Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
What will Braden do for Halloween? He’s in college, so it’s pretty much a guarantee that he’ll be at a party. Hopefully Tricia won’t be there. Whatever he does, he’ll do it without me—and the thought stings, because a Halloween without him barely exists in my memory.
At the end of class, our graded tests are passed out, face down. My teeth catch my lower lip as I grip the crisp paper like it’s a ticking bomb. On an exhale I flip it over, my heart immediately sinking when I see a giant ‘D’ scrawled across the top of the paper in thick, blood-red ink.
How is this possible? I studied for hours… though clearly not enough. Or maybe it’s because Braden isn’t here, my dependable study buddy. He’s always been better at math than me, but he never made me feel like I was dragging him down when he spent a little extra time helping me with assignments.
After quickly flipping the paper back over, I glance around the room and see that no one else seems to be falling into a bad-grade-induced crisis, which is extra humiliating.
Did everyone in class score higher than me?
Jake’s concerned gaze catches my eye. His eyebrows pull together as he looks at me, then one arches in question.
I turn away and stuff the horrid test into my backpack, where it can hopefully disappear and never emerge into the light again.
There must be a quick way to counteract this blow to my GPA.
Ask for extra credit now? Drop Calculus?
No, that’s impossible—MIT will definitely expect to see this class on my transcript.
The ideal solution is to ace the class to help ensure my place at the top of my class.
Ugh, what a mess! I take a breath that's supposed to be calming but isn't. I need to stick to the plan, even if it needs to change slightly, such as booking more study time for calculus than initially anticipated. Maybe Braden could FaceTime with me for some extra help.
The bell rings, but it barely registers.
My mind whirls over my new, altered reality.
Just when I was feeling like my goals were coming together, another curveball gets thrown my way.
It’s possible I need to check in with my counselor to see exactly what my grades need to be this semester to secure the valedictorian slot.
Or I could build a time machine and fix this unexpected setback. Very practical.
Jake falls in step beside me and tugs on my braid gently to get my attention. “Hey, Rapunzel. How’d you do on the test?”
“Are you a puppy looking for a new owner? Because you literally follow me everywhere.”
For reasons beyond my ability to fathom, Jake finds this amusing. He laughs.
“Most girls would be flattered to have the star hockey player following them.”
“Considering I pay zero attention to the hockey team, I have no idea who ‘the star’ player is, nor do I care. Don’t you have a girlfriend or something? You did last year. Maybe you should go find her.”
Jake drapes a loose arm around my shoulders as we continue down the locker-lined hallway.
Kids are blurs of blue and gold plaid as they make their way to their next period class, the steady hum of school life echoes off the walls.
Remembering my earlier resolution, I shrug his arm off.
If my brush-off bothers him, he doesn’t show it.
“Keeping track of my dating life, Aves? Now I am flattered.” He pauses a beat. “Let’s study together for the next test, yeah?”
Before I can answer, screams worthy of a horror movie echo throughout the entire hallway. It’s so shrill, my hands automatically fly up to cover my ears, half expecting a banshee to appear.
“What is that?”
Jake, who is much taller than me, spots what’s happening. “Oh, man. It’s a chick fight! Two girls are going at it.”
He grabs hold of my hand and weaves us through the clumps of people in the hall like he’s done this a hundred times.
Or maybe this is a skill all hockey players develop.
The screaming gets louder as we push closer.
I jump back when one girl gets a vicious fistful of the other’s hair and yanks, like she’s trying to rip it out by the roots.
They’re both shrieking and swearing, clawing at each other’s clothes.
In all my years at Valley Prep, I’ve never seen anything like this.
Seconds later, teachers rush in and pry them apart, hauling them toward the office. I barely recognize either girl, so I have no clue what set this off. No doubt one or both will be suspended. Possibly even expelled.
Dan, my least favorite swim class attendee, is standing nearby with a dopey grin. This seems to be a common expression for him.
“Hey, man, what was that all about?” Jake asks Dan.
Dan turns to Jake, grin still glued in place. The high of seeing two girls slapping and wrestling on one another in the middle of the school hallway is stamped all over his face. I roll my eyes.
“Bro—that was nuts. Natasha is dating Ben, but she’s also BFFs with Sarah.
But like, Sarah was matched with Ben on Connection Services and they’ve been messaging non-stop, and apparently told each other their real names.
Natasha found out about it from overhearing Sarah tell someone else and went ballistic. ”
My nose crinkles at the absurdity—and at his complete inability to form a coherent sentence. Not that more was expected after our moment at Jenna and Jake’s birthday party.
“That’s ridiculous, Sam,” I say, emphasizing the fact that I just called him by the wrong name. Is it a bit petty? Sure. No regrets though. “Connection Services is anonymous, so it’s not like Sarah and Ben chose to be matched. Natasha should have realized that.”
Dan gives me a confused look. “Why did you call me Sam? I’m Dan, Annie.” Then he shrugs and continues, addressing Jake instead of me. “Girls be trippin.’ You know how it is.”
Clearly Dan doesn’t understand the unspoken jab I just took with his name, and he still can’t remember my name! He quit swim class a week ago due to his ankle healing, so maybe the entire situation has already been wiped from his limited mental space.
Jake gets it though. He smirks and gives me a tiny, chiding head shake. Then he turns to Dan and nods his head gravely, as if he understands the meaning behind Dan’s statement. “Totally, man.” Then he leads me away down the hallway.
“‘Girls be trippin’? Please tell me Dan isn’t a close friend of yours. My inner feminist can’t accept that. It’s staging a protest as we speak. Plus he can’t remember my name, which I can’t get over.”
We arrive at my locker and Jake turns to me, reaching out to run my braid through his hand. It’s so unexpected that it’s over before I can even think about knocking his hand away.
“With guys like Dan, it’s better to smile and nod.
I honestly have no idea what he’s talking about most of the time.
But enough about Dan,” he says while leaning in a bit closer, his minty breath invading my personal space.
The sounds of the students in the hallway fade away as I look up at Jake and notice that he has a light stubble growing on his jawline.
Is he even old enough to have that? It’s one of the many things that have made me realize Jake isn’t a boy anymore.
“You coming to the Halloween party? I know Jenna mentioned it to you.”
I shake my head. “Can’t. I’m on little brother duty that night.”
Jake’s lips thin in disappointment, but in true Jake form, he pivots fast. “So… want to meet up tonight and do some calc homework together?”
While I rearrange my books in my locker, the picture of Braden and me catches my eye—taped inside eight weeks ago, at the start of the school year.
Was it really that recent, hugging him one last time before he flew off to college?
We were close for so long, and now it feels like we might as well be on separate planets.
He used to hop over my backyard wall to do homework with me almost every day. I miss that. I miss him.
But he’s gone. And maybe hanging out with boyfriend-stealers like Tricia. Plus, he’s left me to struggle through calculus alone.
With a sharp slam of metal, the locker door shuts. I smile up at Jake. My calculus grade is on life support, and I’m doing nothing wrong by finding a new study buddy, as long as physical boundaries are maintained.
“Sure. Is seven at my house ok?”
“You look nice. Are you going somewhere?” my mom asks. She is wearing threadbare sweats and eating cold cereal at the counter. Her spoon clinks against the ceramic bowl in the otherwise quiet kitchen.
I love my mom. She can triage emergencies and make life-or-death calls for twelve hours straight, then come home and eat cereal in ratty sweats like it’s a reward. Dad’s occasional guilt trips don’t stand a chance. She’s strong and stubborn and basically my blueprint for life.
I look down at my outfit and frown. Sure, I tried on three different outfits, but it’s because of comfort, not appearance.
And yes, I brushed out my long hair and tested out a braided-crown style I’d seen on Instagram.
It took forever and my arms burned like I was training for Olympic-level heavy lifting.
But I only did that because I’d had the idea saved for a while and conveniently had time this afternoon to try it. That’s all.
“Uh, no, not going anywhere.” I wander closer to the counter and grab an apple to slice. “Jake is coming over to do some calculus homework together soon though.”
My mom’s eyebrows shoot up. “Oh? Jake who?”
“Jake Jake. You know—Jake Taylor.”
“Huh.” She takes a couple more bites of cereal, her ‘huh’ echoing with an air of intrigue and judgment.
Doing math with Jake doesn’t mean anything. The red ‘D’ flashes behind my eyelids. I need help, and Braden’s across the country.
“Anyway, I wanted to grab a couple snacks and take them upstairs.”
My mom nods and goes back to scrolling through her phone as she munches on the fresh bowl of bran flakes she just poured.
I open the cabinet and grab some crackers to go with some sliced cheese.
After rooting around for more options, I grab some grapes and throw them on the plate, along with the apple slices.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” my mom mutters, more to herself than to me.
“What?” I ask while changing the plate arrangement for the third time. Should the crackers be in a straight line? Or maybe in a circle around the edge, with the cheese and grapes inside, like a snack fortress?
“Oh, nothing.”
I turn around and peek at her phone over her shoulder.
An Instagram post of my dad fills the screen.
He’s on the movie set in Australia, and he’s smiling at the camera with an arm around a young woman with glossy lips and flawless hair.
She’s the star of the movie, presumably.
They certainly look… friendly. Perhaps too friendly.
Candy girl. Is Mom still Dad’s candy girl? My hand settles on her shoulder, giving it a small squeeze. No words come, so the gesture has to do the talking.
She quickly swipes the app closed and shrugs. Whatever she’s trying to hide still leaks through—there’s a slight quiver in her voice. “I’m glad his career is everything he ever wanted. Anyway,” she clears her throat, “I hope your study session goes well, Avery.”
After placing her bowl in the dishwasher, she gives me a tight smile and joins Hunter in the living room.
As I finish arranging the snack plate and grab a couple water bottles from the fridge, I can’t keep my mind off my parents.
They do love each other—an annoying amount, actually.
When they’re together, they’re amazing: loving, fun, fully there.
But what are two people supposed to do when their careers pull them in opposite directions?
What happens when one person gives up their goals and pretends it’s fine, until the bitterness stacks up year after year and finally bursts like a dam?
Digging into the details of their relationship isn’t my job, but the logic of their current choices makes sense.
Let things breathe. Focus on their own careers.
Don’t let resentment build. Maybe their love survives if neither of them forces the other to sacrifice too much.
But Hunter and I don’t get that option. Dad’s absence is hard, especially for him.
The doorbell yanks me out of it. Jake’s here.