Be the Girl(81)

“See you tomorrow?”

“Yeah. Call me later if you want.” I can’t believe it’s taken us this long to exchange numbers.

Seconds later, a heavy arm lands on my shoulder. “Need a ride home?”

I spin to find Emmett smiling down at me. My spirits are instantly lifted. “Don’t you have, like, puck practice tonight?”

“Look at you. Learning the lingo.” He pinches my cheek playfully.

I swat his hand away but laugh.

“It’s canceled tonight. Come on. Let’s get Cass. I promised I’d take her to get ice cream.”

I shut my locker and we head down the hall, his arm hooked over my shoulders. Several guys call his name or bump his shoulder as they pass by. I don’t think there is anyone in this school who doesn’t like Emmett. Besides Holly and Adam, that is.

“How was the rest of your day?”

“It was … better. Thanks, for what you did at lunch.” By the time I ducked into the bathroom to check my phone, the SWF account had vanished, like it had never existed. I wish I could erase it from my memory just as easily.

His jaw tenses. “How long have you known about the account?”

“A few days.”

“Next time, tell me right away.” He gives a delayed chin-up greeting to someone. “You shouldn’t deal with that alone.”

“Whatever. It’s over. She’ll get bored and move on.”

A vacant look passes through his eyes. “I can’t believe I ever dated her. It makes me sick, thinking about it.”

Ms. Moretti is striding down the hall toward us at a brisk clip, her heels clicking against the tile, her eyes narrowing on us. I brace myself, waiting for her to remind Emmett of the PDA policy, but she merely gives me a thumbs-up. “Training hard this weekend?”

“Always.”

“I’ll make sure to chase her around Miller’s Park for ya,” Emmett offers with a grin.

“I’ll bet you will. And you know where to find me when you’re ready to talk, Aria.” She winks and keeps going.

“What’s that about? Ready to talk about what?”

“Nothing.” I wave it off. “Cross-country stuff.”

“You ever get the feeling that Moretti has her tiny little finger on everything going on in the school?”

“I’m beginning to.” I haven’t decided yet if that’s a good or a bad thing.

Cassie is ready to go, standing by her locker, her backpack sitting over her shoulders. Her curious eyes search passing faces to find the familiar ones so she can call out their names and wave. Some wave back at her, some smile and offer their goodbyes.

Some keep their heads down, though I doubt they missed her voice.

And with each one of those people, I see that bright light dim in Cassie’s eyes for a second as she watches them pass, ignoring her. I feel an unexpected urge to slap those people across the head.

Is it really too much to acknowledge her? Just give her a nod?

We’re maybe ten feet away when a cluster of three guys—young, I’m guessing ninth graders—stroll past, catching her residual smile. The brown-haired one on the left waves at her, earning her curious frown.

“I don’t know you,” she says out loud.

“Then why are you waving and smiling at me like that?” he throws back, his tone full of scorn. He follows it up with a rendition of her, only he adds a goofy laugh that is clearly meant to mock.

Her smile slips. Not entirely, but enough to make me think she’s picked up on the teasing.

Emmett’s arm disappears from my shoulder and he charges forward, grabbing hold of the guy’s shoulder and yanking him around.

“You have a problem with someone waving at you?” Emmett’s voice is low and even, and yet it sets the hair on the back of my neck on edge.

The guy’s amusement vanishes as he peers up at Emmett’s towering form. “Uh … no, man,” he stammers. “No.”

“Because that’s my sister back there.”

The boy’s eyes flash to us, fear in them growing by the second. Has he heard what Emmett did to Adam Levic’s face? “I didn’t know.”

“It doesn’t matter if you knew. Don’t be a dickhead to anyone who doesn’t deserve it.” He gives the guy a small shove, just hard enough to make the guy stumble a few steps before he takes off briskly down the hall.

Cassie giggles, but then scowls, as if catching herself. “Why did you push him, Emmett?”

“Because he’s a—” Emmett cuts off abruptly, shaking his head. “It doesn’t matter. You ready to go?” He begins walking toward the doors.

Her eyes trail after the guy. “That boy was being mean to me,” she says after a beat, as if she needed to roll the last few moments over in her mind to decide that.

“Yeah, he was.” I smile softly.

“Yeah … sometimes kids are mean to me.” She says it in an offhand way, but I notice the way her shoulders droop. “Is it because I have autism?”

An ache forms in my throat at the fact that she’s made that connection, that she’s not wrong. “It’s because they don’t know how awesome you are.”

“Yeah.” She frowns, her doubt lingering. “I don’t think anyone’s going to ask me to prom.”