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“I know we’re not exactly close or anything—”

“We’re not anything at all.”

“Well.” He crosses his arms against his chest. “We won’t ever be with that attitude.”

“I want to get to my class before the bell rings,” I tell him. The halls will be flooded soon, and Peter Macintosh, who is ranked eighteenth in our grade and purposely asks questions he knows the answers to so he can slow down the lessons, always takes my favorite seat if I’m not quick enough. “So, pick someone else to converse with.”

I try to move around him, but he matches my pace. “We can walk and talk.”

“No thanks.” I quicken my step.

He speeds up. “All right, no-nonsense, I like that. I’ll cut to the chase. Represent me for my mock trial.”

“No.” I turn the corner toward my next class.

I glance toward him and see him visibly swallow down his annoyance, as if he isn’t bothering me. “Look, you’re the student’s champion. You’ve never lost a case before, so I need you.”

When I’m with Lexie, everything in me eases. A rippleless current flows through me. An easy-to-fall-into comfort I don’t ever feel myself sliding into until I’m wrenched from it by the presence of other people, like right now.

My muscles stiffen, and irritation floods me. If he makes me late, then I won’t be able to scan my notes one last time before the exam.

At my silence, he adds, “Isn’t this your thing? Don’t you want to add another tally to your wins?”

“I’m already ahead of the juniors.” I pause. “With a cushion for a total of thirty-seven points accumulating from freshman year. I’m good for it.”

Bell-Haven’s Law Society is only available to the top twenty students in their grade.

The club is the singular reason I dedicated my entire childhood to studying. Recess spent reading books Mom kept from high school. Free time at home forcing my dad to hold up index cards while I studied for the SAT pre–high school to show my talent and ambition.

Two things needed to not only get into Bell-Haven but to be the recipient of the single scholarship provided by the private school. I started drinking coffee at the age of thirteen so I didn’t waste time sleeping when I could be studying. When that didn’t work, I chewed jalapeños so the spice woke me up.

The club’s main focus is helping members stoke their passion for a career in law. We do that by being available to fellow students who are facing minor disciplinary actions—nothing too major. That’s for the people with actual authority. But missed absences? Nonviolent arguments? Defacing school property? Small mishaps. Either the student requests representation or Ms. Cortez or Mr. Moore—the club’s two advisors—assigns us cases and places us as defenders or prosecutors.

Then we have mock trials that simulate court cases. Members become lawyers, and we use witnesses and have three rotating judges to prove our case to. Winning a case by proving innocence wins us one point; lightening the students’ sentence gives us half.

By senior year, the student with the highest tally is awarded a special letter of recommendation to a local law office for a summer internship, where I plan to network, build my résumé, and begin my seven-year plan toward Harvard. I’ll head to undergrad, work as an intern until I graduate, and then head straight to my dream university.

Five points ahead in the middle of junior year is a nice cushion, but my academic ranking is at risk since I fell behind while taking care of my dad after his fall. I need to dedicate my time to studying while I have a lead.

Theo steps in front of me, blocking my path. “Look, I heard you were offered the case and dropped it, but I swear I didn’t do it. Why the hell would I deface the founder’s statue? I have better things to do with my time, I promise.”

Ms. Cortez, the English teacher and one of the Law Society’s advisors, brought me the case earlier this morning. Though Theo Hudson is vexing to teachers because of a “careless attitude,” he’s an excellent student, ranked seventh in the junior class despite accumulating enough absences to warrant a suspension. His current punishment is too harsh.

I could tell she was disappointed when I said I didn’t want the case, but I don’t have the same soft spot for popular jocks with mischievous eyes and charming grins. As if I’d care much about some golden boy without a worry in the world getting one thing taken from him. I’m pretty sure his life is perfect enough that this will barely be a concern for him in a couple of months from now.

“That doesn’t matter to me,” I say, moving around him and continuing on my way. It’s true—it doesn’t matter. I’ve won cases where the student was absolutely guilty.

“Shouldn’t it? Aren’t lawyers supposed to be just?”

“I’m not a real lawyer,” I say, “and it’s not about being ‘just.’ It’s about winning whatever side you represent, and I’m not repping you.”

“Come on, why not?”

I suck my teeth at the continued interruption. “I don’t have the time to do it.”

He moves and blocks my path again. “Why not?”

I blow out a harsh breath of air. “Because I need to study.”