The senior spots are the closest to campus and were painted over the summer by each student, transforming the asphalt into a kaleidoscope of colors. Different designs poke out from underneath a variety of vehicles ranging from high-end SUVs to sports cars, all practically new. While there are a few older vehicles in the mix, nothing quite compares to the station wagon with peeling wood panels that’s parked just three spots down from my King Ranch.
Ella is already inside with the windows rolled down when I get to my truck. Her eyes are closed tightly as she turns the key in the ignition. It takes multiple attempts before her engine roars to life. When it finally does, shevisibly relaxes until her eyes find mine and narrow. There’s murder in them. She shoots me a not-so-kind hand gesture before backing out and speeding off, narrowly missing a collision with another car backing out of its spot.
The space she vacates is one of only two in the senior section that was left unpainted this summer. The other one? It’s mine. I try not to think about that as I hoist myself into the driver’s seat and drive off.
I’m workingon my CommonApp when there’s a knock at my bedroom door. I continue filling in some of the blanks about our family’s demographics but yell, “Come in,” over my shoulder.
It’s David. While most of us inherited our parents’ dark hair, the youngest of the Williams siblings ended up with the recessive gene from our great aunt and has auburn locks. It’s not just his looks that make him different, though. He’s more sensitive, less competitive.
“What’s up?” I ask, swiveling in my desk chair to face him.
He sits on the corner of my bed and rubs the back of his neck. “I heard you talked to Dr. Freck after the assembly.”
I had hoped that little tidbit of information wouldn’t get out. While I’m perfectly content to excel academically, and it is no secret I want to win Citrus Scholar, I don’twant to be thrown in the same camp as Ella. “Where did you hear that?”
He shrugs. “Just around. Is it true?”
I sigh and lean back in my chair. “Yeah. I talked to him.”
David leans forward, putting his elbows on his knees. “And?”
This is the most interested I’ve ever seen him in Citrus Scholar. It’s obvious why. He’s looking for a way to break free from the constraints our parents have put on him. He has a car but isn’t allowed to drive it except to school and tutoring. He can’t participate in any clubs or sports. I wish I could tell him that everything is going to be okay, but I still don’t know enough. I pick up a pencil off my desk and start twirling it in my fingers. “And I know about the same amount as I did after the assembly.”
“But it’s true?” He grabs the pencil from my hands, forcing me to look at him. “They aren’t basing it off of grades anymore?”
I snatch it back and put it on my desk. David was there. He heard the same announcement as everyone else, but I tell him the little more that I know. “Grades still count. They just aren’t the only thing that matters. There’s a team of teachers that chooses the winner.”
His eyes widen in excitement. I know why. He thinks he can influence their decision just like I did.
“I don’t know which teachers. No one does. It’s a secret.” The light leaves his features, and I hate the feeling that forms in my gut. I hurry to reassure him. “Don’tworry, I’ll do my best to figure out who they are in time for your senior year. Just keep working hard in the meantime.”
“This could be a really good thing. Maybe I could join theater again.” His eyes glaze over, and I know he’s already trying to figure out if it’s too late to audition this year. They’re doingBeauty and the Beastthis year, and he wanted to play the candlestick thing.
“I’m sure once we tell Dad that Citrus Scholar is looking at other activities, he’ll make you rejoin.” I smile confidently at him, though I’m not sure how that conversation will go.
Telling our parents that the rules have changed will bring attention to me that I’ve been working hard to keep away. I have to win now. If not, things might end up being even worse for David in the long-run. They might tolerate one child not meeting their expectations, but if I don't get this award, that puts a new pressure on David. It would kill me to know I was responsible for it. Seeing the hope in his eyes for the first time in a while makes me realize what I already knew: I don’t have a choice but to beat Ella Adams.
5
MOST DESPERATE
It’s beena couple of weeks since Dr. Freck’s announcement, and little has changed. I’ve been busy trying to make sure I’m staying on top of my assignments until I figure out what exactly I’m supposed to do to be a well-rounded student.
Generally speaking, I know what it means. In addition to having good grades, I should be athletic and artistic. Unfortunately, I’m neither of those things. In no universe will I be making any of our school’s championship sports teams, and it’s a little late for me to start reading sheet music now.
“Have you considered joining cross country?” Lily asks as we walk to Calculus.
She’s been helping me brainstorm which is both wonderful and overwhelming at the same time. I think she’s going through the yearbook at this point and suggesting anything that exists. She’sattempted to get me to join chess club, creative writing club, even conspiracy club. None have felt right. They’re all fine, but none of them scream ‘I’m the best Citrus Prep has to offer.’
Cross country feels like a new low, even compared to the students who think Bigfoot is real and Antarctica has a secret ice wall guarding all the government's secrets.
“Are you seriously asking if I’ve considered running? For fun?” I snort.
“Why not?”
“Let’s see.” I tap my chin with my finger. “Maybe because the most running I’ve done lately is when I ran to Dr. Freck’s on the first day of school. And that was more of a speed walk.”
“I don’t think you have to be any good.” She opens the door that leads to the stairwell and we walk inside. “It sounds like they lost a lot of their top runners last year when half the team graduated. Coach Trish is practically begging people to join.”
