Be the Girl(10)

“Oh. Him. He’s …” Emmett’s eyes flash to the rearview mirror. “I’ll warn you about him later,” he says softly.

Because Cassie will repeat whatever she hears, I’m guessing.

“Okay.” The thought of a secret conversation between us sends a thrill through my body. “And Ms. McNair for Social Studies.”

He frowns. “Which period?”

“First.”

“Hey, I’m in that class!”

“Really?” I get to spend my morning period with Emmett? Stealing glances at every opportunity?

I am so going to fail this class.

“Wait, what grade are you in again?”

“She’s in grade eleven!” Cassie yells from behind, as if excited to be able to join the conversation.

“Eleven,” I echo. “But I took a course that’s identical to a prerequisite for this one, so…” I wave a hand, as if the rest is self-explanatory.

“Cool. I can walk with you. You’re on your own after that.”

A mixture of relief and trepidation swirls inside. “That’s okay.” I hold up a second sheet of paper. “I have a map.”





Daunting.

That’s a great word for Eastmonte Secondary.

I knew this last week, when Mom and I came by to finish registering and get acquainted. The principal, squinty-eyed Mr. Keen, announced that I would put their enrollment at sixteen hundred and sixty-six students. “Don’t worry, that doesn’t mean you’re bad luck,” he joked as he guided us out of his office.

Now that I’m standing in the parking lot watching the old building come alive with students—filtering through doors, lingering in groups, their eyes wandering, their laughter and shouts carrying—that number weighs heavily on me. It’s more than double my previous high school.

“I’m nervous,” Cassie announces, adjusting her backpack on her shoulders.

“You don’t need to be nervous.” Emmett reaches into the back seat to grab his backpack, the move stretching his white T-shirt across his curvy, hard chest. “You went here last year, remember? And you have the same teacher. You’re in the same class, with most of the same kids. You’ll be fine.”

“Yeah.” Cassie giggles. “I know.”

We begin the slow walk toward the front doors, and I’m so thankful to have both Hartford kids right now. Otherwise, I’d be doing this alone.

“But imagine how nervous Aria must be,” Emmett says, grinning playfully at me. “She doesn’t know anyone here.”

“She knows me,” she says, not catching on to her brother’s gentle ribbing.

“You’re right. She does. And don’t worry.” He winks at me. “With Cassie around, you’ll know half the school in no time.”





“Hi, Mr. T!” Cassie waves at a tall, thin man with a hard face who hovers outside the gymnasium’s double doors.

“Cassie Hartford!” His face lights up. “How was your summer?”

“Good. This is Aria.” She jabs a finger toward me. “She lives with Uncle Merv now. She’s my new neighbor.”

Mr. T nods once to me. “Welcome to Eastmonte, Aria.”

“Thanks.” I smile politely, feeling my cheeks flush, as we keep moving.

“What’s that now? Eight teachers?” Emmett asks, high-fiving a guy as he passes him in the hall.

“Nine. And two janitors,” I correct, tugging at the collar of my suddenly uncomfortable shirt.

He chuckles. “See? They’ll all know you soon enough. ’Kay, Cass, here’s your classroom.”

“And my locker.” She opens the door of 971.

“That’s last year’s.”

“No! This is mine this year, too!” she insists, unexpected frustration flaring in her voice as she pulls out a lock and loops it through the latch with a concerted effort.

He sighs heavily, and then leans into the room to wave at someone. “Hey, Mr. Eason, Cassie’s here.”

A middle-aged man with no hair on his head and too much on his face strolls out to meet us. “Hey, Emmett. Cassie! Good to see you again,” he greets, his voice deep.

“Which locker is hers this year?” Emmett asks.

“Same one. Keeping it consistent.”

“See? I told you, Emmett.” She focuses on unpacking her backpack, that same petulance she used with her mother the other day creeping into her tone.

Emmett holds his hands up in surrender. “I should’ve known better. We’ll see you later, Cassie. Remember, you’re walking home with Aria after school. She’ll meet you here.”

“Oh, Mr. Eason! Have you met Aria?” Cassie asks, distracted from her locker for the moment.

“I haven’t. But you told me about her last week when you came in to visit the classroom, remember?”

“Yeah. This is Aria.” She points to me and says by rote, “She lives with Uncle Merv. She’s my new neighbor.”

Kind, green eyes shift to me. “Welcome, Aria. You have lucked out with the friendliest neighbor you’ll ever meet in your life.”

I laugh. “Yeah, I’ve picked up on that.”