Be the Girl(38)

I stretch out my hamstrings. “Quiet. What about yours?”

“Oh, it was just the best weekend of my entire existence. No big deal.”

I can’t help but chuckle. Richard’s intensity goes beyond his efforts with cross-country. There’s a lot of “extra” with everything he says and does. It’s earned him some uncomplimentary looks along the hallways but, much like Jen with her odd clothing choices, either he doesn’t notice or doesn’t care.

I think I respect him for it.

“I’m almost afraid to ask.”

“Me and the guys clocked in an epic twenty-two hours straight of Dungeons and Dragons. We were delirious.”

I frown. “Dungeons and Dragons? What’s that?”

He pauses, his mouth agape. “‘What’s that?’ she asks. It’s only the greatest role-playing game known to mankind.”

“Hey, Aria, can I talk to you for a sec?” Holly’s voice is especially sweet as she cuts into my conversation with Richard.

I stifle my groan. So much for avoiding her. As much as I want to call her out for the crap she said about me, it won’t help matters. It sure as hell won’t help team dynamics. Still, I struggle to keep my own voice light. “What’s up?”

“Katie said your time is really improving.”

Something tells me Holly doesn’t care about my time. “I’ve been training hard.”

“With Emmett?” she asks innocently.

Now I see where this conversation is headed. “Sometimes.” Always. I reach toward the ground, mainly to avoid eye contact.

“How’s he doing?”

She obviously thinks I don’t know about the recording, about how she belittled me. It also means she doesn’t suspect me as being the culprit in the bathroom stall.

I choose my words knowing they’ll strike hard. “He seems fine. Happy.”

Her face pinches, as if she was hoping for a different answer. The front doors slam and we turn to see Ms. Moretti marching toward us. “Hey, so for social studies today, swap seats with me, okay? I really need to talk to him.”

“You want to talk to him during class about why you broke up?”

“Well, that way he can’t walk away when I try to apologize. Again, for like the thousandth time.” She rolls her eyes, as if annoyed. “Let him sit down first, and then, when morning announcements come on, you can get up and—”

“No. I don’t think so.”

Holly’s eyes flash with anger.

“He’ll talk to you when he’s ready, which I’m guessing is going to be long time from now. You really hurt him. And his family,” I throw in for good measure, Heather’s watery eyes flashing through my mind.

Thankfully, I’m saved from whatever response she might have when a sharp blow of Ms. Moretti’s whistle cuts through the air. “Okay, you’ve had time to warm up. Let’s go, ladies and gentleman!” She claps her hands.

I take off down the path, trying to put as much distance as possible between myself and Holly.

My thighs are throbbing by the time I reach the end.





“Term project time!” Ms. McNair announces, brushing at a streak of white chalk dust on her navy suit jacket. “As discussed at the beginning of the year, a sizable chunk of your overall grade will be based on your class project. To make it easy, you’ll be partnered with your tablemate.”

I steal a glance Emmett’s way and my stomach flutters with excitement.

“You’ll be required to present on a social issue and how it affects teenagers in society today. Expectations for this assignment are posted on the class portal. I have the topics here.” She holds up a stack of quote cards and then walks around, setting one on each table. “I like for my students to be passionate about what they’re learning and presenting so, for today only, you can swap with another group.”

A curly-haired guy named Sidney holds up his card with the word “abortion” displayed in bold black block letters. “Hot topic for anyone daring enough, right here! Anyone … anyone …”

“Many of these topics are big and contentious,” McNair continues, ignoring him. “You are to approach this from an unbiased angle. Work on this project is to be done mainly outside of regular class time, with thirty minutes given each Friday for prep and discussion. Presentations will happen the week of November 18 to 24.”

I catch a waft of her floral scent as she passes by our desk, setting down an index card with one word scrawled across it in bold, black ink:

BULLYING.

A sinking feeling hits the pit of my stomach.

McNair taps her fingertip over it. “Timely, for you two, given that happens to be Bullying Awareness and Prevention Week.” Louder, she continues. “Please fill out your names on the bottom of the card and drop it off on my desk on your way out.”

Emmett slides the card between us and reaches for a pen.

“Did you want to try to swap that?” I ask.

“No, this is a good one.” He pauses. “Unless you don’t want it?”

I force a smile. “I’m fine with it.” Can he tell I’m lying?

“Great.” He grins, and my attention is pulled to those adorable dimples. “How easy is this going to be to work on, living next door to each other?”