Chapter 16

Arnaldo fell to his seat at the back of the class. It was the day after and he felt exhausted, which was not surprising since the first two periods on Monday were PE.

"I don't have a problem with PE, in fact, I quite enjoy it. But man, can our gym teacher be sadistic."

He slammed his head onto his desk and let out an exhausted sigh.

"Oh quit whining. It's not that bad," said Laura from her desk that was in front of his.

"Easy for you to say! You have a different gym teacher!" complained Arnaldo, not lifting his head.

"First it was half an hour of wall climbing, immediately followed by half an hour of basketball. After that came a full hour of running in the park! What the Hell did you do for two hours?!"

"One hour of gymnastics and then an hour of volleyball," replied Laura casually and Arnaldo lifted his head and then promptly slammed it back onto the table.

"-ow-" was his muffled cry.

Their homeroom they were in was big and was filled with their fellow classmates. The students were talking to each other, some more audible than others. Some students were on their phones, completely blocking the outside world. Most of the male students, however, like Arnaldo, were completely exhausted and were almost melting in their seats.

The classroom itself was located on the second floor, overlooking the small park outside the school. Various globes and maps from different centuries and in different languages decorated the white walls.

The bell rang and all the students quickly scrambled to their respective seats. Soon after the bell rang, the door to the classroom opened and in stepped their geography, history and homeroom teacher, Professor Osbourne Graham.

Graham was considered a veteran among professors and it's easy to see why. He was the oldest professor that the school had. His grey, almost white cowlick hair fell just above his piercing, amber eyes. Small square glasses rested on his nose and his lips seemed to be permanently chiselled into a frown. He wore a suede jacket and underneath that was a dark purple shirt that was tucked into his blue jeans.

He walked in front of a Dutch eighteenth-century map of Europe and all the students stood up and straightened their backs. This was a man who demanded respect, discipline and obedience. His piercing grey eyes scanned the classroom, hunting for anyone who dared to not be standing.

"Sit," he ordered in a calm, clear yet tired voice. He walked over to his desk and set down his things.

"Let me ask you a question," he said as he started walking among the rows of desks. "Do you believe in a friendship that can last forever?"

Confused glances were shared among students and Graham sighed and walked in front of the map.

"I know that this may seem like an odd question to ask. But I ask because that exactly will be our topic for today. Today we will be talking about the Anglo-Portuguese Alliance. Also known as the oldest alliance in the world," he explained, gesturing to England and Portugal with his hand.

The scribbling of notebooks could be heard as he started explaining.

"The alliance started with the Anglo-Portuguese Treaty of 1373. Now, the English have helped out Portugal in the past such as in the 1147 siege of Lisbon. But this pact sealed the alliance between the two nations. The most important part of the treaty states: 'It is cordially agreed that if, in time to come, one of the kings or his heir shall need the support of the other or his help, and in order to get such assistance applies to his ally in a lawful manner, the ally shall be bound to give aid and succour to the other, so far as he is able to the extent required by the danger to his ally's realms, lands, domains, and subjects; and he shall be firmly bound by these present alliances to do this'," he stated while writing down on the chalkboard.

Arnaldo followed suit, writing down in his notebook.

"After all," he thought, "I'm a 5.0 GPA student and I'm not gonna start slacking off now."

"Psst! Hey!" whispered Laura to him.

"What?!" he asked back in a harsh whisper.

"Do you know the combination to Matt's locker?" Arnaldo blinked.

"Really?! Now?!"

"Just answer the damn question!"

"Yes, I know his stupid combination!" sighed Arnaldo.

"Great! Then you're gonna help me out during lunch break. You'll open his locker and I will dump my letters into it."

"My letters! And I never agreed to- "

"Mister Caglione," called out Mr Graham. Arnaldo winced and prepared himself for the punishment he was about to receive.

"Yes, sir?"

"I want you to prepare a full slide show presentation as well as an essay on the history of both England and Portugal. I give you one week. Hopefully, this will teach you not to talk during my lesson."

"Yes sir-" he sighs as he slumps back in his chair.

"Ok so, Portugal has about- a whole school years' worth of history. And England has- the same amount if not more-" he grabbed a fistful of his chocolate hair and rested his elbows on his desk.

"Someone please just actually kill me-"

The rest of the lesson went uninterrupted and soon enough the bell rang, signifying their lunch break.

"Ok, I won't keep you here any longer. Enjoy your lunch break", said the professor to the students who were already stuffing their bags with their books.

"Thank you, sir!" they all replied in unison as they scrambled to either the cafeteria for a quick bite or were heading outside to either enjoy the nice spring weather or enjoy a cigarette.

But Arnaldo and Laura didn't go to the cafeteria, much to Arnaldo's protest, or outside, again to his dismay.

They walked to the lockers and Arnaldo quickly found Matt's locker and entered the combination. His locker was empty, except for his gym clothes. Laura grabbed one of the letters and placed it inside. She closed the locker and Arnaldo spotted a wide smile creep on her face.

He also saw Matt walking to his locker and scrolling on his phone.

Both of their eyes quickly widened and they hid behind the lockers. Matt casually walked over to his locker and opened it. He grabbed his clothes and just before he was about to leave, he noticed that a letter has fallen out of his locker. He raised an eyebrow, picked up the letter and examined the pink envelope.

"Strawberries-" he said as he sniffed the letter.

He shrugged, stuffed the letter into his backpack and left.

Once the coast was clear, Laura and Arnaldo stepped out of hiding.

"Really? He didn't even read it?! Why the nerve of that guy!" grumbled Laura.

"I don't know what I'm more concerned about; the fact that he sniffed the letter or the fact that you used perfume."

A punch came flying towards, aiming directly for his stomach and he knelt over, clutching himself in pain.

"God I hate you," he wheezed out.

"Oh you love me and you know it."

Arnaldo groaned again and stood himself upright.

"No, but really, strawberries?"

Laura glared at him and began dragging him by his ear towards the cafeteria.

"Ow! Ow! Ow! Laura! Ow! Stop! Ow!" were his cries of pain that fell on deaf ears.