“I can’t believe I have a boyfriend,” I tell Rae.
We’re both sprawled on the bleachers, absorbing the fiery October sun. On the field below, the coach is having the track team run these thirty-second, full-speed drills that look so brutal I wince every time the whistle shrills.
“And not just anyone.Mona’sson,” she says.
I sit up. “Ugh.Don’t remind me.”
“Hon, I know you don’t want to hear this, but maybe youshouldreconsider the contest. It might change things between you and Ten.”
Blood pounds against my temples. “He told me he’s not mad about it.”
“Because you haven’t entered yet. It’s not real. But once you do, it’ll get real.”
Borrowed time…
I don’t want to think about it, so I blurt out, “I got another C in math. I think Mrs. Dabbs hates me.”
“Well, you are dating her crush.”
“What?” I wrinkle my nose. “Ew.”
“Remember at the beginning of the year, when she told me I shouldget Ten to help me out with my calc homework, she kept on gushin’ and gushin’ about how good he is, and how mature and blah blah blah.”
“That’s just gross.”
Rae smirks. “Not that she ever had a chance. Since that boy stepped into Reedwood, he’s been totally infatuated with you, God knows why.”
I flick her arm, and she laughs.
After Rae heads back into school, I wait a couple extra minutes for the track coach’s briefing to end. The moment it’s over, Ten jogs up to me, sweat glistening on his brow and gluing his gym shirt to his chest. How he still has energy to run is beyond me. I’d be pancaked on the lawn.
He kisses me, and I wrinkle my nose. “Sweaty man.”
That just makes him step closer. He even wraps his arms around me.
“Ew,” I say, between bursts of laughter. I try to push him off, but he holds on tighter. “You’re lucky I like you, sweat and all.”
“I count my blessings each and every second of the day.”
I roll my eyes and swat his arm.
AFTER SCHOOL, I stop by the middle school. I haven’t seen Nev since Sunday. Ten told me she was still angry with him, but her lack of response to my text messages tells me she’s also angry with me.
I roll my bike up to the middle school parking lot and look for her pink backpack in the ocean of backpacks. It takes me a while to locate her, because, unlike in the cafeteria, she isn’t alone. She’s surrounded by classmates.
Going out to the movies with Charlie has had quite the impact on her social status. Although I’m glad for her, I also worry because I recognize some of the girls she’s chatting with—the pests who bullied her.
I hook up my bike, then traipse over to her. “Nev?”
Slowly she turns toward me. Her gray eyes darken, become the color of thunderclouds. “What do you want, Angie?” Her tone is short. I wasn’t hallucinating her anger. She really is mad at me.
“What I want is to talk.”
“Are you going to try to convince me she’s evil too?”
Her little posse has gotten all quiet.
“No.”
