Ella's Twisted Senior Year(27)

I make my way through the locker room, stopping when my phone goes off. Frustration makes me want to hurl my phone straight into the cinderblock walls. Kennedy is calling.

I don’t know why she thinks I’ll answer her call when I’ve spent the last five days ignoring every single text and call she’s sent my way. That doesn’t stop her from joining us at the lunch table and trying to find me in the hallways between classes. I take a different route nearly every day just to throw her off my scent. But now it’s the end of seventh period and there’s no getting away from her. Which is why I press my back against the lockers and wait it out a bit. Ella is cool with this strategy.

We both want to avoid a Kennedy conflict, so we just hang out in our last period until five minutes after the bell, then slip off to the parking lot. Kennedy is already gone by then, or she’s staying after for cheer. Whatever the case, it’s worked like a charm for five whole days.

But in a world without magic, I guess the charm is bound to wear off at some point. Kennedy steps right in front of me the moment I walk out of the locker room. She’s in her cheerleader uniform, looking all peppy from the mini pompoms on her shoes to the giant bow in her ponytail. The only thing not emanating school spirit is the scowl on her face.

“You can’t just ignore me, Ethan.”

“Really? Because I thought I was doing a pretty good job.”

She puts her hands on her hips and her perfect posture plus uniform makes her look in desperate need of a pair of pompoms. “Why are you being so mean to me?”

I flinch. Mean isn’t exactly what I’m going for here, but after learning Kennedy’s true nature, I just don’t want to be friends. Is that so bad? “I’m sorry you think I’m being mean, but I’m trying to keep my distance. We’re not dating anymore so I don’t see why we need to text and talk all the time.”

“Because we’re royalty in this school,” she says. I don’t even know what to say to that.

Coach Tamara saves me from the ex-girlfriend interrogation by calling Kennedy’s name. “Practice began five minutes ago,” she says, pointing to her bare wrist as if there was a watch there.

“One second,” Kennedy tells her before turning to me. “I’m not going to lose you as a prom date,” she says, poking me in the chest. “You won’t humiliate me on the biggest day of my life.”

My tongue runs across my teeth and for all the bravado I had a second ago, I can’t find a way to tell her that’s not happening. So I just start walking toward the art room, which is luckily on the opposite end of the hallway from where Kennedy is going.

She calls my name and I look back although I’d prefer to just keep walking. Of course, that would be mean. “Yeah?”

“I know you’re giving the homeless girl rides to school because she’s poor, but you should really pawn her off soon. Your reputation will suffer.”

“Thanks for the unsolicited advice,” I call out over my shoulder. “Please lose my number.”

“We’re not done,” she says, but I walk faster and don’t catch whatever she yells after that.

Ms. Cleary is deep in conversation with Ella when I walk in the art room. They’re standing over a watercolor painting that looks like a super yellow sunset.

“Ethan, hello,” Ms. Cleary says. She gestures toward the wall where some of my canvases from last year are displayed. “Did you bring me some more art?”

I shake my head. “No, I’m here to get Ella.”

Her eyes widen for a fraction of a second. Even teachers aren’t immune to school gossip but she must be behind on the whole Kennedy and me break up thing.

I hitch my backpack up my shoulders. “Ella lives with me.”

This time her eyes widen so big she can’t hide it. Ella rolls her eyes and slugs me in the arm. “Don’t listen to him. He’s my neighbor and since our house became so much firewood, my family is staying with his family.”

“Ah, well that makes sense,” Ms. Cleary says. “I’m glad you were able to get that worked out and I am so, so sorry for your loss, dear.”

Ella picks up her painting. “It’s okay.”

Ms. Cleary turns her question on me while Ella takes the painting over to a long shelf for drying artwork. “So how’s the T-shirt business?”

My phone vibrates in my pocket and I pull it out an inch to see the name on the screen. Kennedy. I drop the phone back in my pocket. “It’s going pretty well,” I say. “I made a few new designs this week that I’ll upload tonight.”

“I’d say it’s going a lot better than pretty well,” Ms. Cleary says, waving her hands around. “At least half of my class is wearing one of your designs every single day. You’ll be paying for college in no time.”

I nod. From the other side of the room, Ella’s eyebrow is raised. I shift on my feet, knowing she’s listening to everything I say and for some reason I want her to keep looking so impressed. “Yeah, I’m pretty much there,” I say, straightening my shoulders. “I’ve got state college paid for, at least. I’m not making Harvard money, but it’s not like I’ll be applying there anyway.”

Ms. Cleary laughs. “Harvard is overrated. State college is all you really need these days.”