“Staying connected.” As I give it a jiggle, the falsehood of my words fills my mouth with a sour taste.
Her shoulders lower on an annoyed exhale.
“Since when do you care whether I’m on my phone or not? It’s the primary way we’ve stayed in touch over the last few years. As I said, it’s a way to stay connected.”
“But I’m right here and, according to chapter three, section b of theGuide to Blancbourg Academy d’Etiquette,it’s impolite to put your phone on the table and even ruder to be on the thing during dinner.”
“My apologies, my lady,” I say, thickening my accent as if I’m a gallant knight.
Maggie would ordinarily crack a smile at my joking. I expect her to break character, but her expression tightens and she stares at me like I’m testing her patience.
Even though she’s scolding me, a crackling inside suggests that I want to hear more of her voice. To chat and carry on like we used to. I have to trust that we will when my thirty days in reform school are up. But for now, I remember that this job means something to her.
Not only that, but maybe she’s changed...or something between us has changed.
A deep desire to make her smile and laugh fills my inner dashboard. That’s nothing new. But the lights and dials go wild. Fear of losing her makes me put on the brakes.
I lean in and whisper, “When you’re not working, can we be friends?”
“Of course. But when I’m on the clock or in this building, I’m the teacher. You’re the student. If we can do that, we’ll get through this.”
But a third option speeds into my mind. It comes with that crackling sensation. The coach’s rules flash like invisible sirens.
Yeah, yeah, yeah. For now, I’ll play my part. But the boundaries of what that is blur because it’s not against the rules to be best friends, and the definition of that term is broad.
But I make a last-minute change in play and will be a stickler tonight, so no one suspects a thing...and so I don’t reach across the table and plant my lips someplace I might regret.
13
DECLAN
With a caveman-like grunt, I say, “I can’t help that people are trying to get in touch with me.”
I lean back in my chair and hammock my hands behind my head, assuming the position out of habit and in line with my bad-boy persona. I play the part of Declan the Showman so I can keep Maggie at a distance, so I don’t break the rules set forth by the coach, and so she doesn’t lose her job.
The headmistress will expect her to have a difficult student on the first day, especially after my grand entrance.
“You’re a popular guy, but the messages and calls will still be there when we’re done.” She picks up my device and sets it on a table by the door.
“No fair.” I get to my feet. “If my phone gets put in time out, yours has to go over there too.”
Am I joking? Mostly.
Flirting? Nah, not with my best friend or my etiquette coach.
I swallow thickly because rarely do I lie to myself.
“The rules are rules. You have an easy enough time following them on the football field?—”
“Off the turf, all bets are off. You know that, Maggie Moo.”
“Miss Byrne,” she corrects.
“This place is practically a castle. How about Princess Maggella and I’m Declan, Prince Charming to the Boston Bruiser’s pack of rough hooligan football players.” I take her hand and kiss the top of it.
The crackling inside gets louder when my lips touch her soft skin. I sense a slight tremble underneath. Either that or she’s afraid the intense headmistress is going to burst in on us.
Her face crumbles for a split second, tints pink, and then her eyes widen with what I want to call horror. “Mr. Printz. I have a job to do. You can’t kiss me, er, my hand. But to be clear, I haven’t been on my phone. I’m doing my job.” She snatches her hand away and lifts her chin as though daring me to disagree.
