“You’re expected to live your life. Be?—”
“Well-rounded,” I interrupt with a defeated tone.
Connor lifts his backpack off the ground. “Thank you so much for your time, Dr. Freck. This was super helpful.”
He smirks at me on his way out the door. Probably because his list of extracurriculars is impressive and everyone loves him.
“What about you, Miss Adams?” Dr. Freck asks once Connor is gone. “Do you have any more questions? Or do you think you’re ready to head back to class like Mr. Williams?”
I have plenty of questions, but the way Dr. Freck islooking at me indicates he’s not really opening up the floor. I shake my head. “No, I think I’m good. Thanks.”
He writes me a pass for Mr. Smith’s class, and I leave thinking about everything that’s happened this morning.
Connor thinks he’s won, and maybe from an outside perspective, it looks that way. Even from my point of view, it’s hard not to think things are hopeless. But this isn’t the first time I’ve had my world flipped upside down overnight. When my dad got locked up leaving my mom and I to start over, I didn’t think I’d ever be able to move past it. But here I am, still surviving.
The competition might have gotten harder, but I am still planning on being the next Citrus Scholar, and I will enjoy watching the smirk on Connor’s face disappear when I win.
4
MOST LIKELY TO BE LATE FOR CLASS
Coach Owens doesn’t bother askingme for a pass when I stroll into class twenty minutes late. I’ve spent the last three years with weightlifting as my first period. He knows me by now. Not that he’s ever been the most hands-on teacher. He simply lifts his chin, acknowledging my arrival, and goes back to correcting a freshman’s form while he does RDLs.
Thanks to this morning’s assembly and my little pit stop at Dr. Freck’s office, there’s not enough time for me to dress out, exercise, and take a shower before second period. I sit down and lean my back against one of the walls with my legs stretched out in front of me and close my eyes. It’s hard to believe the school changed the requirements for Citrus Scholar and I might actually have a chance at beating Ella after all.
After deflecting conversations about Citrus Scholar all summer—always waiting for the moment that my parentswould realize I’d failed them—I feel a new fire stir within me. I reach up and massage the tension that has settled into a hard knot in my right shoulder Maybe with the new requirements, it’ll go away once and for all.
This is great news not just for me but for my little brother, too. David’s a junior and struggling to keep his grades up. Our parents have even hired a school-appointed tutor to make sure they don’t slip. If grades don’t matter for Citrus Scholar, maybe he’ll be able to do some of the things he’s had to give up all for the sake of his GPA. The thought of him enjoying life makes me happy.
I just need to figure out what exactly Dr. Freck and his secret committee are looking for so I can not only win the scholarship for myself but figure out some kind of blueprint to help my brother.
I’m pushing my thumb over a stubborn bump right next to my neck when Jonathan sits down next to me. He’s got a friendly smile on his face when he elbows me and says, “Dr. Freck says they aren’t using GPA to determine the Citrus Scholar, and you decide you don’t have to show up to class?” I barely hear him over the sounds of music, metal clanging, and the occasional grunt in the background.
If we hadn’t been friends for years, I’d be annoyed by his comment. Instead, I know he’s just curious about what this will mean for me. I crack my eyes open and look at him. “It’s one class. Besides, didn’t you hear? Grades don’t matter.”
“I’m sure they matter a little.”
Jonathan doesn’t understand the whiplash I’ve experiencedthis morning. He doesn't know that I’ve gone from losing to Ella to having a shot. He doesn't understand the pressure I feel from my parents to win or the need to make it look easy. I shrug and try to keep my voice casual. “Either way, it’s in the bag.”
“Really? ‘Cause I heard Taylor telling everyone after the assembly the scholarship was hers.”
“Taylor Brown?”
He nods.
She thinks she has a shot at Citrus Scholar? I lift my back off the wall and cross my legs as I turn to face Jonathan. “First of all, she’s ranked third in our class. Second, in what universe is Taylor well-rounded?” My brows crinkle. I can’t think of anything she does besides show up for class, and she still ranks behind me and Ella.
“I’m just telling you what I heard.” He shrugs. “You really think you’re still going to be named Citrus Scholar?”
“Of course I am,” I say, my voice filled with more confidence than before. With every passing moment, I’m more convinced that I’m the only person who can get Citrus Scholar. Not only do I have the grades, I have everything else the other top ranking students lack—athletics, extracurriculars, and a personality outside of academics.
“What about Ella? Everyone knows how badly she wants it. I feel bad after she reacted during the assembly.”
“Don’t feel bad for her.”
Jonathan, as well as everyone else in this town, knows what her father did. Ella is guilty by association. He doesn’tsay anything else, and I smile to myself as I try to imagine how great it’s going to feel when I finally win.
The restof the day goes by in a blur of introductions and syllabi. We even got one of Ella's beloved rubrics in English for our first assignment onThe Catcher in the Rye, our summer reading. When the final bell rings for the day, I head straight for the parking lot, exhausted from the day. While I’m thrilled that Citrus Scholar is within my grasp, my brain has been racing with how I can make it happen while also balancing first day activities and Ava’s unwelcome attention.
