Chapter Twenty-One. Reid #2
He folds his arms and cuts me off. “It took weeks to get your training back on track after that assembly last year. Remember how you almost lost the fifteen hundred—to that slime Harper?” he whispers his name, knowing it’s not a great look to be talking about the kids he used to coach.
But Peter Rousseau is as much of a gossip as the rest of them. And that was my worst race in years.
When I don’t respond, he goes on, lowering his voice even more. “She’s a nice girl, but that video—”
“You mean the one that cost her everything and was a huge violation of her privacy? That video?” I glare at him, daring him to say more. We had this fight over and over last year.
Dad pinches the bridge of his nose and nods. “Let’s not get into that here. I just don’t want you to lose your focus all over again. This is your future.”
Then why don’t I get any say in it? I think.
It almost comes out of my mouth, but Principal West bursts into the conversation. “There you are, my boy!”
Josh shoots me the dirtiest look as he approaches behind him.
Oh goody, he’s already in a bad mood.
But I notice he’s not the only one looking at me sideways. Several people are glancing my way. Unlike the enthusiastic, smiling expressions at the Fun Run this morning, these are alight with intrigue or suspicion. The kind of looks that mean people are talking about you—and not in a good way.
I straighten my spine and wave at the family whose kid wore the Rousseau shirt this morning. The mom quickly averts her gaze and maneuvers the kid by his shoulders, ushering him in the opposite direction. I swipe at the sweat on my forehead, trying to calm down while West and Dad talk.
Josh appraises me with mock sympathy. “Tough day?”
Get under his skin.
My eyes go flinty, and I lower my voice so only he can hear me. “You can stop with the fucking posts, okay? You got me. I have nothing else to hide.”
Though my knee twinges as if to disagree.
A humorless laugh escapes him. “You think that’s me? As much as I enjoy watching your downfall, I have better things to worry about than contributing to it.”
I scoff, not believing that for a second.
His eyes narrow, and he steps to me, speaking low. “If you think I’m about to risk my scholarship or my dad’s program to talk about you, then you’re even more of a jackass than I thought.”
Before I can respond, Principal West wraps a gruff hand around my bicep and grins. “New couple just moved here from San Francisco. They’re eager to meet our guest of honor!”
“I’m a Legacy; I could’ve talked to them,” Josh says.
“Are you the state champion?” West asks coolly before leading me away.
Embarrassment prickles up my neck. I can’t stand Josh, but that was cold even for West.
Dad shoots me a thumbs-up and heads back to his blanket with Julianne.
I hoped I’d have tonight off from Legacy duty since this is the theater kids’ night, but I plaster on a polite smile and follow Principal West. He introduces me to the couple, then takes me on a round of Legacy Weekend sponsors, benefactors, and other people whose names and faces all blend together.
I spend the conversations imagining how they’d react if I said, I’ll probably be getting kicked out of college soon, now would you like to invest?
Maybe they’d finally leave me alone if I told them the truth.
When West finally releases me, I find Kenji and Mitchell, who have managed to nab a spot on the grassy knoll close to the stage.
Mitchell tears into the bag Julianne prepped for us and pulls out sandwiches on thick deli rolls, cheese, and grapes.
While we unwrap everything, Kenji slyly pulls out a reusable water bottle that I would bet good money doesn’t have water in it.
He takes a long swig and his eyes water. “Oh god, wine is so gross.”
“You brought wine?” Mitchell laughs.
“We’re being fancy, aren’t we?”
They both crack up, but Mitchell’s laugh falters when he looks over Kenji’s shoulder and sees Logan.
“I thought he wasn’t coming tonight,” Mitchell says.
Kenji studies Mitchell. “Guess he changed his mind. You okay?”
I frown at the question.
“Why? Do you and Logan have beef or something?” I ask, popping a grape into my mouth. “Dad did just call him a ‘slime,’” which I can’t say without laughing.
Mitchell makes some noncommittal noise, a flush covering the back of his neck. Kenji looks between me and Mitchell, and his eyebrows float up.
“Does he still not—”
Mitchell swivels his head around. “My mom’s staring at us, isn’t she? I can feel it like the freaking eye of Sauron.”
I look over and, sure enough, my dad and Julianne are watching us from their gourmet picnic spread with that beaming look they gave me at graduation. The same look they give Mitch at his wrestling matches.
Profound pride.
She says something, and Dad bursts out laughing. Despite his concern about me and Clara, he looks more relaxed than I’ve seen him in a long time.
And my injury, my academic probation, everything I’m keeping from him are the exact things that could ruin it. That could give him a literal fucking heart attack.
Kenji takes another sip, but Mitchell declines, since he’s driving and going for Legacy. “And reminder, my mom’s, like, right there,” he mutters.
But he doesn’t seem to be as concerned with our parents as he is with Logan, who he keeps stealing glances at.
I wonder what that’s about. Kenji notices, too, and drapes an arm around Mitchell’s shoulders, probably to get him to relax.
Though it seems to have the opposite effect, since Mitch goes quiet and flushed beside him.
I don’t usually drink. It fucks with my training, and I learned quickly that I’m a lightweight. Plus, I do stupid shit like what happened with Delaney.
But right now, I like the idea of forgetting about everything.
I reach for the “water” bottle and take a long sip.