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The seconds ticked by. Was the clock moving even slower than usual, as if to punish me for being dismissive about Nameless New Guy? How cruel.
Normally, I’d be taking frantic notes, jotting down everything Professor Forester even glancingly mentioned. You don’t get to be pre-med without being what I’d call “very anal.” I’d had perfect handwriting since I was eight years old. I was the kid in class whose notes everybody vied to get, and also the kid who everyone hated when she aced each test. Being called a kiss ass, admittedly, wasn’t the worst thing you could be dubbed in high school. For that matter, being deemed a ‘prude’ hurt a lot more.
But my type-A personality, which spanned both my academic and extracurricular life, was what got me to a full ride scholarship. My handwriting was still perfect, my notes were still awesome and my grades were still exemplary.
Today was different. Today, I slacked like every other kid in the class — okay, that was generalizing, I guess Sheera worked hard, too. Was this what it felt like to be lazy? I tasted the word on my tongue. It was never a thing that had even nominally applied to me, and it was strange to even consider. One day off thinking and working hard couldn’t hurt, right?
Besides, I was going to have to fight like the devil in practice. No way would I let this new coach, whomever he may be, think I was anything less than terrifyingly hard working. Oh baby, I’d show him.
My phone beeped. Again, on the average day, I wouldn’t check it in class, that was a bad habit and also rude. Today? I didn’t give a shit.
I shot my eyes down to my lap, where the screen indicated that Grace was outside the building, waiting for me, so that we could walk to practice together. My foot tapped, and my gaze bore into the clock. Moments later, the clock at last, blessedly, hit three. I bolted out of my desk, slinging my backpack over my shoulder and nearly hitting the guy next to me — sorry! — and ran out of the door. I didn’t have to look behind me to know that people in class were shooting me skeptical looks. In case you couldn’t infer, I was the girl who usually stays until ten minutes past the end time, finishing up notes and asking the teacher some final questions.
But I was fleeing the classroom like the other stoners. Or, rather, the stoners weren’t fleeing so much as they were shuffling with some goal in the vague direction of the door. I digress.
Grace was, as promised, waiting on the stone steps of the building, bundled in her warm North Face, a travel mug of coffee in her hand. I’d never met someone who so earnestly and profoundly loved coffee until Grace. It was like a hobby for her.
“You excited?” I asked.
She blew on the mug, trying to play it cool. “Uh, I guess. Curious, at least.”
I rolled my eyes at her apathetic act. “Come on, you’re telling me you’re not even a little, I dunno, intrigued by the prospect of a new guy?”
Grace stared me down, then relented, dropping her Parisian artist persona.
“Okay,” she allowed. “I’m excited.”
I smiled and said, “That’s all I was looking for.”
We began walking to the gym. Generally, practice started on the field, and then we broke for some gym time if need be. Already the new coach was switching things up.
“Why gym?” Grace wondered absently, as if reading my thoughts.
“Presumably strength training,” I replied. “He may just wanna take in our sheer muscle effectiveness before seeing us out on the field.”
She looked at me sideways. “Somebody’s been thinking about this.”
I blushed. “Well, y’know. I’m just interested.”
Grace nodded, understanding. “Same.” She shifted the duffel further up on her shoulder. “Actually, I’ve been looking high and low for some hints as to who the hell he is.”
“Oh yeah? Must you know everyone’s secrets?”
“Yeah. Nada.”
This was startling. I didn’t expect Grace to turn up a whole dossier on the dude, but she did have mad sleuthing skills. Like, when you wanted to stalk a crush via the Internet, Grace was your girl. I think she would’ve been a comp sci major if she hadn’t liked spilling the tea on people so much, hence, pre-law.
For Grace to have found nothing… either he was a Luddite or a mystery or both. Intriguing.
“You don’t even have a guess?” I pressed, embarrassed by my own rampant curiosity.
“Like I said — nada.” She paused. “They didn’t tell you either, Ms. Team Captain?”
I shrugged. “Nope. I know you all think the athletic board runs everything by me, but uh, they don’t care about my opinion. So, nope, no privileged information on my end.”
Grace sighed dramatically. Everything was dramatic with her.
