Chapter 5 #2
Does she not really care about school or grades? I mean, technically she doesn’t need a degree to run her youth center. Is this all just fun and games for her?
Her dad left her money when he died—that’s how she said she bought her studio—so maybe she’s not worried about the thousands it costs to be here.
I shake my head, taking a deep breath when an entirely new wave of thoughts assaults me.
What if she was rushing here, and she got in an accident? She could be alone and hurt somewhere.
I tense, my pulse jumping and fingers twitching to pull my phone out and make sure she’s all right. She wouldn’t risk missing a test, even if I was thinking like a judgmental asshole five seconds ago.
The air leaves my lungs in frustration as Professor Michaels approaches my row, passing out the testing packets. He continues down the line, and I slip my phone out, pulling up the message thread that the girls created for our friend group a while ago.
Why haven’t I programmed her number in yet?
I find it, copy, and quickly go add it to my contacts.
“You have all of class period to finish today’s exam,” Professor Michaels’s voice booms, and I shove my phone between my legs.
“When you are finished, please place the packets on my desk, your Scantrons in this basket, and the written portion in this one.” He motions to the setup he has near the board.
“There will be no talking, no phones, and when you are done, I expect a silent retreat. There will be no retakes, so don’t rush and assume you will be awarded a second opportunity.
You will not.” His eyes scan over the class, pausing and narrowing on the seat beside me.
Usually, I’d say most professors don’t notice when students are missing, especially in large lecture classes of a hundred-plus students such as this one, but Paige has drawn attention to herself with her repeated late arrivals. Makes sense he would take note of her absence.
“Begin,” he says, and all that can be heard is the flipping of paper as people get right to it.
I do the same, but my knee won’t stop bouncing and my mind continues to race.
She’s fine. This is pretty much normal, her being late; only today she won’t be able to slip in.
The doors are locked.
You won’t know if she’s all right if you don’t ask.
I swallow and force myself to focus.
One page.
Two pages.
Five pages, and my head is about to explode.
I have to know.
One peek at the clock and I see we’re thirty-five minutes in.
Focus, Chase.
Chewing my lip, I reread the question, managing to get through all of the multiple choice. I set my Scantron aside and flip to the final page, reading over the instructions for the written portion.
Two options.
I scan option one, and sit up a little straighter. I fucking know this.
This is straight from the passage I focused on this morning, just hoping I managed to choose right.
I smile at the page, excited by how clear the information is in my head.
I put pen to paper, determined to get a near perfect score on this section at least.
My thoughts and explanation pour out of me. I’m halfway through all the beats of the breakdown he asked for when a few people stand, making their way toward the front of the room.
They turn in their papers and head for the door, and I lock onto the exit.
They weave out and no little hand wraps around the frame, attempting to slip in. No one stands just outside, peeking in.
Shit, what if she never did make it?
She could be stranded somewhere, alone.
My eyes snap to Professor Michaels, and I slip my phone from between my thighs.
I hold my breath, my anxiety spiking as I type as quickly as possible, gaze snapping back and forth from the front of the room to my phone. The moment I hit Send, some of the tension leaves me and I lower the phone back between my thighs.
There, now I—
“Your exam, young man.”
My head yanks up, along with every other, to find Professor Michaels standing at the end of my aisle, his hand outstretched. Everyone has paused to stare, their gazes slicing from him to me.
“I said no books and no phones. I hope you finished your exam because your time is up.” Instantly, my skin starts to heat.
“Sir—”
“Please grab your things and make your exit as quietly as possible.”
Fuck.
Shit.
All I can do is listen, my phone vibrating in my back pocket the moment I slide it in there.
Descending the steps with my head hanging, I make my way to his desk, depositing my things and my half-finished essay—a surefire fucking F.
“You’re on the football team, correct, Mister”—he looks to my Scantron—“Harper?”
“Yes, sir,” I answer quietly, hoping this might be one of those time the privileges often given to athletes come through.
It’s not.
Professor Michaels shakes his head, turning back to his computer screen with a single muttered word. “Shame.”
Shame is fucking right.
I’m out the door and in the hall in seconds. Shaking my head, I burst out the double doors and out into the afternoon sun. “Fuck!” I can’t help but shout.
“Hey!”
I jolt, whipping around a moment later, and there’s Paige, sitting with her legs tucked under her on the grass, a tea and cookie in her hands.
My jaw clenches, and I spin around, hurrying away before I say something I shouldn’t.
“Chase!” she calls. “Hey, hang on a second.”
My feet move faster, but as I round the corner of the building, she catches my arm, jumping in front of me.
My hands shoot out, catching her around the ribs so she doesn’t tumble backward.
We both trip, but I manage to steady us before we fall.
Letting her go, I take a step away, staring at nothing over her head while I try to chill myself out, but panic is building in my chest at a swift pace.
I’m going to fail that exam, and when Coach gets our grades reported in a few short weeks, I’ll be screwed. Can they take my scholarship away mid-season?
Can he bench me for one bad grade?
Fuck, what if Professor Michaels—
“Are you okay?” Paige whispers, her voice soft.
I laugh, but there is nothing humorous about it, and my back falls against the wall.
“No, Paige, I’m not okay. I just got kicked out of class, and Professor Michaels is probably going to tell my coach I got caught cheating on the fucking test and I’m going to lose my last chance and—” I cut myself off, not having meant to say so much, and lock eyes with her.
“Sorry. I’m sorry. Just…I gotta go, all right?
” I try to sidestep her, but she blocks my path.
Paige tips her head, and then she slowly shakes it. “No, not all right.”
I frown at the girl.
“Don’t take this the wrong way,” she begins. “But you’re really bad at having friends.”
A laugh sputters out of me, and I find myself giving her a grin—if only a small one. “Oh yeah?”
She nods, her smile playful if not a little sad.
I stare down at the blue-eyed, blond-haired, little doll, and I don’t know why, but the words pour out of me.
“I’m screwed, Paige. Royally screwed. I’m in a bad spot, and because of that, I can’t get so much as a C on any one assignment, let alone any disciplinary actions, or I risk losing everything, and I mean everything. ”
She frowns slightly. “You think you’ll be punished for cheating?”
“No. Shit, I don’t know.” I sigh, not wanting to make her feel bad, but admit, “I wasn’t cheating, but I did have my phone out when I knew the rule against them.
He saw it and I didn’t exactly stick around to argue, but he let me turn in what I had finished, so I think that means he knows I wasn’t cheating. ”
Realization dawns, and misplaced guilt tightens her features. “Your text. You were checking on me and he caught you. Chase, I’m—”
“Do not say sorry right now, Paige.” A heavy, chuckled exhale leaves me.
“This is in no way on you. I worked myself up, let myself get worried when I should have just waited until I was finished. It’s just Ari had her accident freshman year, and Cam crashed her dad’s truck over the summer, so I…
” I take a deep breath, meeting her gaze.
“I’ve got a lot going on right now, and my head’s all over the place.
I can’t sleep, and every thought that goes through my mind is drowned out by a negative one. ”
Her blue eyes soften, and I’m not sure what she’s about to say, but she surprises me.
“I went to this wellness camp once in the tenth grade. Only because I was trying to set my dad up with this lady that opened a coffee shop down the road from our house. I volunteered to be a helper, planning on it being my dad, only to find out later it was a women-only camp. I spent thirteen days honoring trees and flowers with nothing but a cold river to shower in.”
Despite the stress coiling in my gut, a laugh leaves me, and Paige smiles in response. “Sounds fascinating,” I respond, not sure where she’s going with this.
“Yeah. But do you know what I gained out of that trip, other than a profound appreciation for warm running water?” She lifts her chin proudly. “You’re looking at a Certified Negativity Exorcist.”
I turn so one shoulder is leaning against the building and look down at her as I fight a grin. “Impressive.”
“It is. I quite literally have a certificate and everything. And do you know what a Certified Negativity Exorcist does?”
My lips pull up on one side, and I can’t look away.
“It means I am the perfect person to help you.”
I want to tell her it’s impossible, but I don’t have the heart. “And how are you planning to do that?”
“Meet me on the practice field at seven tomorrow if you want to find out.” She turns and starts to walk away.
“Wait, seven a.m. or seven p.m.?”
Paige whirls, beaming up at me as she shuffles backward across the grass, but she doesn’t answer. She just winks, and it shouldn’t be so damn adorable. She spins again, shouting out, “See you later, Trouble!”
Trouble, huh?
I push off the wall, my mouth opening, but I force it closed. I watch her go, a bit overcome with the unexpected urge to follow.