Chapter 2
LENNON
Senior Year
T he coil of dread tightens in my stomach as soon as I hear his name called. When mine immediately follows, I miss a loop in the elaborate pattern I’m drawing.
I knew it was coming for the last four and a half minutes.
Mr. Tanner isn’t known for his innovation.
He prides himself on his predictability.
One doesn’t have to look any further than the course syllabus I’m currently doodling on.
It’s lined with title after title of revered, classic literature, no doubt copied directly from the state curriculum.
As soon as Mr. Tanner announced Ellie Nash would be working with Jillian Baker, I had a sinking suspicion who my partner would be.
I didn’t need to spend the past few minutes running through a list of the last names of everyone in this English class to come to the inevitable conclusion Mr. Tanner just announced.
But I did so anyway, hoping bad luck and I were finally parting ways.
“Lucky,” Cassie Belmont whispers from her desk next to me.
Since Cassie is the one person I consider to be an actual friend at this school, I don’t correct her assumption.
Good luck, for me, would be never having to see Caleb Winters again.
Being paired with him on an assignment that will determine a quarter of my English grade and require spending more time with him than the past three and a half years combined? The worst start to a new year I can imagine, and we’re only four days in.
It’s a sad testament to my lone friendship that Cassie isn’t aware of how much I hate Caleb, even considering she only started at Landry High last August. This is the only class I share with Landry’s golden boy this year. I’ve barely had to see Caleb, much less talk to him.
That made everything easier.
“I’m reserving the rest of class to begin discussing the project with your partners,” Mr. Tanner announces.
“Remember, this is worth twenty-five percent of your final grade in this course. This is a chance to finish strong, not to slack off because it’s your last semester of high school.
Please rearrange to sit with your assigned partners. ”
Cassie stands and heads to the front of the room. I don’t so much as shift in my chair. Partly because I’m hoping I somehow misheard Mr. Tanner, but mostly because I know I didn’t and I want to force Caleb to come to me. Petty as it is, he has enough handed to him.
The chair next to me scrapes against the floor. I resume my doodling in a hasty attempt to appear nonchalant.
“Happy New Year, Matthews.”
I grunt, focusing on my lopsided loops like they’re a puzzle that needs solving.
The chair squeaks. I stay focused on the paper, refusing to look at him. Mature, I am not.
“I hope you didn’t apply to any art schools.”
Caleb’s voice is closer than I’m expecting. Too close. I drop my pen and glance over at him. He’s leaned across the narrow aisle to study my doodles. And he’s actually looking, scrutinizing the drawing like there’s some hidden logic in the loops.
I flip the paper over and cross my arms, expecting him to move away.
He doesn’t.
Caleb shifts his attention from the paper to me, his blue eyes amused and bright. He’s proud of the dig at my artistic ability, I guess. Maybe it wouldn’t bother me, if I’d applied to any school.
When I say nothing in response, he doesn’t either.
We hold a silent stare-off, during which I unfortunately notice he got tan during the baseball team’s trip to Florida.
The only school sports team to go anywhere over winter break, and also the only school sports team Caleb Winters plays on.
Not much of a mystery how that trip was funded.
“Why don’t you request a change of partners?” I suggest.
“I’m good. At least I know you’ll do your part of the project.”
I scoff. “You mean both parts?”
Something shifts in Caleb’s expression, amusement and aloofness shifting into annoyance. “I mean your part. I do my own work, Matthews.”
“Just like the baseball team funded its own trip to Gainesville?”
Caleb finally leans back, picking up his pen and spinning it around his finger as he studies me with a mixture of irritation and incredulity. “I’m first in our class, Lennon.”
“No, you’re not.”
“Yes, I am.”
There’s a slow, sinking sensation in my stomach. “Fall grades haven’t even come out yet.”
“They were released last night.”
Absurdly, my eyes start to sting. I bite the inside of my cheek and reach down to pull my water bottle out of my backpack. I haven’t cried since my father’s funeral. I won’t cry now . Here . In front of him .
Unlike most of Landry High’s senior class, I won’t be attending an elite college this fall.
I haven’t worked twice as hard as everyone else so I could get into a university with a single digit acceptance rate.
The truth is, I probably could. But I already have a full-time job waiting for me after graduation, taking care of Matthews Farm. Looking after my grandfather.
I thought I’d have the satisfaction of everyone knowing I chose that path. Knowing that I had other options. When all of my classmates leave for their shiny futures, I figured I would know I’d beaten them all in one way.
Of course, Caleb Winters would be the one to ruin that, too.
And he realizes it.
“You were first, weren’t you?”
I take a long drink of water, ignoring him.
“That’s the only reason you’d care what my ranking is.”
“Drop it, Winters,” I grit out, growing increasingly incensed.
He grins, showing off the star pitcher smile that I’ve seen rob many girls of speech. And their senses. “Well, between the two of us, we should manage to get a decent grade on this.”
“I’ll do the whole project and you can take half the credit. How does that sound?”
“We took the same classes, with the same teachers, and I did better than you did last semester. You’re seriously going to act like I’m going to mess this up for you?” He raises one eyebrow, still spinning the damn pen. I’m tempted to snatch it from him.
Caleb handicapping this project is not what I’m worried about, not that I’d ever admit it to him. Whoever came up with the dumb jock stereotype never met Caleb Winters. I didn’t need to know his class ranking to think he’s smart.
Honestly, he’s the only classmate who’s challenged me in every class we’ve shared.
Landry’s wealthy inhabitants ensure it’s consistently considered the best school district in the state.
But it churns out perfect test scores and elite college acceptances by ensuring its students are prepared, not by handing out easy A’s.
Not wanting to partner on this project with Caleb has nothing to do his academic ability and everything to do with the way he throws me off-kilter. I find him interesting, and it irritates me.
“Have you two decided on your book and topics?” Mr. Tanner appears, glancing between me and Caleb.
I don’t think it’s a coincidence we’re the pairing he chose to check in with first.
“We’re still discussing,” Caleb answers.
Mr. Tanner looks between us again, then nods. “All right.”
I blow out a long breath as soon as he moves on, tempted to start doodling again.
Anything to help ignore Caleb’s presence.
He’s too much. Too close and too attentive.
I can smell him, but it’s not the overpowering cologne too many guys wear.
It’s something more subtle that makes me want to lean closer.
I resist the urge.
“I fully intend to do half the project, so we’re going to need to agree on a book,” Caleb says.
“Fine.”
“Any ideas?”
“ Moby Dick ?” I challenge.
Caleb rolls his eyes. “Pass.”
“ Great Expectations ?”
“You’re joking.”
“ Crime and Punishment ?”
“Your suggestions are punishment enough,” Caleb drawls.
“I don’t hear you coming up with anything.”
“What about Frankenstein ?”
“I don’t like horror.”
“It’s not horror; it’s a classic,” Caleb argues.
“Just because it’s on the reading list?”
The bell rings, shrill and loud.
“Outlines detailing the book you chose and the three literary devices you’ll be analyzing are due next class,” Mr. Tanner calls out. “One outline per group. See you tomorrow.”
The classroom erupts in commotion. Students scramble to return to their belongings.
Only four minutes separate each period, making it impossible to linger without receiving a tardy slip.
Not that I need any incentive to get as far away from Caleb Winters as possible.
And thanks to the fact I’m one of the few who stayed in their original seat, all I have to do is shove my binder back into my backpack and rush out the door.
My hasty departure is tracked by a few questioning glances, but the only one I acknowledge is Cassie’s.
“See you at lunch,” I tell Cassie as I pass her by on my way out. My next class is Calculus, and the math wing is on the opposite side of the building.
By the time Calculus ends, I’ve almost managed to forget my conversation with Caleb.
The first of the new year. And thanks to Mr. Tanner, definitely not the last. For attending a high school as small as Landry High, I’ve managed to do a surprisingly good job of avoiding Caleb for the past three and a half years. Up until now, apparently.
Rather than head straight to the cafeteria when the lunch bell rings, I turn in the direction of the library.
I spent every lunch period as a freshman, sophomore, and junior among the stacks of books.
It allowed me time to perfect assignments my chores rushed me through, with the added bonus of avoiding sitting alone in the cafeteria.
Cassie asked if she could sit with me at lunch the first day of senior year, her first day at Landry High, and I couldn’t bring myself to tell her no. Or admit I’d spent the past three years eating alone in the library.
Starting at a new school is never ideal, but in Landry? Almost everyone can trace their family back for generations.