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They didn’t have time to respond before I plucked my tray from the table and went to empty it over the trash cans. Mason couldn’t have gone far. I could find him in the hall before my next class started.
I wasn’t really sure why I wanted to catch up with him at all. Or why I couldn’t get him out of my thoughts. He so clearly didn’t want to be my friend. Still, there was something about him that seemed to draw me in. The guy just needed someone to talk to. Someone who could make it past his deadly stare and closed-off gestures to the boy inside.
I just couldn’t help myself. I had to try. After all, it was on my vision board to spread happiness this year.
I’d almost made it to the cafeteria exit when Mrs. Alberts, the school secretary, flagged me down. She wore her usual green tweed power suit combo with her long gray hair twisted into a severe knot at the base of her neck. Clicking across the linoleum floor in her sensible heels, she smiled sweetly and touched my arm.
“Trina, dear, everyone is so excited to see what you’ve come up with for that statue of yours,” she said.
Immediately, my stomach dropped to the floor and the room seemed to tilt. Up until today, the senior project had seemed like such a far-fetched idea. Like it wasn’t real. But now, the news was out. This really was my first art commission and I couldn’t screw this up.
Mrs. Alberts must’ve seen the mild panic that swept over me because she squeezed my elbow and shook her head. “There’s no need to worry, c
hild. You’re going to do splendidly. Now, you hurry on to class while I go and grab one of those blueberry crumb muffins before they sell out. I’ve been missing them over the holidays. They keep me regular.”
“Yeah, don’t want to be irregular,” I mumbled as relief trickled down my spine.
Okay, so that was a bit of a freak out moment. Usually, I didn’t get all panicky about my art skills. They were something I loved. Something that soothed me. Getting into medical school was what I really got all sweaty-palmed about. And disappointing my parents. Thinking about that could keep me up at night staring up at the ceiling of my room for hours. Worry had a way of wrapping its icy fingers around my neck lately.
Geez — I really needed to get a grip on that vision board.
Nodding goodbye to Mrs. Alberts, I headed down the hall in search of Mason. He couldn’t have made it very far. I thought about what I’d say when I found him. How I could worm my way into being his friend. Honestly, this was a new experience. I wasn’t used to begging people to be my friends.
I prided myself on knowing the name of every single kid who went to Rock Valley High. Making friends was easy enough, if you just looked people in the eyes when they talked. Everyone in this world wanted to make a connection, whether that was for a thirty second conversation about their day or a long chat over coffee. Those connections were what kept us grounded. Kept us sane. And if I could make one person’s day better by offering them that connection they needed, then I could go away happy.
Maybe that’s all that Mason needed.
But as I rounded the corner toward the office, all of those thoughts about connections flew out of my head. A backpack lay on the floor, its contents sprawled across the polished tiles. Two kids were locked in a fight, shoving each other and trying their best to land punches. Streams of angry curses filled the air.
This was definitely not the kind of connection I’d been thinking about.
“Stop that!” I croaked, my vocal chords refusing to work. Somebody had to end this. They were only going to hurt each other. Violence didn’t solve anything. “Please, don’t do that!”
But before I could get my feet to move forward, a blur shot out of the far hallway and grabbed the taller kid by his shirt, pinning him hard against a locker. My vision cleared and I inhaled sharply when I realized it was Mason who’d come to the rescue.
“Quit it!” His voice was barely above the level of a growl. He glanced back and forth between the kids. “Now.”
My heart beat loudly as I watched the pinned kid struggle against Mason’s arm.
“Man, I was just about to beat his face into the floor. What the —?”
“Try that again and I’ll personally see to it that you’re benched from JV for the rest of January,” Mason answered, his face inches from the kid’s. “You’re better than this, Scotty. You can’t go around picking fights. You want to ruin your life for something as stupid as that? Just to pick on a kid trying to keep to himself? He doesn’t deserve that.”
I couldn’t help but stare at the coiled muscles along Mason’s back and arms as he kept Scotty pinned. There was one thing I was certain of: basketball did give that boy some nice looking muscles. It was probably one of the reasons all of the girls like Charley knew his name. He looked good. And seeing him charge in here and break up a fight like a superhero was doing funny things in the pit of my stomach.
“All right, all right.” Scotty rested the back of his head on the locker, the fight going out of his body. “I’m done, okay?”
“Good.” Mason dropped his arm from Scotty’s chest and frowned. “Now, apologize to him, or I’ll let Coach Ben know what you’ve been up to.”
The look on Scotty’s face nearly made me snort with giggles and give away my hiding spot. I was pretty sure he’d never been made to apologize for a single thing in his life. With a barely concealed scowl, he walked toward the other kid and extended a hand.
I retreated another step around the corner and leaned against the wall, fighting off the smile that was threatening to burst across my lips. Yet more proof that Mason Finnick wasn’t such a tin heart after all. If he could stop a fight like that and get them to apologize, he really might be a superhero.
This was a sign. A great sign. And a great reason to talk to him again.
As I took a deep breath for courage, I rounded the corner and found it empty. No angry basketball players. No signs of a fight. Not a whisper. It was like Mason Finnick had disappeared again. Vanished, into thin air.
“Totally a ninja,” I whispered, for the second time in a matter of minutes.
