Beat the Band (Swim the Fly #2)(44)

Everything inside me trembles with the aftershocks of almost being caught. I feel slightly dizzy.

Once we’re in the kitchen it takes me a few minutes to come down from the anxiety rush. I attempt to focus on our work, all the while trying not to let my shakiness show as I turn the pages in the Health text.

“So,” Helen says. “We should figure out who’s going to talk about what. I was thinking — now that we’re working so well together — we could probably convince Mrs. Turris to let us do your ‘He said, She said’ thing, but do it all in one lesson instead of two. What do you think?”

“Yeah. Good plan.” My internal gauges are starting to level out. Dodged a major duker there. “You think she’ll go for it?”

“If we hand in a rock-solid lesson plan, maybe. It’s worth a shot, right?”

“Hey, you know me. I’m all about having to do less work.”

Helen smiles. “I don’t know how much less work it’ll be. But at least we won’t have to spread it out over two days.”

As we lay out our Health paperwork, my thoughts shift back to the application form in my pocket. I am so ready to be done with this stupid school form it’s ridiculous. It weighs on me like a sumo wrestler. There’s still so much left to find out. I flip through the questions in my head and decide to start with one of the easier ones. “You’re really good at all this stuff,” I say. “You’re so focused. I mean, with cross-country, and your schoolwork. You probably have it all figured out, what you’re going to do after high school, huh?”

Helen shuffles through some of her papers, looking for something. “I don’t know. I kind of have this fantasy of being a pilot.” She laughs self-consciously. “It’s silly, I guess. There’s something about flying, though. I think I must have been a bird in a past life. But I’ll probably go to college first. Get some kind of business degree or something. If I can get the scholarships. How about you?”

Oh, man, I’ve tapped a gold mine here. This conversation could provide a whole slew of answers. I’m not about to throw us off track by talking about me. “I haven’t really decided yet.” I shrug. “Do they have cross-country scholarships?” I ask.

“Sure. They have scholarships for everything.”

“Ah, so, that’s why you run. I was wondering. I mean, it seems like so much work for something nobody even watches.”

“What are you talking about? Cross-country’s thrilling. We have tons of fans. And cheerleaders, too.”

I look at her doubtfully. “Really?”

“No.” She chuckles. “Of course not. It’s totally boring unless you’re doing it. I started running a couple of years ago, when things . . . weren’t going so great at school. It’s like a release. I get in this zone. It’s hard to explain. And besides, I can just do it, right? I don’t need any equipment or to count on anyone else.”

“That’s cool. It keeps you out of trouble. I can see that. Not that you ever get into trouble, right?”

“Actually, I got detention twice last year. For cutting Home Ec.”

“Seriously? I never would have guessed that.”

Helen laughs. Then pauses, regarding me for a second. “It’s funny. You talk more than some girls I know.”

“Do I? Really? Huh. I don’t know. I guess I just . . . find people interesting.” Oh, God, I’m going straight to the fiery pits when I die.

“It’s nice, actually,” Helen says. “Most guys don’t want to take the time to get to know you. It’s more like, ‘Hi, want to go to bed?’”

I laugh. Maybe a bit too hard. “Yeah, most guys are dogs. Only one thing on their minds. Although, don’t get me wrong, I’d be lying if I said that kind of thing doesn’t flit through my brain every now and then. But what’s the point of it all if you don’t get to know the person inside, right?” What the f*ck are you talking about, Coop? Are you high? “I mean, personally, I hope the girl I finally end up with . . . in that way . . . I just hope we’re friends first.”

Hello? You just admitted you’re a virgin to Helen Harriwick!

Oh, my god. I did.

And what is all that other crap? You don’t honestly believe that stuff, do you?

Oh, my god. Do I?

Helen looks at me. She smiles.

“We’re wasting time again,” she says. “If we keep this up we’re going to have to meet after school every day.”

Maybe I’m just hearing things, but it sounds like there’s a quiet hopefulness in her words. Like maybe she would really like that.

I wait for the clenching in my gut. The internal recoiling. But nothing comes.

Okay, seriously, did someone put an alien pod under my bed? Have I been body-snatched?

Because something is not right here.





“HEY, BUD.” DAD SMACKS ME on the back of the head as he walks by the couch. “Turn off the idiot box, we’re going to the hardware store to pick up some supplies for our light show.”

I kill the TV and get to my feet. “Let me grab a sweatshirt.”

This weekend could not have come any sooner for me. I am wiped. Helen and I have met at her house five times in the last seven days — and that’s on top of our two detention afternoons. Supposedly we were meeting so we could put together a kick-ass lesson plan — one Mrs. Turris would be so impressed with that she would let us off the hook of having to do two presentations.