I pull my arm back from Lily and step behind her so we can squeeze through a particularly dense group of students blocking the hall. Lily’s ponytail sways with her every step, acting as a beacon as we push our way past the human walls.
Once we maneuver to the other side, she bumps her shoulder against mine. “So, how is the GPA looking? Still the highest in the grade?”
“Maybe.”
“And I’m assuming that you think it will stay there?”
“Yep.” If I manage to get a 94 or higher in all my classes this year, there’s no way I won’t get valedictorian—even if the person who is right behind me gets straight 100s in all of theirs. My lead is too great at this point.
“So, it’s in the bag?”
I nod.
“You finally beat Connor.”
My lips curve up in a smile. I did…well, I will. But it’s more than beating him. I turn to her as we continue down the hall. “It’s about Citrus Scholar,” I argue for my sake as much as hers.
“But also about beating Connor.”
“And getting away from my psychotic family.”
“And finally beating Connor Williams,” she says, her voice taking on a sing-song quality.
A beat passes before I squeeze my hands at my sides and squeal. “Yes, and finally beating Connor-freaking-Williams.”
Connor and I have been competing against one another since before we were born. At least that’s what our mothers used to say—back when they still talked. Both due on the same day, Connor graced the world with his presence three days early, giving him a head start I’ll never get back. Everything has been a competition since.
I spoke my first words while he was still babbling. He started walking while I was crawling. Report cards, standardized testing, the amount of service hours we’ve earned—they've all been tallies in our respective columns as we got closer to the most important competition of all.
Citrus Scholar.
And I’ve won.
An image of Connor standing in the second-place spot of a podium with his arms crossed and a giant pout popsinto my head which makes me laugh. It must be contagious because Lily joins in without even knowing the childish direction of my thoughts. We giggle as we push against the double doors that lead outside.
The August humidity pushes against my skin and into my lungs as soon as we step outside. It takes precisely point-eight seconds for me to start sweating and I pray my deodorant works as hard as I do.
Lily and I step down from the brick steps of the Bates building and cut across an expansive space of green toward the auditorium. The large grassy field known as The Yard is directly in the center of campus. The imposing brick buildings of Citrus Preparatory surround the green space like a mini Central Park. Instead of large, stone fountains and horse-drawn carriages, we have Spikeball and soccer balls. Even in the short time we have to make it to the auditorium, some upperclassmen boys have paused their walk to throw a football back and forth.
Lily and I give them a wide berth so we don’t get knocked over by the impromptu game. Soon, that all too familiar movement and the backdrop of brick buildings I’ve grown accustomed to will become distant memories. As excited as I am to graduate, there’s an unexpected pang of sorrow with it. After this year, everything will be different.
“I didn’t think this day would actually come.” I don’t have to tell Lily what I mean. She already knows.
“Soon, we’ll be at different schools with different lives.”
“At least there’s an entire school year ahead of us. Wecan have after school coffee dates and weekend slumber parties and?—”
A male head with a mop of messy blond hair materializes between us, cutting me off. Hardy, the third in our little trio, slings his arms around both of our shoulders. “Did someone say slumber party?” He flashes a wide grin at us. “Thanks so much for asking. I’d love to come.” He pauses and waggles his brows. “Will there be pillow fights?”
Lily wiggles out from underneath him. “Don’t be gross.”
Hardy takes his arm from my shoulder and puts it to his chest. “I only want to spend some quality time with some of Citrus Prep’s most outstanding students before we graduate. How is that gross?”
Even though her voice is firm, I don’t miss the slight pink tint to Lily’s cheeks. “You’re saying your question about pillow fights was totally harmless?”
“Isn’t that a normal part of a sleepover? I’m not sure what—” He cuts himself off as he feigns some deeper understanding. His voice becomes a scandalized whisper. “Wait. Did you think something else might happen? Lily, I’m appalled at the direction of your thoughts.”
“I’m sure you are.” She rolls her eyes before grabbing my arm and pulling me toward the auditorium. Her steps are hurried as we make our getaway.
