The Natural History of Us (The Fine Art of Pretending #2)(2)
I’m mid hand-clench when the bell rings. Coach Stasi appears and conversations mute into whispers. She begins striding toward her desk, arms filled with papers and a loose shoelace slapping the floor, headed straight to where I am seated dead center in the room. So, naturally, this is when it happens. On my desktop, lit up like a tattling beacon, my phone decides to finally go off—double time.
First Katy Perry and then Hunter Hayes serenade the room in Faith and Cade’s designated text ringtones as my feeble fingers frantically fumble with the stupid case. With the collective classroom’s gaze upon me, I switch the device over to silent and lift my head to meet my fate. Coach’s stare is pointed, albeit slightly amused.
Yep. I’m screwed.
Officially, phones aren’t allowed in school. “They are a distraction and a hindrance to higher learning.” But we’re seniors, the countdown to blessed freedom is on, and in the face of rampant, class-wide rebellion, most teachers have adopted a lax policy. If they don’t see it and can’t hear it, they don’t really care. Unfortunately, in this case, I’m two for two.
Heat infuses my cheeks as Lauren snickers behind me, and I remind myself yet again of my New Year’s resolution. Only three more weeks until graduation.
Ignoring Lauren, I lift a shoulder and stretch my lips into a wide, cheesy grin. “Oopsie.”
Coach shakes her head with a silent laugh then rolls her eyes dramatically before turning to face her desk, needlessly shuffling the pristine stack of papers in her hands on its surface. Thus allowing me to check my messages.
I’ve always said Coach is one of the good ones.
Faith’s text is first: Breathe, girl. No matter what, we got this. fist bump
I lift my fist in the air, imagining her fierce scowl of confidence, and switch over to Cade’s: We’ll figure something out. Promise.
Relief floods my veins in a cool, calm rush. This is reason number five thousand and eleven why my friends are made of win. Faith is my voice of reason and fearless counterpart, and Cade… well, whatever Cade is, he gets it. Gets me. They’re the only two who know about my rodeo fears since the accident, and if they think this is fine, then it will be.
Nodding to myself, almost even believing it, I shift my thumbs to reply when a second text comes in. This one private, just for me.
Cade: P.S: Love you!
A wince forms before I can stop it. I’m fully aware this response makes me horrid, and a frisson of self-loathing creeps down my spine. Cade Donovan is everything a girl could want in a boyfriend—he’s everything I should want. Funny and smart, a great listener. Cute in that pretty-boy, CW actor sort of way, and an ass that fills out a pair of Levis like whoa. He’s been one of my closest friends since I wore a training bra, my rock the last few years, and in a perfect world, a world where my heart wasn’t completely decimated, I’d be ecstatic to hear those words coming from him. Sadly, life is far from perfect.
The truth is, I do love Cade. Just not in the way he wants me to.
“All right, kids, settle down.”
As Coach Stasi nudges the last few stragglers toward their seats, my friend Mi-Mi hurrying among them, I blow out a breath. With one eye closed, I quickly type the generic (and pathetic) xoxo, then power off my phone, stomach churning with guilt.
“We’re in the home stretch,” our teacher says, causing cheers to erupt across the room. Her smile widens and she nods. “Yep, graduation is just around the corner, and today kicks off our last major project of the year.”
Those cheers turn to groans and she laughs aloud, somewhat gleefully. Coach is cool as far as teachers go, but she’s also a bit of a sadist.
“I know, I know, Senioritis is rampant,” she continues. “But folks, I hate to say it, school’s not over yet. Lucky for you, this last section is going to be our best yet.”
From the desk beside mine, Mi-Mi turns to face me, wide eyes flared with interest. The two of us are in the same boat, school schedules packed to the max, but for completely different reasons. Mine is overloaded with extra science and math classes prepping for Vet school, while hers are full of every art, music, and theater class our school provides. She’s our resident thespian.
Mi-Mi has a love/hate relationship with Family and Consumer Sciences. She prefers classes where she can split eardrums, get messy, and become someone else, but the number of male students in here looking for an easy A makes up for it. As for me? I get my kicks with a good theorem, and centripetal force makes my heart skip a beat, but FACS is my guilty pleasure. It allows my brain to breathe. Projects are easy and we study things we may actually use in everyday life, unlike, say, the mating habits of fruit flies.
Just thinking of last year’s Bio II lab gives me the heebie-jeebies.
Coach strides across the floor with a bounce in her step, tapping her fingertips together à la evil scientist. “You kids are gonna be my guinea pigs,” she says. “This year, I’m changing things up a bit, combining a few sections, adding a new one. A mini-experiment, if you will. As I’m sure Alyssa can tell you, I love shaking things up.”
Aly Reed, one of Coach’s volleyball players, laughs from the back. “And it always leads to trouble.”
“Nonsense! You’re going to like this. Over the few weeks, we’re gonna take a close look at issues most of you will face after graduation. Budgeting for the first time. Career and life planning. Possibly thoughts of marriage and starting a family. I decided to combine three units on money, relational skills, and child development into one topical, real life project. It’ll count for twenty-five percent of the semester grade, and a co-written paper with your teammate will substitute for a final exam.”