Read Story: SEASON 1 EPISODE 1
The classroom was quiet as Mr. Gonzales walked
around collecting our reports. I managed to do my
report last night; I was up until 3 in the morning. The
teacher made his way to my desk in the last row; I
sat alone by choice. “Ms. Harp?” he spoke as he
looked at me.
His voice was questioning as he saw my neatly
typed paper in the corner of my desk. Grinning, I
picked it up and placed it into his hands, on top of the
other papers. “Here you go, Mr. Gonzales.”
It wasn’t often that I didn’t do my work; I do it, I just
don’t hand it in on time. I did about eighty-five
percent of my homework and projects, and I
somehow manage to maintain a B+ average. A few
gasps sounded throughout the classroom and I gave
them flat looks. Can they be any more dramatic?
Mr. Gonzales continued teaching and a few moments
into his lesson, the door was opened slowly. “Mr.
Gonzales?” Where did I recognize his voice?
“Ah, Mr. Davis, come in. Take a seat,” Mr. Gonzales
greeted as he opened the door for the mystery guy.
The boy walked in and I instantly recognized him-
the guy from the library yesterday.
His eyes gazed over the classroom and I tried to
duck my head but I wasn’t fast enough. I heard girls
gasp at his appearance and the once quiet classroom
turned into a lunchroom, minus the food of course.
Mr. G would never allow food in his classroom, aside
from his own. The gasps grew louder as his feet
walked along the aisle. I couldn’t help but look up and
he noticed me. If I didn’t look up, he wouldn’t have
“Is this seat taken?” ‘Mr. Davis’ asked as he held the
back of the seat. I had the urge to say ‘yes’ and
watch in victory as he walked away defeated,
however, Francis Martin beat me to it. The idiot
turned around in his chair and gave a large grin.
“Nope and it never is, not like it’s surprising. Sitting
there is social suicide,” he snorted, laughing along
with his friends. Francis never was a big fan of me
and vice versa.
“Nobody likes you, Franny,” I hissed rather
childishly. He glared at me and gave me the one
finger salute. I rolled my eyes while Mr. Gonzales
practically had a near death experience. His hand
went to his heart and he stared at us.
“Mr. Martin! Ms. Harp! Another interruption and I’m
sending you both to detention for a week. That seat
happens to be available, Mr. Davis,” Mr. Gonzales
nodded at ‘Mr. Davis.’
‘Mr. Davis’ sat down with a smirk. He pulled the seat
from under the desk and flopped down comfortably.
His books sat on the table as he yanked his chair
closer to the desk and rested his head on his
Mr. Gonzales got on with his lesson and I felt the
new boy’s eyes on me. “What?” I asked as I turned
to glare at him.
“You know, I didn’t catch your name yesterday,” he
replied, a sly smirk spreading across his lips.
“That’s because I didn’t toss it,” I bit back, watching
as Mr. G scribbled along the board; my eyes made
out a timeline. My glasses wouldn’t help in this case;
Mr. G happens to be a terrible artist.
“Well, can you toss it? I’m open,” I glowered at him
before rolling my eyes with a sigh.
“Savannah,” I announced. “What about you, Mr.
“Jonah,” he simply introduced.
The rest of the class went by smoothly aside from
the not-so-subtle elbowing or chair kicking on my
part; it serves him right for sitting beside me,
especially after his daring acts yesterday. When the
bell rang, I was up and nearly sprinting out of the
classroom before someone grabbed my shoulder,
causing me to jerk backwards. I ripped my arm out
of his grip, my face contorting into one of disgust.
“What?” I groaned.