“In 1833, the British Parliament established the Factory Commission to investigate the conditions of child labor in textile mills. The resulting Factory Act limited the number of working hours of children and required basic education for those employed therein.”
“Thank you, Ms. Bennett.” Callister fixed me with a stern glare.“Next time, Mr. Mercer, just read the damn text.”
I let out a breath, and the anxiety in my head eased off like a pressure valve.
“I could never back-talk a teacher like that,” Tessa whispered from beside me with a flirtatious smile. “You’re awfully brave.”
She was an actress, the star of all the school musicals and plays. A sweet girl, and extremely beautiful. Destined for Hollywood. But I couldn’t take my eyes off the girl in the front row. The one who’d just saved my arse, even if she didn’t know it.
Harper must’ve felt my gaze because she turned around again. I expected irritation painted on her face for my “antics,” but there was only confusion. Our eyes met, and she stiffened and turned back around.
I see you, Harper Bennett…
But she was starting to see me too. I was feelingseen. Found. Whatever that meant.
Class let out and as we stepped into the hallway, I caught Harper’s eye again, only because I was watching her. Couldn’t take my eyes off this girl. In that half heartbeat where our gazes clashed, my pulse quickened, and her mouth parted slightly before she looked away.
I didn’t want her to look away.
And what, pray tell, would you do if she doesn’t?
I had no answer. I’d never been affected by a girl beyond bodily lust. If I wanted to get laid, I could. I never treated anyone poorly, but I made it clear that the evening would be just that—one evening.
But Harper wasn’t one evening.
So what is she?
I had no answer there either. Little glances aside, she didn’t like me very much. Or at least she didn’t fall at my feet like everyone else did.
I like that she doesn’t like me. Make of that what you will.
When Professor Wolfe was a no-show for Advanced Piano again, the disappointment verged on wrath. The first week of school wasn’t over, and the year was shaping up to be a real shit show, as my Americanmates liked to say. Callister and his cold-calling were bloody dangerous—I was good at deflecting, but notthatgood—and the one class I actually looked forward to was taught by a teacher who didn’t know how to read a fucking calendar.
I forced the anger down into the depths and found a study room where I used my text-to-speech to commit the first three chapters of history to memory, just like I had with chemistry. All the new information crowded my memory circuits, but I got it all in there. I had to; I couldn’t afford another cockup with Callister.
As I was packing up, my phone read me a text from Tucker.
Parking lot ASAP. We got a live one.
What fresh hell…?
I went to the parking lot where Tucker, Rhett, Aria, and Brent Reynolds from crew were crouched behind Tucker’s huge truck. They all watched as Harper Bennett walked to her little blue car whereSECOND WARNING BENDER!was soaped onto the back windshield.
“What the bloody shit is this?” I demanded.
“Shhh.” Tucker elbowed me in the side. “This year’s senior prank.”
“We had other fresh meat picked out,” Rhett said. “Some nerd named Xander, but he’ssomuch of a Bender, he doesn’t even own a car.”
“Only a bicycle.” Aria giggled. “Sacrifices had to be made.”
My hands clenched into fists. “So you’re going to pick on a girl? How chivalrous.”
Tucker gave me a strange look. “Since when do you give a shit, Mercer? This is the senior prank.”
Harper glanced around. Goddamn, my heart ached at the anguish on her face. Then something like fierce pride roared up in me as she held her head high and climbed into her car with dignity.
“That,” Rhett said, “is a fine piece of automotive engineering.”
