Oliver, who’s been walking several steps ahead of me this whole time, turns around. “So you’re . . . doing another kiss bet?”
We reach the classroom, and he holds the door open for me. I step inside to avoid answering, but when he comes in after me, it’s clear he’s waiting for me to reply.
“Uh,” I say. “Maybe?”
“And if you don’t do it,” he continues, piecing everything together, “you have to quit Newspaper Club.”
“Agh—yes, okay? That’s it.” I turn toward the boxes of pamphlets stacked on Mrs. Huber’s desk. “It sounds stupid when you put it like that.”
“That’s because itisstupid.” Oliver gives me one of his signature judgmental stares from behind his glasses. “Why do you keep making these kiss bets? Just get a boyfriend like every other girl.”
Um, hello? Has he met me? What, does he think that I’m turning down guys left and right? I’m not perfect Rose with great hair and fantastic people skills. I mean, she could hold a conversation with a rock and make it seem cool and interesting.
Heat rushes up my neck and sinks into my cheeks. “I know it’s dumb, okay? It doesn’t matter anymore, anyway. I already lost because I’m up here with you instead of—”
“Okay, hear me out,” Oliver interrupts. “Is it that bad if you lose and have to quit? It might be better that way, right? So you can focus on your grades?” He paws through the boxes, slapping stacks of pamphlets on the desk. “And aren’t you going to start taking your college entrance exams soon, anyway?”
I run a hand though my hair. “Yeah, but that’s beside the point.”
“It’s not beside the point, Sara Lin.” He looks at me now, those green eyes tangling with mine. “There are more important things than having your first kissright this second. You should worry about things like college entrance exams and passing calculus. I mean, you’ve been wasting time focusing on Newspaper Club instead of tutoring, and it’s affecting your grades.”
I cast my gaze to the ground, staring at the cute boots I’d picked out especially for tonight. Proof of what he’s saying. And he’s right. He’sbeenright this whole time, from the very first conversation we had about my priorities.I’ve been so consumed by my crush on Joe that it’s all I’ve been fixated on. I haven’t done a single thing for Newspaper Club tonight. I can’t write an article from nothing.
“But I mean—it’s not the end of the world.” He must sense I’m upset because his voice turns softer. Kinder. “I can always tutor you again even if you lose the bet, unless you really wanna stay in the club and make time for both. I’m sure Patrick would understand and let the whole thing go. It’s not like it’s a legally binding contract or anything.”
“No, you’re right. I should just focus on tutoring,” I say, letting that dejected feeling spread through me. “It’s for the best. I wanted to join newspaper for the wrong reasons at first, anyway. I mostly did it to impress your brother, but he didn’t even notice me. And why would he? I’m a mess and a terrible writer.”
“No—that’s not what I said,” Oliver says, confusion blanketing his face. “You’re not getting the point.”
Suddenly, a voice booms from down the hall. “Here! This one’s the journalism classroom. I’d love to show you—”
Oliver and I look at each other. My heart thuds frantically. Joe? What in the world is he doing here? And—oh no. He must be with someone if he’s talking to them. But who?
It doesn’t matter. I’ve got to disappear, pronto! Because I’m more confused than ever, and I can’t face Joe if I don’t even know what I want at this point. It doesn’t make me a chicken if I need more time, I decide.
“It’s your brother,” I say. “He’s coming. Quick, hide!”
His brows furrow. “Why?”
But before he can protest further, I tug him behind Mrs. Huber’s single pedestal desk and yank him to the floor, forcing him to crouch beneath the surface with me.
The three walls block us from view, like a cramped fortress. Our shoulders bump as we adjust to the tight space. He opens his mouth as if to chastise me, but I slap a hand over it to muffle whatever he’s going to say.
And then two sets of footsteps enter the classroom.
FORTY-ONE
Patrick
“Hey, you! Have you seen Sara Lin?” A sophomore boy shakes his head before wandering off in the opposite direction. “Really? Short, ginger, still looks twelve-years-old?”
From beside me, Tammy lowers her phone from her ear. “She’s not answering her phone.”
“Dang it.” I moan. “Time is running out. Where is she?”
Tammy and I have been frantically searching the festival for Sara, but there’s no sign of her or Oliver, who you think would be easier to spot since he’s much taller than her. Twinkle lights from each booth light our path as we hustle past crowds of students. I try not to jostle my arm as we jog, because the extra movement doesn’t help with the pain.
“Patrick, there you are.”
