“Dummy?” he said, pretending to be offended. “How do you know that I’m not doing better than you in this class!”
“Honestly, you probably are,” I sighed, and looked back down at my book.
“Hey. Everything okay?” he asked, seeming genuinely concerned.
“Fine, just stuff at home,” I shook my head deep in thought, then I looked back at him cautiously because of what I said earlier in the locker hall. I had never overshared like that with anyone before, let alone someone I hardly knew.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“Not really,” I said, still looking at him, and he nodded that he understood as Madame Holly called attention to the front of the room.
“Amy, would you please pass these papers out to everyone in the room?” Mrs. Holly asked, gesturing to me. I smiled at the mix-up and shot Chris an I-told-you-so look as I got to my feet and went to get the papers. He had doubted me when I told him the story about her calling me Amy.
Throughout class, we exchanged glances and smiles, and by the end of class, I felt Amy might be wrong about him. I felt like I could let my guard down a little. Maybe he really was into me.
The bell rang, we zipped our bags, and then walked out of the room in silence but for some reason, he followed me back to my locker. I was relieved that this time the swarm of my teammates weren’t standing across the hall gawking. I tried to ignore him standing right behind me, but when I opened my locker, he rested his hand on top of the door, so I spun around.
“What are you doing?” I said in an irritated tone.
“What does it look like? I’m hanging out with you.”
“But why?”
“Because you have my hoodie,” he said with a sly smile.
“Hilarious. What do you want from me, Chris? I’m focused on scholarships, and I don’t want to be distracted by whatever it is you’re trying to do, okay? I don’t have time for games unless it involves a field hockey stick.”
“Ouch. Have lunch with me today,” he said, as if he hadn’t heard a single thing I had just said.
Confused, I turned back around, knelt to the floor to unzip my bag, and I ignored his hoodie at the top of my bag, which I had to move out of the way to get to my books. So did he. Thank goodness.
“Well?” He said, after I didn’t reply. When I looked at him, he made that sad puppy frown again.
“What will people say?” I asked as I tilted my head at him.
“Hang on, let me ask my Magic 8 Ball,” he said, as he quickly unzipped his backpack and pretended to rummage around in it until he suddenly stopped and looked at me. “Shit.”
“What?” I looked at him, confused.
“I left it in the pocket of my hoodie, can you check?” he asked eagerly with a dorky smile on his face.
I ignored him entirely and said, “No, but really, I just hate feeling like people are talking about me, or like I’m the center of attention, it makes my head spin. Plus, my sister is captain of the rumor mill, and I don’t want to give her a reason to spread rumors,” I replied with a tone of concern. “She’s known for saying one thing and doing another.”
“So how come you’re fine being the center of attention on the field hockey field?”
“I don’t know, I guess I’m fiercely competitive and don’t let anything stand in my way when I know what I want.” He just stood there staring at me, waiting to see if I understood the correlation of what I had just said.
“So then who cares. Have lunch with me,” he said
“Fine,” I said, with hesitation, and his face lit up.
“Okay? Okay! I’ll meet you at the corner of the library at 11:45. See you later, Superstar.” Then he quickly turned and walked out of the locker hall doors. What was happening? Amy’s words were still fresh in my mind, but he seemed sincere, so I tried to push them away.
The rest of my classes crawled by as each teacher assigned mountains of impossible homework. My mom was constantly driving me to the University of Richmond’s Library to meet up with tutors to help me with homework that I hardly understood. The whole drive, I would hear about how academics came so naturally to Amy, and she just didn’t understand why I needed so much help.
When the bell finally rang, my stomach did a somersault. I made my way out of the room to drop off my backpack, which hardly fit in my locker, but I shoved it in and pushed the door shut. As I made my way out of the Upper School building, I could see him already waiting at the corner of the library, and I chewed on the inside of my cheek with nerves. I headed up the hill by the science building and turned to make the long walk towards him, trying to keep my gaze on the ground just a few steps ahead of me, but kept looking up at him at the end of the covered corridor. The Headmaster was in the courtyard outside the cafeteria just past Chris, so I grabbed the bottom of my corduroy skirt on either side and tugged at it a little to shift it lower so it would pass the dress code. The last thing I needed was a comment made about my outfit when I was surely about to get comments about my lunch company.
“I wasn’t sure you’d show,” Chris said, as I got within earshot.
