I look over at Parker. “Why couldn’t you just leave him alone?”
He shrugs. “He’s fun to mess with.”
“Yeah, well, mess with someone else. You know the rules. Nobody sees us fight. Ever. You want to mess with someone, mess with Ella.” I check my phone. “Shit, I gotta get to class.”
I take off, heading to AP Physics. Every damn class I have is AP, thanks to my controlling father, who met with my advisor to pick my classes. I’m counting the seconds until I graduate, cash in my car, and can finally do whatever the fuck I want. My father will still try to control me but his threats won’t work because I’ll be on my own.
“Briggs.” Ms. Whittaker stops me in the hall, shoving her glasses up and smiling at me. “I spoke with your father yesterday and—”
“Can we talk about this later? I’m late to class.” I say it just as the bell goes off.
“Don’t worry about that. I’ll walk you in and explain to Ms. Rollins that we were talking.”
How does she know I have Ms. Rollins next? Did she memorize my schedule? My dad probably paid her to, then paid her to track me to make sure I show up to class. I wouldn’t be the least bit surprised if he did.
“So you talked to my dad?” I ask, adjusting my messenger bag on my shoulder.
“Yes, he had some concerns.” Her smile fades as her expression turns serious. “Perhaps we could go to my office.”
“I’d rather just do it here.” I grit my teeth, anger coursing through my veins. I hate my father for doing this, for getting himself involved in my school. I don’t show up at his company and tell him what to do. Why can’t he just leave me the fuck alone?
Ms. Whittaker takes a step closer. She smells like really bad perfume, like dead roses mixed with cedar. It’s the type of scent an old person would wear but she’s not that old. I’m guessing she’s thirty, or around there.
“Your father is concerned about your grades,” she says, lowering her voice. “I think you’re doing quite well, but like most parents, your father wants you to do your best so he asked me to talk to you about your options.”
“Options for what?”
“Options to boost your grades. For instance, extra credit projects. As I’m sure you’re aware, extra credit could boost you beyond your 4.2 grade point, which is what you’ll need to—”
“Be valedictorian,” I say, finishing for her because I’m about to explode if she continues talking about this. Any other parent would be thrilled their kid has a 4.2 GPA, but not my father. Nothing’s good enough for him.
“I’m sure you want that too,” Ms. Whittaker says, smiling. “And I’m happy to help you get there with whatever suggestions I could offer to bring your grade point up.”
“I have no problem with my grade point,” I say, my jaw so tight it’s about to snap.
“Well, yes,” she says with a nervous laugh. “Obviously, you’re doing quite well but thereissomeone ahead of you.”
“Ella Quinn.”
“I can’t confirm that. I can only—”
“I know it’s her. She told me. So what would it take to beat her?”
Ms. Whittaker adjusts her glasses. “Well, as I mentioned, you could consider doing some extra credit.”
“That’s it? Just extra credit?”
“Since you’re both taking an equal number of AP classes, that’s pretty much all you can do.”
“What if something happened to her?” I blurt out, then realize how bad that sounded. I smile. “I didn’t mean it that way. I meant if she got in trouble for something. Or if either of us did, would that count against us?”
“No. The valedictorian title is based strictly on grades.” She tilts her head, eyeing me. “Why are you asking about this? Has Ella done something I need to know about?”
I could make something up and get her in trouble, but it wouldn’t do any good if grades are all that matter.
“It was just a question,” I say. “Are we done here? I don’t want to miss more of class.”
“Of course.” She heads to the classroom.
