The Academy--Chapter Three--Continued, CONTINUED!

Yeah, so, I wanted to post more nonsense, but I don't know if I can put what I WANT to say in words yet, so, I thought I would post this.

“Oh, come on, tell me.”
“Kind of. I guess.”
“‘Kind of, I guess’,” she mimicked. “You do. I can tell! You don’t call any other guys that you know ‘smart’ and ‘great’.”
She was right. So, instead of contradicting her, I let her fantasize about my life with him for me. She talked about how when we were older and we got out of high school, we would get married and name our kids cool names like Alastair. I laughed, but knew that would never happen. After I went to high school, getting married wouldn’t be what I concentrated on. I would be a scientist, or an artist, or an author–I would have some type of career before I thought about making anybody my husband.
We laughed all the way up to our apartment, where we immediately started on our homework. Not too long into our studies, a knock on the door broke our attention. It was Cadence.
“I have a note,” she said through the door.
“From Jasper!” Avery exclaimed, running to open the door. “Give it here!”
Cadence caught Avery’s overly anxious hand and giggled. “It’s not for you. It’s for Poppy.”
A little awestruck by this explanation, I rose slowly to my feet and came away from my desk. Cadence placed the small, folded piece of paper into my hand and walked out of our apartment.
I cleared a space on my desk and sat down. Oddly, Avery didn’t pry. She simply walked across the room and sat at her desk resolutely.
The thought of who the note was from and what it said sent a shot of adrenaline through me. Excited, I quickly unfolded the paper to find it blank. Perplexed, I folded and unfolded the paper several times, searching each side stupidly. There was no writing on it – at all.
“What does it say?” Avery’s tone was strangely bland and uninterested. “Is it from him?”
“I don’t even know.”
Avery finally showed the same curiousness I had always seen in her and ran to my side. Just as confused as I was, she snatched the college-ruled leaf from my hands and sought a trace of ink or lead. Nothing.
“Odd,” she said simply, folding the paper back up and tossing it nonchalantly toward me. She returned to her empty emotion and her desk without another word.
I scowled at the girl for being so un-Avery; however, she wasn’t even looking at me anymore, so it didn’t matter. I crumpled the paper and threw it at the garbage can beside my desk, missing, as expected. With quick, short movements, I pulled the mass of worksheets and study guides toward me. For the next few hours, all I did was work furiously to finish every problem as fast as possible. I finished at nine o’ clock: an hour before bed.
I shoved the desk chair backward, almost sending it toppling over itself. I grabbed a coat from the closet and opened the apartment door.
“I’m going for a walk.”
Avery’s pencil dropped from her hand, all of the tenseness from concentration gone from her body. She peered over her shoulder at me. “You’re done?”
“Yes.”
“Well, don’t blame me when tomorrow your teachers bust you for getting all of those problems wrong,” she snapped.
“They’re not wrong!” sprung to my tongue, and with it, a bitter taste. I swallowed the words back down, ignored her irritating attitude, and slammed the door behind me. I took quick strides down the hall to the left and knocked at Cadence’s apartment, number 306.