“It’s finally nice to meet you, Crawford.” Mr. Burtenshaw holds out his hand for me to shake.
“We’ve heard a lot about you,” Mr. Gains says, also holding his hand out.
“It’s nice to meet you,” I say, shaking both men’s hands. “Have you met my dad, Mitch?” I ask, gesturing to my dad.
“We have,” Mr. Gains says.
“Most quarterbacks of your caliber have already decided where they’re going to play college football.” Mr. Burtenshaw states.
I open my mouth, but my dad beats me to it, as usual. “Crawford’s keeping his options open. I want to ensure the school he plays for is a perfect fit.”
“Let’s all sit down.” Coach Anderson gestures to everyone.
“We can understand that. We think Oregon could be that perfect fit for you.” Mr. Gains sits forward in his chair.
Here comes their presentation. I’m so sick of this. I wish my old man would give up this stupid fight. He’s not going to win. I’m not going to go to the school he wants. I’m going to the school I want. I don’t finish talking to the Oregon coaches until halfway through the next period.
When I walk into chemistry, everyone’s paired off into partners, working on the first lab. Perfect. I get to spend the rest of the semester working by myself. I’ll have to stay and finish the lab during lunch if I don’t want to fall behind. Mr. Kazansky holds out his hand for my note.
“Another College scout?” He asks, pursing his lips, looking irritated.
“Yes, sorry, sir. I won’t let it affect my chemistry grade.”
Mr. Kazansky nods. “So, who was it today?”
I clear my throat to keep the smile off my face. I guess he’s not as annoyed as he seems if he’s interested in who I met with. “The University of Oregon, sir.”
“Oregon wants you?” We both glance at the Oregon flag hanging over his desk.
“Yes, sir.”
“That’s an influential school. It’s my alma mater.” He puffs his chest out with pride.
“Yes, they are. I’m definitely considering them.” I smile, even though they don’t make the top ten.
“Good for you, Mr. Cross. Everyone has found partners for the semester, but Miss Clark volunteered to work alone. You can partner with her or work by yourself as well.”
“Thank you, sir.” My heart soars with a mixture of love and relief. My girl has got my back.
I walk over to Hannah’s station and sit my backpack down. “Clark.”
She puts her hands on her hips. “Crawford.” Hannah is the only person I’ve ever let get away with calling me by my full name.
“Mr. Kazansky told me to come work with you.”
“Fine. Are you just going to stand there looking constipated, or are you going to help me with the experiment?”
A girl at the station next to us gasps and drops a beaker. It shatters, sending pieces everywhere.
“When you’re done cleaning up your mess, Miss Smith, make sure you fill out an incident report,” Mr. Kazansky tells her, not getting upset.
“Whoops.” Hannah bites her lip to keep from laughing.
She’s so cute that I want to pull her to me and kiss her, but I decide to play along instead. “Sheesh, Clark, pretty sure you’re the one who could use an ex-lax to help clean out whatever has crawled up your ass and died. Just tell me what to do. I know that’s your specialty.”
Hannah puts her hands on her hips, staring at me wide-eyed. She tries to keep a straight face, but a smile keeps trying to break free. “Look, Crawford, don’t forget who’s helping whom in this situation.”
To keep from bursting out laughing and losing our little game of wits, I turn around and sit on the stool. I pull my chemistry lab book and calculations notebook out of my backpack and open it to the same page as her. I glance at Hannah, and she’s wiping tears of laughter out of her eyes. “There, there, don’t cry,” I say in a mocking tone.
