have had a spectacular day so far!"

There are varied murmurs of agreement, and I think Ms. Jackson takes it for a yes. "Wonderful!" She exclaims, "Today we are going to have a free day. Draw whatever you would like on your paper." She sits down on her desk, probably to work on one of her own drawings. 

Oh, fantastic. I stare at my blank paper, totally dumbfounded. What do I feel like drawing? I always enjoy drawing what Ms. Jackson suggests, but when it comes to choosing my own creation, it's impossible for me to ever decide on anything. 

I stare some more at the blank page for a few minutes, and then cautiously draw a single zig zag line. "Grayson, what does this look like?" I elbow him impatiently.

He slowly takes a glance at my paper, his green eyes dully surveying the messy line. "Uh... lightning, maybe? A cat's whiskers?"

"Okay, perfect." I turn away from him, drawing cotton candy shapes above the zig zag. A thunderstorm suits this piece of paper—and my mood for almost the entire day—perfectly.

A knock on the door interrupts my failed attempts at drawing a dark and dangerous cloud. I don't look immediately, immersed in marveling over such a horrible failure. How could I possibly make a cloud look so incredibly bad?

There is some whispering by the door. Ms. Jackson is probably conversing with some annoying kid. The strange part about it is, out of the corner of