“Tired. It’s like I’m scrubbing away at nothing,” I say, gesturing to the tables.
“Why did you get such a long sentence anyway?”
That’s kind of a funny way to describe it. It basically is a sentence. I’m surprised she doesn’t know why. I assumed everyone would know about another position of lowliness I’ve been forced into.
“Ward thinks Devon and I have been spreading the rumors about each other. Thatwe’reAces.”
“Who do you think it is?” Belle asks. I pause, considering whether I should share my list of suspects.
“It could be anyone,” I answer.Anyone. I look down. I keep going back to my list, but I just can’t see how any of the people I thought it might be would be capable of doing all of this. “Who do you think it is?”
“Maybe someone jealous of your perfect looks and grades,” she says. My skin burns.
I don’t know how to respond to that, so I don’t.
There’s silence for a little while, which is only filled by my scrubbing and sighs, until I hear the sound of Belle’s sneakers as she steps forward, taking a seat on one of the desks in the room.
“I’m kind of in the mood to ditch lacrosse and stay in here with you. Do you have a second brush?”
Why would someone want to clean on purpose?
“I haven’t got a second one… but you can take mine,” I say, holding it out with a smile.
She stares at me with a smirk on her pink lips. Then she places her lacrosse stick on the table and strides over to me, inches away. I’m taller than Belle, with or without these knitted Chloé sock boots, yet I feel small next to her.
Her eyes flick over to the door, then back to me. She looks mischievous, like she wants to do something that could get us both in trouble. I feel the same way, but I’m not sure what she has in mind. She grabs the toothbrush out of my hand and takes the bucket in her other, and I watch her.
My heart is going faster than it does when there’s an Aces blast.
“So I just dunk it in, swish it around, then scrub the table?” she asks, turning.
I don’t think I can form an answer with the noise in my mind. All I can think about is whether I should do this—test out this unstable theory I have.
Her head moves back when I don’t answer. “Or am I wrong? Is there some profound way to clean a desk?”
Belle being nice to me could just be a symptom of wanting to strengthen this friendship that came out of nowhere. Or it could be something else, something that doesn’t fit into the odds. You can’t calculate emotion.
She steps closer. The soapy water swishes as she puts the bucket back down on the desk. She waves her hand in front of my face.
“Earth to Chiamaka.”
Belle always smells of vanilla, with a hint of something even sweeter. It makes me want to drop everything and be unscientific about this.
I want to be unscientific about this… so bad.
But what if I test out this theory and it isn’t correct? What then?
“Are you okay?” Belle asks, looking worried now.
“I’m confused, trying to work out whether we are friends or not.” I surprise myself as the truth just slips out.
Belle looks a little hurt by the statement, but I didn’t mean it the way it came out.
“I thought we were.”
“What if I don’t want to be friends?”
I don’t want to say the rest out loud.
