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With two minutes left until the bell, I didn’t bother locking my bike to the rack when I got to it. I tripped as I hopped off, sprinting to the doors. I was going to make it.
The hallway was empty as I ran down it, sneakers slamming against the linoleum, my laces flicking off the ground as they fell out of their knot. One minute.
Mr. Pieffer, the science teacher, walked out of the men’s restroom where we nearly collided. I swiveled at the last second, sneaker letting out a screech. Or maybe it was him. “Ava Jenson, we donotrun in the hallways!” he yelled, but I didn’t slow, huffing as I propelled myself up the west side staircase.
Literally a millisecond before the bell rang, I sailed through Mrs. Winston’s open classroom door. I skidded to a full stop with my palms slapping against Nina Haven’s desk, causing her to lurch away.
“Nice of you to make it, Ms. Jenson,” Mrs. Winston said with a voice that was absolutelynotpleased. She probably had already checked me off as tardy and now had to change it. “Glad to see yoursprained ankleis doing better.”
I lifted my hands from Nina’s desk to look over at another one, finding my other best friend, Maisie, sitting in her seat. Her expression was a twist ofoops, and she winced as she raised her narrow shoulders in a guilty apology.
“Please take your seat.” Mrs. Winston walked over to her door and shut it with a hard shove, causing the glass in the pane to rattle. She lifted her ancient gaze to mine, promising nothing but suffering. “And see me after the bell rings.”
* * *
“So, what did she end up saying?” Rachel asked as I followed her through the lunch line. My own packed lunch dangled from my fingertips, and I gripped my lit phone in the other hand. “Maisie said that you actually ran into the classroom. So much for our excuse.”
I cringed. “Yeah, as much as I appreciate it, maybe next time you shouldn’t lie.”
“Now she tells me.”
“She let it slide one last time.” Mrs. Winston’s reprimand hadn’t been that severe—riddled with the “just because it’s your senior year doesn’t mean you can slack off” speech—but it had been laced with a promise. One more tardy, and I had a one-way ticket to my own seat in detention.
I’d never had detention in my life, and here I was on my last warning. Only a week into the school year.
As Rachel picked out her food, I scrolled through my inbox with laser-eyed concentration, skimming the subjects of submissions to my school-centric gossip website, Brentwood Babble. For a Monday morning, when people had all weekend to do gossip-worthy stuff, tips were seriously lacking.I saw Jade and Connor at the Wallflower this weekendorAshton drunk texted Riley Friday nightorSomeone on the football team is getting held back.
I mean, the tips wereokay, but not something someone would sneak a peek at their phone under their desk to read. Nothing “drop everything and share with your top three closest friends” worthy. A few people might be drawn in by the juicy key terms, but the submissions weren’t exciting enough to capture the attention of the masses.
And since it was the beginning of the school year, capturing the attention of the masses to regain my relevancy was key.
We sat down at our lunch table, where Maisie had already claimed residence with her homework sprawled around her. Giving my burning eyes a break, I blinked up from my cell screen to the occupants of the lunch table. Rachel Manning, best friend since diapers, sat at my right. She’d loosely pulled back her brown curls with a scrunchie, letting a few pieces frame her face. Maisie had collected most of her math worksheets now, pushing her glasses up higher on her nose with her knuckle. Across from me sat Alex, Maisie’s boyfriend.
They were talking about football when Rachel dropped her voice. “I’ve been holding off saying it,” she said, attempting to scoop up her spaghetti, but it kept slipping onto her tray. Ugh. No one could’ve paid me enough to risk Brentwood’s lunch food. “At least until, like, it was legit. Until he confirmed it with me. Reed quit the football team.”
The hand holding my phone spasmed as I gasped. Her twin brother, Reed Manning, was one of the defensive linemen on the Bobcats team, and last Friday, the first game of the season, his jersey never popped up on the field. Everyone had been confused—including his sister. She must’ve confronted him about it over the weekend.
I waited, but Rachel didn’t follow her words with a punchline. “But your brother was one of the best players! Was it because he was passed up for quarterback?”
I remembered the submission to Brentwood Babble that’d come in two weeks ago, announcing the coach’s decision for quarterback. And ithadn’tbeen Reed, who’d been gunning for the top-spot his entire football career. Quite honestly, a lot of seniors had. Everyone thought the title was going to go to Connor Bray, practically the best player on the field, but a different senior, Landon Settler, had snagged the title.
But even though Landon was chosen as quarterback, Reed and his dad had been living and breathing football since the two-hand touch days. And yet, Reed justquit?
“Is it okay if it put in my blog?” I asked Rachel, already loading up theadd a new postscreen.Thatwas exactly what I needed.Thatwas “drop everything” worthy. And if I posted it before the end of the school day, everyone would be buzzing about it.
“Yeah, go ahead. I doubt he’ll be mad about it, since he already skipped last week’s game. Rumors are already flying, I bet. I don’t knowwhyhe quit, though. He won’t tell me.”
Suspicious. Selecting the bold-face text option, I got to work, forgetting about the world around me.
Another Football Player Bites the Dust???
Everyone at Brentwood High knows that being on the football team is prestigious, but what would you think if I told you someone *willingly* left the team? Well, my sources tell me that Reed Manning did just that! Before the game last Friday, he turned in his shoulder pads, hung up his jersey, and called it quits.
Tell me below: what do YOU think would’ve caused him to walk off the field?
Weird, weird, weird.
“Maisie,” I said as I looked up from the screen. “Can I send over an article for you to proof after your tutoring? Just about this month’s school events.”
