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“Hetoldme to date Harrison at the court that night.” I feel obligated to defend myself. I’m also admitting to a lie. When Sydney asked me what we were arguing about, I said I was lecturing him about drinking. A partial truth, not the full one.
Sydney nods right as the first bell rings as the two-minute warning. “He cares too much, Cassia. It’s not because he doesn’t careenough.”
She saysthat, then darts off. I want to call after her and demand more of an explanation. I trust Sydney. Rely on her. Harrison telling me Holden has feelings for me didn’t have the same effect.
The second warning bell rings, and it prompts me into action. The rule-following part of myself won’t allow me to be late.
I duck into first period right as the loudspeaker crackles to life for the morning announcements. I take my usual seat in the third row and flip through the pages of my planner, crossing off the assignments I’ve already finished.
“Are you going to the basketball game tonight?” London asks, leaning over. The low hum of chatter echoes around us.
“Um, no. Probably not.” My voice is sharper than I mean it to be. Mostly because ofwhothe captain of the basketball team is. My life is filled with reminders of him, and it makes me wishmy acceptance or rejection letters had already arrived so I had a solid means of escape from them.
London’s cheeks flush. “Oh. Okay.”
I grip my pen tighter, trying to get my emotions under control. “Sorry. I’m super tired. Are you going?” I struggle to keep my voice light and unaffected.
“Yeah, probably. I mean—”
“Hey, Bobcats.”
I freeze at the sound of the familiar voice. London stops talking. So does everyone else. The room I’m in is suddenly silent.
“This is Holden Adams. Tonight, we’re playing the Edgewood Ravens, so make sure that you come out and show your support. As most of you know, my dad passed away a few weeks ago. A portion of the tickets sold tonight will be donated to an organization that works to prevent drunk driving. It’s a worthy cause to support, even if you’re not a basketball fan.”
There’s a long pause, and I think he’s done talking. So does everyone else. The gossip starts up immediately, people muttering about Mr. Adams. About their plans to attend the game tonight.
“I also wanted to say…”
Silence falls again, everyone trying to hear what Holden is going to say, as if he’s whispering instead of speaking on the loudspeaker so his voice is echoing around the room.
“I’m sorry, Cassia.”
My heart takes off at a gallop. The whoosh of blood makes it hard to hear. My fingernails dig into the skin of my palm, hard enough they’re probably leaving marks. I can’t believe he’s doing this.
Here.
Now.
At all.
Years of meaning nothing to him in the four walls of this high school. And now, this. An acknowledgment that confuses every instinct.
There’s some noise in the background. The screech of feedback.
“Game tonight starts at seven. Be there or be lame.”
The loudspeaker shuts off. And everyone turns to stare at me.
My locker looks foreign. I stare at the neat row of books like I’ve never even seen it before.
My mind is preoccupied. By the stares and whispers that have followed me around all day. By the words he said and the wondering about whether he meant them.
“Hi.”
I bite on the inside of my cheek hard enough to taste blood before I turn to him.
Holden looks cool, calm, and collected as he leans against the locker next to mine. Relaxed, as he holds the strap of his backpack and stares at me.
