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“Most Likely To: Never Have Their First Kiss.”
She lifted her chin, a true curiosity lingering in her eyes. “You don’t find that offensive?”
Well, Idid, but I’ve already gone ahead and fixed that problem. “I mean, it’s a little rude, sure. But I’ve dealt with worse.”
Most of the submissions to Brentwood Babble werewayworse than the List. Like how last week, someone had submitted all the juicy details of Nathan Tulane’s possible cheating.
“How are things going at home, Ava?”
Principal Oliphant was smiling, but the subject change caught me so off guard that I actually jolted in my seat. “What?”
“How are things going with your home life?” She checked the paperwork again. “Jenson, right? Is your father Howard Jenson? I went to high school with him, and with your mother. They were high school sweethearts.”
I knew that story. Dad was on the football team, linebacker of the Bobcats, and Mom had been a cheerleader. The clichéd school couple, except they lasted more than a week after homecoming. They lasted twenty years. They used to have pictures of their golden days framed in the hallway, Mom decked out in her sweater cheer uniform, Dad in his cheap-looking shoulder pads.
That photo disappeared before Dad even moved out, and in hindsight, I should’ve realized that’d been a bad sign.
“Ava, Mrs. Winston says you’ve been showing up to class late.”
When Mrs. Winston would’ve had the time to tattle, I had no idea. But I had a lightbulb moment. “I’ve been having a tough time transitioning back into the school year,” I said slowly, thinking it through as I spoke. “My dad’s…shift at work changed, and he’s been gone. A lot. It’s been rough.”
It was sort of a lie, sort of the truth. As long as they blended together smoothly enough, it would be okay.
Principal Oliphant nodded thoughtfully. “The beginning of the school year can be quite tough to get back in the swing of things. Especially when the home routine is also tumultuous.”
“I have a detention for the tardies.” I looked down at my lap, pinching my leg until my eyes began to sting. Rachel was the performer, but maybe I could pull it off. “I just—do you think I could get one more chance? I promise, I won’t be late again.”
“Tell you what,” she said, leaning her elbows onto the desk. “Since it’s the beginning of the year, we can let this slide. Especially since things have been so tough as of late.”
I clamped my teeth together to keep from sighing in relief.
“Well, if you ever want to speak with the counselor, please let me know.” She straightened the papers on her desk, straightened her pen, and then rose to her feet. “About the Most Likely To list or about anything else. Okay, Ava?”
The way she kept repeating my name almost felt as if she was trying to hypnotize me or something. Like if she said it enough times, I’d suddenly spill everything out. She’ddefinitelyrehearsed this routine. I felt sorry for anyone who came after me. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
Principal Oliphant beamed, as if that bogus answer was a satisfactory one in disguise.
She walked me out into the main office area, keeping that smile in place while the secretary wrote me an excuse note. Last period had already started, which meant I’d have to sneak into class late.
“Have a great rest of your day,” Principal Oliphant called as I opened the door out into the hallway. As it was shutting behind me, I heard her voice once more. “Okay, so who’s next?”
Since my parents’ separation, I’d gotten used to having dinner on my own.
We’d never really been the type of family to eat dinners together, anyway. Dad usually stayed late at the college grading papers while Mom normally ate dinner with her clients or coworkers. These past few weeks, though, I’d been taking my meals much earlier, mostly because I found myself wiped out around ten o’clock. For a girl who used to love pulling all-nighters, it was insane.
I stirred my fork through my pasta. I’d overcooked it this time, leaving my penne noodles all mushy and depressing. The sauce was the only thing saving it.
While forcing myself through the soft and squishy meal, I checked my inbox for any new articles. A lot of them mentioned the list somehow, but the idea of writing an article about the Most Likely Tos turned my limbs to lead. For the school to finally drop the topic, I’d have to stop writing about it.
The overall vote of the comments was that they liked the sort of yearbook spread I did with everyone’s headshots tied to their labels. There were a few who didn’t have photos that I could find, and it’d been mostly freshmen who’d unfortunately made the cut. Despite everything—being on the list, kissing Reed, and Rachel’s father trying to solicit me behind her back—that was a much-needed ego boost.
I opened up my inbox, staring at the email I’d drafted with a sick feeling lingering in my throat. I blamed it on the pasta. It definitely wasn’t because the subject line readAva Jenson – Manning Construction Website Design Proposal.
Even though I’d had a conversation with her earlier, I wasn’t stupid enough to think that Rachel would be cool with this if she knew the truth. Her encouragement would’ve drastically changed if she knew that the person who wanted to work with me was really her father. But still, it was such an opportunity. Experience gained, money earned for Mom’s bills, and Rachel would never have to know. Right?
That seemed to be my mantra lately.
If you have to keep secrets from your best friend,my brain said,you’re doing something wrong.
