“Nah, I’m good.”
“Look at Mr. President slumming it with the regular students.”
I shrug my shoulders. “What can I say, I’m a man of the people.”
We push past others who are sitting on the outside of the row. I flash them a smile as I squeeze by, and everyone quickly moves their feet and bags as I side-shuffle through the aisle.
Hardy trails behind me “Glad to see the position hasn’t gone to your head,”
I look over my shoulder at him. “Can’t let it get too big for my helmet if we plan to make it to state this year.”
Hardy laughs loudly as we find two empty seats and sit down. “We’ve got to win this year. The girls’ soccer team is becoming insufferable.”
“For real.” I set my backpack at my feet. “The clanking in the halls is deafening.”
Every time they win the state championship, the girls’ soccer team comes to school with all of their medals around their necks. They’ve won the last three years, and the sound of the awards hitting against each other as they walk the halls is a taunt to every other sports team at Citrus Prep.
“At least you have that little competition with Ella to fall back on if we don’t win in lacrosse,” Hardy says.
“Yeah.” I force a laugh and hope he doesn't hear how hollow it is over the sound of everyone else talking. I know Hardy means well, but he doesn't know that I’m not even in the running anymore or that it was never a “little competition” to me.
It was everything.
Hardy takes advantage of my one-word response and starts talking to the guy in front of us, another lacrosse player. “What do you think? We going to state this year?”
They talk about our rival school briefly before comparing summer vacations. I’m content to sit and listen when I feel my phone buzz in my pocket. I pull it out and see I have a text from Ava asking where I am. I don’t want to encourage her clinginess, but I still send back a reply almost immediately.
Decided to sit with some of the lacrosse players.
A text bubble appears, disappears, then appears again.
No text comes through, but when I spot her in the front row, she’s turned in her seat scanning the auditorium. Her head tilts when she finds me as she tries to puzzle out why I’m way back here. She turns back around and my phone buzzes again.
You should be up here in the front. That’s where the president is supposed to sit. Right next to the vice president.
I sigh loudly.
It’s not like we have to do anything for this assembly. Just sit there and look pretty.
It’s more than that, and you know it. We need to be a unified front for the rest of the student body. It’s the best way to lead them.
I shove my phone in my backpack after reading her text. I’m not interested in being a unified front, and I don’t want to read anything else she has to say about it.
Hardy turns to me, his eyes going to my bag and back to my face. “You good?”
I lean back in my chair. “Let’s just say I’m ready to get this assembly over with.”
As if on cue, the lights in the auditorium lower, and a large screen on the stage illuminates with our school logo. Our headmaster walks out with a microphone in hand. He’s a lean man in his fifties with thick-rimmed glasses and an unnatural love for bowties. Today, he iswearing a bright orange one that is surely a nod to our mascot.
An actual orange.
The school is saturated with the color, and any branded item coming out of Citrus High is a bright hue that is completely unflattering for most of the student body. Dr. Freck might be the only one who actually enjoys wearing it.
His voice carries over the speakers as he welcomes us. “Good morning, and thank you for coming to the start-of-school assembly.”
“As if we had a choice,” someone behind me remarks. It’s followed by a snicker.
“We are so excited for another year here at Citrus High. As you know, we pride ourselves in innovation and always pushing ourselves to be better.”
