If I had the highest score, Cassie couldn’t have been far behind. Then again, with what Mr. Riley said about her classes… “Thank you,” I say. Hopefully that’s enough to conclude this conversation. “It’ll be mutually beneficial, I’m sure.”
Cass says nothing. Doesn’t offer Mr. Riley a fake smile, an angry stare, even a long sigh. She doesn’t look at me either. There’s no lift of her eyebrows to show she’s ready to mock him when we’re alone again. Her entire face is expressionless.
As soon as his door opens, she bolts out of the room.
CHAPTER FIVE
“SAVANNAH, WAIT!”
I whirl around without recognizing the voice– male and deep, though nothing like Mr. Riley’s.
Marcos jogs up to me, backpack bouncing against his shoulders. “Do you have a second?”
I need to find Cassie. With that chill in her eyes, I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s stormed out the entrance like a hurricane, not bothering to stop at the front desk to sign out. There’s a chance I can still catch her.
Marcos runs a hand through his unruly, dark curls. “I’m sorry again about yesterday. From here on out, I will make sure that no Frisbees come your way without your permission.”
Before I can stop myself, my lips lift in a half-smile. That’s enough for his shoulders to relax. Broad shoulders that nicely fill out his red T-shirt without the “I’m so jacked” swagger of other guys in my grade.
“Glad to see that chivalry’s not dead after all,” I say.
He laughs, dimples deepening. Any last vestiges of annoyance from yesterday are swept away by that laugh.
“I’m looking for Cassie.” I glance over my shoulder in case I catch gold hair and a bright yellow dress fluttering past the windows.
“Oh, yeah, I just saw her. Looked like she was heading toward the courtyard.”
Safely surrounded by four walls. I exhale. It’s not that I don’t trust Cassie behind the wheel; it’s just that, even in the best of times, she’s the definition of “distracted driver.”
He grips his backpack straps like he’s gearing up for something. “Um, I dropped something off at the office and overheard part of your conversation with Mr. Riley. The part about tutoring.”
In twenty-four hours, I’ve gone from never talking to this guy to him taking an active role in my life. A disruptive one, I might add. “Oh, yeah, Cassie doesn’t actually need tutoring.” She needs me right now, though. I know that much.
“How much do you charge?”
I need to shake him off. I have a best friend to find. “You’re better off asking my dad.”
He smiles and that crooked tooth somehow emphasizes the warmth of his grin even more, like an exclamation point. “That’s why Mr. Riley congratulated you on your PSAT score, right?”
Which then sent Cassie sprinting out of the room.
“Sorry,” he says, sensing my impatience. “I need to get my GPA up for this free tuition scholarship at Suffolk.” He hikes up his backpack onto his shoulders. “I don’t have much cash, but I work at Pav’s. I can hook you up with free fajitas.”
What does it say about me that I’m not swayed by his dimples, his callused hands, but by the prospect of sizzling hot chicken wrapped in a warm corn tortilla? “Okay, deal. Let’s talk in gym.”
“Thank you, Savannah!” he calls from behind me as I take off, causing several freshmen to look at us and giggle.
BY THE TIME I throw open the door to the courtyard, the bell has rung for fifth period and I’m certain the door to my Spanish class has already been slammed shut. Tarde, Se?ora Gutierrez will cluck.
Cassie leans back against the white stone ring around the fountain, face tilted to the sun. Her yellow dress and pale skin glow in the light.
“I was wondering when you’d show up.” Her voice is staccato.
I join her on the stone and wince. It’s chilly, even in my jeans. How the hell she’s sat out here in a dress for this long is beyond me. “I was intercepted by Marcos Castillo.”
Normally any mention of a guy is enough to get Cassie grinning and elbowing me. Today, nothing.
“I’m sorry about Mr. Riley,” I say. Was it my fault? No. I didn’t ask him to embarrass both of us. But I am sorry that she had to sit there while the assistant principal played us off one another.
Her voice is as empty as the fountain. “At least you got him to shut up.”
“You’re gonna blow everyone away with your portfolio.” It’s true that I’ve not yet seen the results of said portfolio, although I’ve stood on numerous beach rocks over the summer and gazed deeply at the waves while her shutter snapped. Come on, Cass. Look at me.
With a sigh, she draws herself up and meets my eyes for the first time. The look is steel blue, committed.
Have we reached a turning point out here in the courtyard? Will Cassie stand up, dust off her dress, and tell Mr. Riley to screw off via a perfect rest-of-the-year GPA?
“It’s just like my dad.” She’s off the stone and pacing now. The skirt trails after her, a yellow wave. “He thinks I’m going to become some freakin’ greeting card photographer. He keeps talking about ‘viable career paths.’”
I’m not going to lie–up to this point, I’d kind of assumed the same. I can’t count the amount of Slurpee-fueled sunrises she’s roused me into seeing with her. “Tell him what you want to do,” I say instead. “He’s a logical guy. Throw some facts his way.”
She throws her hands up. “What if I want to make art and see where that takes me? What if I don’t ever want to be in school again?”
Yeah, that won’t fly with Mr. Hopeswell.
There’s a shot that her mother, who sculpts in the basement and leaves half-finished projects around the house, will understand. Then again, Mrs. Hopeswell also started a small pharmaceutical company that was bought out by a major corporation before Cassie was born–so maybe not.
“Exactly,” she says to the expression on my face. “Every night, I get the same thing. You’d think someone who experiments for a living would get it. I swear to God that if it were fourteen ninety-one, he’d be insisting that the world was flat.”
I have to bite the inside of my mouth to keep from smiling.