Two's a Crowd [Jeff]

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Charlie snapped the clip of his pen with is thumb, enjoying the sharp, vexing noise it produced. He thought it reflected his mood properly, having been assigned to yet another group project with his new best friend, Jeff McIntosh. He peered contemptuously over his book to glance at his partner, and pulled back the plastic clip once again, but this time the clip snapped off the pen and flew off, hitting him on the cheek. He didn’t even bother acknowledging it as it bounced off the table and landed on the library’s floor.



Rubbing his stinging cheek, he hoped that the boy sitting across from his didn’t notice his blunder. That would only dampen his mood further. The last project the two had worked on ended in a disaster, their first meeting ending in argument and Charlie was sure that if they had a second meeting it would end in an exchange of fists. Last time they managed to finish the project in one sitting, but this time it was more complicated. It involved a collaborative presentation, with equal speaking time between the two. While the assignment was no sweat for Charlie, he still wished that he was assigned with a partner he was more compatible with.




Clearing his throat, he broke the silence. “So, how do you want to break up the work?” He asked referring to the assignment, a detailed analysis on one of the themes in Hamlet. Too bad he didn’t even crack open the book until this very moment.

[Jeff McIntosh]

Jeff was convinced that teachers assigned group projects in the worst manner possible on purpose. How else could one explain that he had ended up on a team with Charlie Nielson again? Charlie didn't look any happier about this state of affairs than Jeff felt, which was a relief in a way; perhaps they could bond over how miserable being assigned to one another was. 

Shakespeare wasn't exactly his forte, and, further he hated speaking assignments. He didn't want to get up in front of the class and blunder his way through some absurd artsy misunderstanding of ancient literature. 

"How're we supposed to know what themes there are?" He complained, tapping his pencil against the desk. "It's in, like, old English or something." 

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“Hell if I know,” he muttered, flipping through the pages with his thumb, lost in the columns of lengthy dialog. He stopped on a page where a character named Ophelia was speaking, who he remembered from their discussions in class, but when he tried to read the text all he got was a headache. Why were they assigned something so cryptic and confusing that he doubted even people four hundred years ago knew what was going on.

He slammed the book down and looked back at Jeff, asking, “Is there a movie version? Or maybe a student who can time travel us back, to what, the Sixteenth Century so we can ask The Bard himself what he was thinking when he wrote this crap? Although, I’m guessing we’ll just end up being burnt at the stake.”