Chapter 4: NIC

Raven POV

The class was supposed to last for an hour. But Mr. Velgoth never took the complete time in any of his classes.

This time around all he did was divide us into groups. Senior year project groups. As journalism major, senior year project was a practical one, where each sets of students would be assigned to journal about a given place, group or event.

I fixated at the screen. I couldn't wait to see what category I was placed in. Journalism had always been my passion, and I was damn good at it.

The electronic board lit up with our names and groups and my stomach twisted. The class went quiet for at least five seconds as we all tried to find our names and groups. Before another wave of chattering steered up.

I could already see my name in the first group alongside a name I'd dreaded for long.

Zoey Bennett.

She was a pain in the ass and a good one at that. Ever since freshman year, we'd be some sort of rivals, contending for the best grades in every class. Some students would even make side bets on which of us would bag higher grades in a paper.

But Zoey wasn't just the reason I had a tug in my stomach. In fact it was less about her and more about the group itself— I'd be drafted under the: N.I.C JOURNALISM

Shit. Journaling about the hockey championship meant seeing Jace and a huge number of insatiable sex-oriented jocks for the rest of senior year. And that wasn't even a fraction close to what I'd planned for my senior year.

I took a deep breath to calm myself—a technique I'd learn over the years. I wasn't going to allow Zoey and Jace ruin my senior year.

I strode down the steps. Heading straight to Mr Velgoth. I was his favorite student. And I figured I'd use that to my advantage and ask for another group entirely.

Each stride brought me closer to him. And it didn't take many for me to end up in front of him.

“Good Morning Mr. Vel” I greeted and he replied. He had this funny Northwestern Europe accent that I'd swear was Scotland. No, Ireland. Definitely Ireland.

“Can I get a transfer to another group?” I asked, and he looked at me with raised eyebrows and a slight tilt of his head. His face didn't say no—but it clearly demanded an explanation before he'd even consider saying yes. “I can't stick to my group due to... conflicting interest.” I manage to say, trying not to lie.

Mr Velgoth didn't reply immediately. Instead he pushed his glasses slightly down. “And how about I give you a D-minus, due to conflicting interest too?”

A D-minus? Okay I might have misjudged how much of his favorite student I was. Shit.

I nodded, turning back. I could see Lyra at the exit door already, holding the tablet containing our attendance list. So I head straight for her.

“You look like Tom Cruise after a failed mission.” Lyra teased, but I knew beneath that tone, was my best friend worried about me. “What happened with him?” she nodge towards Mr Velgoth.

“Nothing serious,” I lie—trying not to overthink about how much of my senior year has been altered by this stupid project group—but then again, I know better to think that Lyra was going to let it slide. So I just spill everything to her.

“How about you focus on the positives here,” Her lips curved into an encouraging smile, but the hesitation in her eyes betrayed the fact that she wasn't entirely convinced by the next advice she was about to give.

“Which Is?”

“You get to come with me to the games.”

I shrugged. Lyra never misses the games because her boyfriend, Damian, also plays for the Everfrost’s hockey team. And that could have been nice, only if I didn't rate hockey next to polictics in my boring list.

I part the conner of my lips—trying to fake a smile. It can't be that bad right? Go to the games... Journal about the Championship and leave.. Right? But my self-assurance comes to an unsatisfied end when the voice behind me hits me.

“Paired together again, huh?” Zoey's tone comes out sarcastic. “Be careful you don't want to disappoint Mr Velgoth.”

I scoffed. At this point I'm much interested in having my senior year be boring like my previous years, than having to impress anyone. But before I could wipe that lousy smirk off Zoey, Lyra beats me to it.

“I think you should be worried Zo... Cause Rav here always ends up shoving your ass up in that second place to her in everything.”

Fuck. I'm trying hard not to laugh now. Even tho I'm never the type to brag, Lyra always finds a way to do it for me.

“Uh huh?,” Zoey smirks, and I know she has one more up her sleeve. “Only because we're paired to do boring nerdy stuff, this time it's NIC Lyra... Does Rav even go to the games?”

Okay I was right. Zoey had one more up her sleeve and it was brutal, cause I'm now processing everything we've been up together since freshman year and she's right. Shit.

Zoey laughs, walking away with some of her sorority girls.

“Hey, I think this the time you do your coffee thing.” Lyra states.

And hell she's right. I'd resort to coffee whenever I'm about to panic. And I'd end up with a brilliant idea... I don't know why, but it works for me.

Lyra and I walk down to the cafeteria. I take a sit while Lyra does the pleasure to go get our coffee. I try to be bury my self in the Ethics textbook I picked up earlier. But that fails too cause the only thing I'm staring at right now is a Grimviel.

Jett slides into my table. Dressed in his usual cooperate attire that somehow still made him look hot. “Been looking for you... You... been... hard.. to.. find.” Half his attention fixated on his phone.

“Yeah? I don't think you searched hard enough.”

“What?” Now I think I've got more than half his attention because he slams his phone down. “Where have you been? I texted.”

Texted?. I'd be lying if that doesn't feel like a knife in the stomach. “Pictures of you with sorority girls counts as a text?” Of course it counts as a text to him. I'm nothing but his shoulder to cry on.

“I thought you liked it, Rav... You've always liked being around me.”

Oh now... That's his excuse 'I just like being around him.' He'd literally summarized years of close friendship to me just liking to be around him.

Heat flushes through my body simultaneously with my quivering muscles. And I just to want to slap the living day light out of him. But I don't do any of that. Not going to give him the satisfaction of thinking he meant more to me than I meant to him.

“By the way, you've been going crazy on I***a for a few days now.” Jett said, acting like the whole no text thing meant nothing. Classic Jett. Whenever we'd bump into a serious argument, he'd change the whole topic like it was nothing.

“Uh huh.” my face now buried in the textbook in my hand.

“You know Jace is a dick head.”

“Is that why you never told me about him for seven years?” I asked, still not raising my head.

“Uhmm...” Jett pauses, and although I hate every single second I get to hear his stupid self talk. I still want to hear what new stupid excuse he has. “He’s not important Rav, Just stay away from him as far as possible.”

The me three weeks ago would have listened to him. But that's not me now. And I don't get to listen to either of the Grimviels.

“How about you come shopping with me.” Jett says and my attention spikes. Is that his way of saying sorry? Of apologizing for his behavior? A fraction of me that still wished Jett and I would've worked seems to lit up. But disappointment crawls back when he finishes. “Sharon plans on changing her wardrobe and i know I'd need a hand with the purchases.”

Of course he wasn't trying to apologize—Another wave a heat rushes through my body, and I clenched my fists tightly around the textbook.—he was inviting me to shopping so I could help him carry things for Sharon.

Before I could say a word. Jett stands up. And I understand why because I see Sharon closing in on us. They both of them aren't the best of friends.

Jett leaves and Sharon hands me a cup of coffee. But she leaves too, because Damian is waiting for her outside.

My phone pings of a notification. And It was a gossip account. An interview video of Jace with Olivia Brooks.

Fuck. He knows her too. Brooks was my idol. A decorated journalist. And Jace knows her?

I take a sip of my coffee and then the idea hits me. If I'm going to be stuck with the NIC, I'd be better make the best out of it.