Chapter Twelve
On Tuesday, on our way to the first festival committee meeting, I mumble, “Thank you.”
“For what?” Hannah asks, angling her body so that we can slip through a cluster of students taking up the hall.
“That night, at the creek,” I whisper.
“Um, you’re going to have to be more specific than that,” she says, her tone teasing.
We duck out of the after-school rush and into Mrs. Rubio’s classroom. Thankfully, it’s empty, so I have a few more minutes.
“That first night swim at Camp Refuge. You complimented me, told me I wasn’t fat, and convinced me to still go,” I remind her.
She nods in recognition. “Thank you,” I say again.
“And I’m sorry that I was so self-absorbed I didn’t even tell you that you looked great too.
I didn’t ask if you were feeling nervous—”
“I wasn’t.” She cuts me off. “Nervous, I mean. And you didn’t have to compliment me.”
I look past Hannah through the frame of Mrs. Rubio’s door at the river of students. Who knows how long we have before the festival committee members start showing up.
“Were you trying to flirt with me that night?” I ask. After realizing that I love Hannah, I started picking over some of the details of our relationship, trying to pinpoint exactly when the two rocks that sparked our fire officially collided for the first time.
“It wasn’t obvious?” She laughs a little.
“Like I said, self-absorbed.” I blush, realizing that she really did lay it all out there and I completely breezed past it.
“You have no idea what it was like,” she admits. I glance up at her, analyzing the emotions behind her eyes. “You in that bikini… then you went straight over to Jameson…”
“I’m sorry,” I blurt out, reflexively but also genuinely.
“Don’t apologize. It was the first time I realized that I wanted you for myself, and I was frustrated because it occurred to me as you were walking away, to him.”
“Hannah Banana!” Rowena shouts, leading a group of field hockey players into the classroom. “See, I told y’all I knew where I was going.”
I step back from Hannah, hyperaware of how close we were.
Rowena cuts through the dense air between us and immediately starts talking to Hannah about their coach’s approval for the delayed practices on committee days.
I lean against Mrs. Rubio’s desk and greet some of the field hockey players.
I try to let go of the night swim memory, of Hannah’s admission that this was the night when she realized she liked me.
Once we are all crammed into the room, every desk taken, and Mrs. Rubio is back at her desk with her fresh iced tea, at the ready to take down notes, Hannah takes the lead.
“Before we get started, I just want to say that my being the copresident is more of a formality. Clarity and I are both grateful that all of you are here to contribute to the committee, but Clarity has been doing this way longer than me. She is the real president, so I want to let her be in charge.”
She turns to look at me, giving me a smile and gesturing for me to go ahead.
“Thank you, Hannah. And, I just want to say, I’m grateful that you and your team have offered to be here. Without you, this year’s festivals wouldn’t be possible. Now, our first order of business is figuring out a new location—”
“Why can’t we use the location we’ve always used? I like Butterfly Field,” a voice interjects.
Everyone turns to face the doorway. Standing there, unexpected and—frankly—unwelcome, is Kristen.
“Ummm,” I say, processing an answer while simultaneously not panicking at the fact that Kristen is now in the same room as Hannah and me.
We agreed to be just friends, so there’s nothing for Kris to catch.
“I heard that it turned into a lake,” one of the field hockey girls says while I take a deep breath through my nose.
If she could read my mind, Kris would catch the way I keep picturing Hannah in her bathing suit…
“No, I think some developer bought the land,” Jonah, one of the veteran committee members, says.
Which is so not just-friends behavior…
“Actually,” Mrs. Rubio cuts in, “Metro Parks services intervened because after flooding over the summer, the land buckled and it’s not safe anymore.”
“Why don’t we take a short break,” I suggest, needing to escape my thoughts, this room. “Use the bathroom, get water, or snacks. We can meet back here in ten minutes!”
Hannah gives me a look, scrunching her brows together in confusion. But everyone else is all too happy to get up from their desks and file out of the room into the hall. Thank God.
Before Hannah can say anything, I grab Kristen by the wrist and yank her into the hallway with me.
“What are—” “Why is the—” “you doing—” “entire field hockey—” “here—” “team sitting in on your meeting?” We talk over each other.
“You first,” Kristen says.
“What are you still doing here? I mean, I thought you would’ve gone home by now or followed Vincent off a cliff.”
She rolls her eyes, catching my sarcasm. “Shut up. I was finishing a photography assignment.”
“Oh.”
“What’s up with the whole field hockey team sitting in on your meeting? And that girl standing up front like she’s head of the committee?”
“Well, they aren’t ‘sitting in.’ They’re part of the committee,” I admit, noticing Hannah step out of Mrs. Rubio’s classroom.
I pull Kristen farther down the hallway and duck into our corridor, out of view. When I look at her again, I see her eyebrows glued in place at the absolute top of her forehead.
“Hannah Fitzpatrick is my copresident. She was able to get the team to help out, and—because of that—we don’t have to shut down the club,” I explain.
“Hannah Fitzpatrick,” she grumbles, shaking her head.
“Yeah…”
“Troll,” Kristen huffs.
“What?”
“She gets a few stick-slinging ball jugglers to join your club and thinks she deserves to be a leader, up there with you?”
Not what I was expecting, but definitely something I can work with.
“Mrs. Rubio appointed her my copresident because she thinks it’ll help everyone mesh a little easier,” I say, feeling good that I can stand up for Hannah without it being a Camp Refuge relationship thing.
“Well, it still sucks. You worked your ass off for that position, and she just strolls in at the last second and takes half.”
“It’s okay,” I tell her.
And it’s true, because she’s more focused on Hannah as the bad guy than Hannah as my… girl. But I don’t necessarily want her to dislike Hannah…
“Actually,” I say as an idea materializes in my head, “I was thinking about inviting Hannah to the football game on Friday.” Kristen opens her mouth to speak, undoubtedly to object, so I quickly add, “It’ll give us a chance to get to know each other.
You know, we have the fall festival and the spring festival, which means we’re going to be working together all year.
This way, she and I can hang out and you can see for yourself that she’s not trying to hog the presidency. ”
Honestly, this plan is perfect. We get to hang out, Kristen will hopefully start to view Hannah as a friend, and I won’t have to be third wheel for the game. Plus, this will give Hannah and me a chance to prove we can be friends outside the committee. I smile at the thought of this ideal situation.
Kristen looks at me, peeks around the corner down the hall, and then back at me again.
“Does she have to come to the game this Friday? We could go to any other game together.”
“You’re bringing Vincent,” I remind her. “Now I won’t be a third wheel.”
“You could invite Jameson and make it a double date,” she offers.
If inviting Hannah wasn’t a huge relief, I might be worried about Kristen’s anti-Hannah desperation. “I told you already that I’m not trying to date right now.”
“Fine,” she relents, shaking her head. “But if I catch any vibes from her that she’s secretly plotting to take over your throne, I will stage an assassination of the tyrant.”
“I wouldn’t want any other plebeian to lead the rebellion,” I say, laughing a little. “But seriously, go home, or go make googly eyes at your boyfriend.”