Just Like Heaven

Not Just Another Love Song

ARTHUR COOPER, YOU need to see me after class, Mr. Hollins said, his voice stern. Sitting in his usual seat toward the back of the classroom, Arthur rolled his eyes dramatically and sighed.

Please try to take something seriously, for once, Mr. Hollins stated before returning to the whiteboard and continuing to explain to his class of seniors the developments which led to the start of the Civil War. As a younger man he’d been a passionate teacher, and his students had hung onto his every word, but that was a long time ago. Now both he and the teenagers he taught were bored by what he had to say.

Arthur Cooper was no exception. He hated American History. In fact, he hated all his classes except Physical Education because that was the only way he excelled without putting in any effort. He was a natural athlete, built tall and strong, and his skill on the football field had been nurtured ever since he’d first caught a ball at the tender age of five.

To Arthur, studies didn’t matter, because knowing why the Civil War began wouldn’t help him win games. Algebra didn’t make him faster, French didn’t make him stronger. Classes were a waste of his time, and he wasn’t shy in showing it.

After the end of class had been signaled by the bell, the rest of the students filtered out, eager to leave, but Arthur dutifully slunk over to Mr. Hollins’ desk, hoping that whatever his teacher wanted to say would be said quickly.

Mr. Cooper. Mr. Hollins shuffled through a stack of papers and handed Arthur the one which had his name written upon it, beside an F marked in bold red ink. Arthur didn’t flinch; he’d seen plenty of Fs before.

You are failing American History.

Okay.

Well, it’s not okay. Not by a long shot. I’ve spoken with the other teachers, and you are failing pretty much all of your subjects.

Arthur was silent. He didn’t enjoy being berated by anyone, be it his teachers, his coach, or his father. He had learned it was best to say nothing, and then when the lecture was over he could leave and just forget all about it.

I know that all that matters to you is football, Mr. Hollins said delicately, not wanting to see another jock leave school without an ounce of education to support them in the real world. And for some strange reason he liked Arthur. Occasionally during class he caught him really listening, but the moment he came to his senses and remembered where he was, or rather who he was, he resumed making a show of indifference. Mr. Hollins hated the politics which polluted high school; it stifled all students in one way or another.

Football is pretty important, Mr. Hollins, Arthur countered. It is one of the highest profile sports in the world.

So where do you see your future? Playing in the NFL? The question was delivered with almost a mocking tone, as both knew Arthur would never be good enough for that level of play. Players who got drafted for the NFL were exceptional; Arthur was merely good. Good enough to be a high school star, but not a national one.

I don’t know, Arthur shrugged petulantly. He hated talking about his future because it scared him. He enjoyed high school, and the fact that in a few months it would be over forever was incredibly daunting. He had no idea what he wanted from his life; like most eighteen-year-olds he was just meandering through, delaying the inevitable moment when he would have to grow up and take responsibility for his life.

I think the best solution here would be for you to get a tutor, Mr. Hollins suggested.

What? Arthur was outraged.

Mr. Hollins, I’m not some special needs kid who needs extra help. I’m not stupid!

Well, your grades beg to differ. Mr. Hollins tapped the F on the paper and Arthur sighed, wishing he’d participated more, as it would have saved him this current social injustice.

I know a girl, a senior, she is great.

Look, Mr. Hollins- Arthur began, but his teacher cut him off.

This isn’t up for discussion, Mr. Cooper. Her name is Demi and she will meet you in study hall after school tomorrow.

Arthur absorbed this order, already plotting ways to evade the meeting.

But how will I know who she is? he challenged, desperate to pick holes in the idea.

You won’t, but she’ll know who you are, Mr. Hollins answered.

She will?

Cooper, you are captain of the football team. I doubt there is anyone at Collinswood High who doesn’t know who you are.

Arthur just shrugged this off and headed for the door.

Remember, study hall after school tomorrow, Mr. Hollins called after him. I need to see your grades improve- and quickly, or you may not be graduating.

Entering the corridor Arthur exhaled and shook his head, knowing that grades were definitely not worth enduring an hour with some overachiever in study hall. Still, that wasn’t until tomorrow, which meant that the evening was now his. Shaking it off, he fell in to a sprint and ran down the hallway toward the main doors and freedom. The only thing he intended to study was his current form on the football field.

DEMI MITCHELL SAT NERVOUSLY chewing the end of her pencil, her American History book open before her at some random page because she wasn’t focused on what was in the book. Her attention firmly rested upon the entrance to the study hall, located only ten feet away. Each time it swung open her heart flew into her mouth. As she sat there, she grew increasingly anxious and wished she hadn’t agreed to any of it.

In the backpack by her feet, Demi’s Sidekick vibrated, taking her stare briefly away from the door. Leaning down, she fumbled around for it before flicking it open to see a message from her best friend, Hayley:

Is he there yet? Xox

The he mentioned was Arthur Cooper, captain of the football team, and the previous day, Demi had foolishly agreed to tutor him. It was ridiculous, and she knew it. He was the most popular guy in school and she was... well... invisible.

Ever since high school had begun, Demi had faded into the background. She failed to do things which would make her stand out: wearing tight sweaters and makeup and dating boys. Instead she preferred to focus on her studies, much to her father’s delight. Even though she was now seventeen, she still had sleepovers with her best friends every other weekend. She enjoyed foreign films, sushi, and had never dyed her hair. At high school, Demi had never fit in. To a guy like Arthur, a jock, she would be just another nerd.

Yet for some reason Demi had agreed to tutor him. Yes, he was undeniably handsome, but looks didn’t manipulate her thoughts the way they seemed to for other girls her age. She agreed because Arthur seemed interesting, and she couldn’t put her finger on why. She hoped that when he did finally show up, she hadn’t made the wrong decision.

Arthur Cooper breezed into study hall, ignoring the flurry of eyes that suddenly flicked up from their books to settle upon him. He looked out across the desks and bookshelves, not sure what or rather who, he was looking for.

He noticed a hand tentatively rise in the air, and he sauntered over, assuming it belonged to his new tutor.

Hi. He didn’t even make eye contact with her, instead slumping down in the chair across from her before absently running his hand through his sandy-colored hair.

You’re late. Demi didn’t mean to instantly chastise him, but the words escaped her mouth before she could stop them. She loathed tardiness.

Arthur looked at her now, surprised at how brazen she had been to say that. He was high school royalty; he arrived when he felt like it, surely everyone knew that?

Demi held his gaze, her green eyes defiant, and Arthur mused over how pretty she was and wondered why he’d never seen her before at one of the many house parties he went to.

I had training.

Well, you need to make sure your training doesn’t conflict with your tutoring sessions.

Whoa, okay. Arthur was taken aback with how strict she was. Well, give me your number, and next time I’m running late I’ll text you.

I’m not giving you my number. Demi shook her head, her dark hair dancing upon her shoulders as she did so.

Dumbstruck, Arthur felt his cheeks flush. No girl had ever denied him their number; most fell over themselves just to get him to say hello to them. Perhaps this girl didn’t realize who he was.

I had training because I’m captain of the football team, so I couldn’t miss it.

Uh huh. Demi couldn’t have sounded less interested. Mr. Hollins said you are failing American History and suggested we focus specifically on the Civil War. He believes if you do well enough on your final you may still pass and graduate. She motioned to the open book before her.

So if you get your textbook out, we can go through this chapter together now.

Arthur went to retrieve his book and then realized he’d forgotten it. Typical. Rather than admit as much, he decided to try to change topics.

I didn’t even get your name, he began, but Demi saw through it right away.

You don’t have your book, do you? she sighed.

No, I don’t, Arthur admitted lamely, and for some reason he added an apology: I’m sorry.

It’s okay, just use mine. Demi slid her book across the desk to Arthur where he stopped it with his hand.

Chapter 8 will explain everything in enough detail for now, she began. Also, these DVDs are really useful, especially if you don’t like reading; they are all in the school library. She handed Arthur a small piece of paper with a short list neatly written on it. He noted how her handwriting flowed elegantly on the paper, the letters joining together in one fluid motion.

You wrote this out for me?

Demi shrugged nonchalantly. It was no big deal. Most people prefer the DVDs.

Maybe it was because he had been struck by her beauty or because he simply hated to feel like he wasn’t being desired, but Arthur suddenly asked,

Why don’t we watch them together? This weekend or something?

I’ve seen them, Demi answered flatly. She then picked up her Sidekick, encased in a dark green cover, flicked it open, and looked toward the door to the study hall.

I’m sorry, but I’ve got to go. She didn’t sound the least bit apologetic.

But I’ve just arrived, Arthur protested.

Well, you were late, Demi answered simply, already rising from her chair. We can meet at three tomorrow and go over the chapter if you read it tonight. Though it was implied as a question, she delivered it more as a statement.

Okay then, bye. Arthur watched her leave, noticing how her low-hung jeans hugged her body in all the right places.

Demi fretted as she scurried away from study hall that she had been too mean, too aloof, but he intimidated her so much. The thought of enduring any more time alone with him terrified her.

By himself in the study hall, Arthur surveyed the book she had left him before opening the front cover where the same cursive writing from the note was there, telling him her name: Demi Mitchell. It wasn’t a name he’d encountered before, but it was certainly one he wasn’t going to forget.

SO... WHAT WAS HE LIKE? Hayley Russell eagerly asked her best friend the following day as they walked from the bus stop to school. I texted you like six times last night, but you didn’t get back to me, she continued.

I was tired, Demi explained.

Okay. But you still haven’t said what he was like.

He was... I don’t know. A typical guy, Demi answered vaguely.

Wow, great answer. Hayley laughed sarcastically.

I can’t really give you an answer. I don’t know him.

What’s to know, he’s a jock, Hayley chatted as they ascended the steps which led into the school.

He seems different though, Demi mused.

Different how? Hayley pressed.

I don’t know.

Demi wondered if perhaps she was seeing something that wasn’t even there. After all, she knew nothing about Arthur Cooper other than his reputation, which wasn’t good. On paper he was the sort of guy she’d hate, yet in person she didn’t loathe him; he had intrigued her.

ARTHUR TYPED THE MESSAGE into his phone and pressed send, feeling his heart race slightly as he did so. It hadn’t been difficult to discover Demi’s phone number since he was connected to just about everyone at the school. Right after first period had ended, he had stolen away from his friends for a moment alone so that he could construct the perfect message. He never normally cared what he wrote to girls, but this was different. He feared what Demi would think and how the message would be received.

Hearing her Sidekick vibrate, Demi pulled it from her bag as she wandered down the hall, assuming it was Hayley, probably wanting the answer to an algebra equation as she