“Phones aren’t allowed in class,” she says, turning on her heel and walking back toward her desk. “You’ll stay after school and help with cleanup.”
I groan to myself and ignore the stares from my fellow classmates. We’re not even doing anything in class right now! Everyone was supposed to finish their expository essays and then we’re free to do homework until the bell rings. All I was trying to do is save Christmas. And now I have detention.
Mary Hart High School is a teensy tiny school in the Texas hill country. Our whole town has a population of just under four thousand people, so there’s not much tax dollars going to fund the school. Because of that, detention is called Clean Up Duty. After school, you have to report to the cafeteria and help wipe down tables, sweep, mop, that kind of thing.
So although I’d rather be out trying to earn some money, when school is over I slowly make my way down to the cafeteria so I can work and not get paid for it. How annoyingly ironic. To make matters worse, we have to leave our phones at the door and can’t take them into detention, so I have no idea if anyone has replied to my post online yet.
I’m in the process of turning off my phone at the cafeteria doors when I see him. Tall and tan, with dark hair and a dimple in his left cheek that I used to see a lot when he’d smile at me. But Ricky is smiling athernow.
They’re holding hands and walking toward the student parking lot. They don’t see me, luckily, but I still have to see them. Even now, months after the breakup, it still sends a jolt of pain right through my heart when I see my ex-boyfriend with her. He looks so happy. I wonder if he ever looked that happy when we were dating?
I study the girl. Her name is Braylin, but I prefer to think of her as Boyfriend Stealer. She’s pretty, and also tan, and she’s in all AP classes. I still don’t see what makes her so much better than me, though. Is it because she drives a shiny black sports car? I roll my eyes and turn away, wishing the pain in my chest would go away so I can focus on the pain of detention instead.
I drop my phone in the bucket next to Mrs. Powell, the cafeteria lady who is also in charge of Clean Up Duty. She’s wearing a bright red sweater with Christmas lights embroidered on it.
“I don’t see you in detention very often,” she says, eyeing me as she checks my name off on her chart. “What’d you do?”
“I tried to save Christmas,” I say bitterly.
She gives me a weird look, then checks something on her paper. “You can be on table cleaning duty with Connor.”
In the cafeteria, my fellow delinquent students are already getting to work. There’s a few guys mopping the floor, one girl cleaning the windows, which is odd because I can’t picture her ever getting into trouble, and then Connor Devos, who is staring tentatively out at the cafeteria as if he forgot something.
I watch him for a minute before I approach him. He’s a junior like me, with a muscular build from playing softball, and light brown hair that’s shaggy and slightly curly. I know the coach hates his hair being so long because he always yells out, “Cut your hair, Devos!” when he passes him in the hallway. I think it looks good, though. His hair is playful and cute, making him seem more approachable than some of the other jocks who sport buzz cuts and act all intimidating in class.
I know Connor a little bit because we live in a town the size of a Christmas ornament. Because of this, everyone knows everyone, and I’ve had classes with every student in my grade since I was in kindergarten. Connor and I have worked on science labs together, and we’re always on the volunteer group to make the floats for the homecoming parade each year. But we’re not really friends.
“I’ve got table duty with you,” I say, walking up.
He startles a bit, then smiles. “Hey, Jayda. You have detention? What did you do?”
The surprise on his face makes me laugh. I put my hands on my hips. “What? You think I’m not a rule breaker? You think I’m too good to get in trouble?”
He laughs and rocks back on his heels. “Nah, I just never see you. It’s only December and I’ve somehow found myself here like ten times already.”
I fold my arms over my chest. “What didyoudo?”
“Tardies mostly.” He rolls his eyes. “If you’re even half a second late to Mr. Lynn’s class, he gives you a tardy.”
“Lame.”
“So what’d you do?” Connor asks again.
I shrug. “It’s a long story.”
He pretends to look at a watch even though he’s not wearing one. “I have time. We can talk and clean tables.”
My stomach tightens. I’m not telling him that I tried to save Christmas and got in trouble for being on my phone. I’m not going to tell anyone that. It’s too embarrassing and sad and I don’t need pity. I need to just get out of here and go find a paying job. “Let’s just clean, okay?”
“Sure thing,” he says, dropping the subject. He hands me a towel and a spray bottle of cleaner. “You want to take every other table?”
“Sounds good.” I move to the next table and get to cleaning. We work in silence, but I can feel Connor glancing at me every few minutes. At first I think I’m cleaning the tables wrong, or something, but I’m doing the same thing he is. Spray, wipe, move on to the next. Still, he keeps glancing at me.
When we get to the final row of tables, I stop and set my spray bottle down. “Why do you keep looking at me?”
His cheeks flush pink, and his eyes go wide. “I’m sorry.”
“Is there something wrong with me?” I ask, glancing down at my clothes. Even though I know it’s impossible, I worry he knows about my family’s financial situation. I wonder that he somehow found out and he’s going to tell everyone and I’ll be the laughing stock of Mary Hart High School.
