Welcome Back
768 Words
The car ride to school was dull, as usual. James sat behind the wheel, his face stuck in permanent “I’m-so-serious” mode. Occasionally, he’d clear his throat, probably thinking of something “professional” to say, but I wasn’t interested. My brain was preoccupied with more important things—like what outfit would make me look amazing at cheer practice later.
When we finally pulled up to the school, I grabbed my bag and reached for the door, ready to escape the awkward silence. But nope. Not so fast. A hand on my arm stopped me in my tracks.
“Miss Monroe.” His voice was low and serious—like he was auditioning for a movie trailer about overprotective bodyguards. “I’m required to stay with you throughout the day. Your father’s orders.”
I gave him my best you-have-got-to-be-kidding-me look. “James, I don’t need a babysitter. I’ll be in class, surrounded by teachers and students. I think I’ll survive.”
He didn’t even blink. “Not negotiable.”
“Of course not,” I muttered, sighing dramatically. With no other choice, I swung my bag over my shoulder and marched into the building, James trailing behind me like a very stylish shadow.
The day dragged. Everywhere I went, there he was, standing just outside my classes, looming in doorways like some kind of brooding action hero. It was so annoying. And embarrassing. People kept staring at him, then at me, and then back at him. It was like walking around with a flashing neon sign that said I have a bodyguard.
By lunchtime, I’d had enough. If he wanted to follow me everywhere, fine. I’d make sure his first day at school was a memorable one.
As we approached the cafeteria, I turned to him with the sweetest, most innocent smile I could muster. “Hey, James, why don’t you meet me inside? I just need to grab something from my locker. I’ll be right back!”
He frowned. “Miss Monroe—”
“Relax,” I said, already backing away. “It’s, like, twenty steps. What could possibly happen?”
He hesitated but finally nodded. “Don’t be long.”
Oh, I wouldn’t.
But he definitely would be.
I sprinted to the cafeteria’s side entrance, where my friends were waiting. They grinned when they saw me, our plan already in motion.
When James walked through the cafeteria doors, the chaos began.
The first phase: a loud and completely off-key rendition of Happy Birthday. My friends stood on chairs, belting it out like their lives depended on it. The entire cafeteria joined in, clapping and cheering.
James stopped in his tracks, his brows furrowing in confusion. He glanced around, probably wondering whose birthday it was.
And then—phase two.
“WELCOME BACK TO SCHOOL, JAMES!” someone shouted.
Before he could react, a giant cake appeared out of nowhere. Frosting and sprinkles, all smashed directly into his face.
The cafeteria exploded with laughter.
I clapped a hand over my mouth, trying to stifle my giggles as James froze, his expression hidden behind a mountain of frosting.
And because my friends are nothing if not extra, one of them stepped up to him with a grin, leaned in, and planted a loud, smacking kiss on his cheek.
“Thanks for making our year already!” she said, winking at him before disappearing into the crowd.
It was glorious.
But then—because apparently, my school is a circus—a rogue handful of spaghetti flew through the air, hitting some random guy in the back of the head.
That’s when it happened.
The food fight to end all food fights.
Spoons of mashed potatoes, slices of pizza, and even an entire tray of fries went flying. People screamed and ducked, laughing as chaos erupted. James, still dripping with cake, looked around like he was trying to figure out who to arrest first.
Meanwhile, I was safely tucked behind a corner, laughing so hard I could barely breathe. Watching the unflappable, serious James try to navigate a cafeteria warzone was hands-down the best moment of my life.
But, of course, it didn’t last. His head snapped in my direction, frosting and all, and I could tell—he knew.
Uh-oh.
I bolted.
“Miss Monroe!” His voice boomed, cutting through the chaos, but I was already halfway down the hallway.
Today had been a masterpiece. And sure, I’d probably pay for it later, but it was so worth it.
James wanted to stick to me like glue? Well, welcome to high school, buddy.
- Writer
