Sara’s not really angry, of course. This is how we operate. I provoke and taunt and tease; she tries to prove me wrong. And I think she will. If Newspaper Club is the outlet that will get her writing in front of people, then I hope she considers trying.
FOURTEEN
Sara
Stupid Patrick. How dare he call me a chicken?
Well, Ididbackslide into a lie. I love writing. Patrick knows this. There’s a good chance I’d love writing for the school newspaper—except when I said it wasn’t my kind of thing.
This is so typical of me. I’ll work myself up until I have enough courage, and then completely wuss out. My tutoring session with Subwayboy yesterday is a prime example.
I’m afraid of what people will think, and it’s my fear that holds me back. How do people walk around with so much confidence? It’s baffling. Everyone’s probably clued in on some big secret to living effortlessly. Meanwhile, I’m over here trying not to make a fool of myself.
But I’m never going to romanticize my life if I don’t summon enough courage totry.
“Yeah, Joe! You can sign up right here.”
Up ahead, Rose and Joe are gathered near the student bulletin board. I slow my pace, pretending to fix my shoulder strap when, really, I’m eavesdropping.
Joe takes the pen from her hand then scribbles his information on the sign-up sheet. “You sure I don’t need to apply first?”
“No, no. It’s fine!” Rose tosses her gleaming hair and leans closer to him. “You can even be in charge of applications.”
“Uh, you really think that’s okay?”
“Of course.” She releases this tinkling laugh. Even I can tell it’s over-the-top. “You’re so silly.”
Joe returns her pen, then says something I can’t make out because now their backs are to me. They’re already walking away.
Once they’re gone, I approach the bulletin board. Since the school year just started, sign-up sheets clutter every square inch of free space. My eyes roam over the options.movie club!cheer tryouts! anime club!And then—there it is—newspaper club!
Joe’s name is written in neat capital letters. His phone number is on the line next to it. I press my lips together. I guess I really am a chicken, because I wouldn’t dare cross Rose’s path. It’s clear she’s interested in him—giggling and giving him preferential treatment. If this was a movie, she’d play the pretty, popular blond who gets the attractive new guy. There’s no way I can compete with her, so why bother?
I check the time on my phone. Tutoring starts in ten minutes, which means I have time to pop into the bathroom and collect myself before dealing with the Subwayboyproblem.
It’s quiet in here. Good. I need to think. Except I wind up fiddling with my hair, trying mimic Rose as I toss my short bob. It doesn’t work. My hair sort of flies upward before landing out of place. No wonder I’m practically invisible.
Maybe I can channel her confidence if I practice.
I pull out my phone and pretend to dial Joe’s number. “Oh, why hello there. Is this Joseph?” I attempt to flutter my lashes but instead of givingcute, it looks like I’m malfunctioning. So I stop. “It’s me, Sara Lin.Yeah. I’m calling to let you know I’m joining Newspaper Club. I heard you’re doing auditions? Wait—it’s not auditions. What is it?”
“Psst.”
My heart attempts to jailbreak from my chest. “Agh! Who’s there?”
Lulu glides out of the last stall. I didn’t even know she was in here.
“Oh god, Lulu. You scared me.”
“I sense your distress, Sara. It’s about a boy.” Lulu slithers toward me. “Do you want me to read your fortune? I can help you get your man.”
I consider this. Lulu’s been into astrology for as long as I’ve known her. She’s a Leo—she’s told me a gazillion times—and knows all about moon phases and retrograde and, most recently, tarot. Sometimes I’ll look over at her table at lunch and find her shuffling her deck and reading someone’s cards.
It can’t hurt, can it? It’s not like I’m killing it on my own. May as well see what my fortune has in store. And at this point, I need all the help I can get.
She must sense I’m about to give in because she grabs my hand and tugs me toward the last stall. There’s a sign on the door that saysout of order, but this doesn’t stop her.
Once we’re inside, I realize she’s transformed the space. She’s thrown a blanket over a stack of books to make a table, and two velvet floor cushions sit on either side. Twinkling string lights drape over the stall’s wall, creating a moody atmosphere.
