Chapter 40
FORTY
Sara
Above us, the night sky is full of twinkling stars that poke against its dark contrast. Students weave around us, racing toward a booth that offers a cornhole game.
I slide my hands into the pocket of my camel-colored cardigan, and tuck them into balls to keep them warm.
The temperature’s dipped only slightly, but it’s enough to send a slight chill through me.
Oliver and I have been speed walking in silence for at least a minute. He’s let me take the lead, following along behind me as I scan the crowd, hoping to find Joe’s tall head among the sea of bodies.
“So you’re not going to tell me what this whole bet thing is about?”
No, Subwayboy, I won’t. Because—ack! How did I lose track of time?
It had felt like we’d gone back and forth over our personal music taste for ten minutes, but that somehow had morphed into two hours.
Two! I hadn’t even realized we’d been chatting for so long, but it’d felt .
. . effortless? The opposite of how I feel every time I have to do math in his presence, really. Dare I say fun?
I had no idea Oliver knew so much about music and chord progressions and random facts about Metallica and the Eagles, and I think I surprised him with how many Led Zeppelin songs I’m familiar with. At one point we’d both even played the air guitar. Together.
Is this the twilight zone?
“It’s embarrassing,” I admit, staring straight ahead. “So, no.”
Oliver lets out an aggravated breath and shoves his hands into his jacket pockets. “Then how am I supposed to help you?”
“Why are you so persistent about this?” I counter. “I never even asked for your help. Besides, it’s not something you can help me out with, exactly.”
“What, you have to find another random stranger to kiss?”
My blush deepens. “Of course not.”
Not a stranger, I think, just your brother.
“There you are!”
Oliver and I swivel around to find Rose jogging over to us.
“I’ve been looking all over for you,” she continues, slightly out of breath. “Why did you guys leave the booth? I need—”
“No, Rose,” I say firmly, finally growing that backbone I needed all along. “I’m not going back to sit in the booth. The festival’s practically over. You said you’d switch with us and you never did.”
“I don’t care about that. Actually, I don’t need you at the booth.” Her eyes land on the massive school lurking behind us. “I need you two to—uh, get more pamphlets from the classroom!”
“What?” I splutter. “Rose, there are zillions at the booth already.”
“Just hurry up,” she orders. “This is the most crucial time of the festival. We have to give them out before everyone goes home.”
Oliver looks to the sky and releases a massive sigh. I don’t blame him. I’m over her too.
“That doesn’t even make any sense, Rose,” I argue.
“Whatever, let’s just go.” Oliver places his hands on my back, moving us away from the festival and heading toward the paved pathway that leads back to the school.
I meet him with resistance. “But—”
“She’s not going to change her mind,” Oliver mutters in my ear as Rose watches us leave, a smug smile toying on her lips. “May as well be quick so we can get back to—whatever you’re doing.”
This is a disaster. Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine I’d mess tonight up this badly. I spent exactly zero minutes with Joe during the festival, and now I’m about to lose this bet because I’m on a hunt for stupid pamphlets.
But I allow Oliver to guide me inside, because what else can I do?
It’s quiet once we enter the building. I don’t think I’ve ever been at school this late, and it feels weird, like I’ve stepped into the bathtub with shoes on. Most of the fluorescents are turned off, but we don’t have to worry, because the windows invite in light from the lampposts right outside.
Oliver leads us up the stairs to Mrs. Huber’s classroom. She teaches all the journalism classes and keeps excess materials stored inside. It’s also where Newspaper Club meets.
“I still think this makes zero sense,” I mutter as we climb.
“Rose is gonna do what Rose wants,” Oliver says. “Anyway, maybe if you told me what you have to do, I’d be able to help you.”
“Just forget it. What’s the point?”
Oliver reaches the landing first and waits for me to catch up. Once I do, we start down the hall.
“I can’t do it anymore,” I continue. “There’s no time left.
Rose ruined everything, just like Lulu predicted.
I didn’t listen to anything she said, and now it’s too late.
Besides, I couldn’t go through with it, anyway.
It was hard enough with a stranger. Stupid of me to think I’d be brave enough to go for it with someone I have a crush on. ”
Oliver, who’s been walking several steps ahead of me this whole time, turns around. “So you’re . . . doing another kiss bet?”
We reach the classroom, and he holds the door open for me. I step inside to avoid answering, but when he comes in after me, it’s clear he’s waiting for me to reply.
“Uh,” I say. “Maybe?”
“And if you don’t do it,” he continues, piecing everything together, “you have to quit Newspaper Club.”
“Agh—yes, okay? That’s it.” I turn toward the boxes of pamphlets stacked on Mrs. Huber’s desk. “It sounds stupid when you put it like that.”
“That’s because it is stupid.” Oliver gives me one of his signature judgmental stares from behind his glasses. “Why do you keep making these kiss bets? Just get a boyfriend like every other girl.”
Um, hello? Has he met me? What, does he think that I’m turning down guys left and right? I’m not perfect Rose with great hair and fantastic people skills. I mean, she could hold a conversation with a rock and make it seem cool and interesting.
Heat rushes up my neck and sinks into my cheeks. “I know it’s dumb, okay? It doesn’t matter anymore, anyway. I already lost because I’m up here with you instead of—”
“Okay, hear me out,” Oliver interrupts. “Is it that bad if you lose and have to quit? It might be better that way, right? So you can focus on your grades?” He paws through the boxes, slapping stacks of pamphlets on the desk.
“And aren’t you going to start taking your college entrance exams soon, anyway? ”
I run a hand though my hair. “Yeah, but that’s beside the point.”
“It’s not beside the point, Sara Lin.” He looks at me now, those green eyes tangling with mine.
“There are more important things than having your first kiss right this second. You should worry about things like college entrance exams and passing calculus. I mean, you’ve been wasting time focusing on Newspaper Club instead of tutoring, and it’s affecting your grades. ”
I cast my gaze to the ground, staring at the cute boots I’d picked out especially for tonight.
Proof of what he’s saying. And he’s right.
He’s been right this whole time, from the very first conversation we had about my priorities.
I’ve been so consumed by my crush on Joe that it’s all I’ve been fixated on.
I haven’t done a single thing for Newspaper Club tonight. I can’t write an article from nothing.
“But I mean—it’s not the end of the world.
” He must sense I’m upset because his voice turns softer.
Kinder. “I can always tutor you again even if you lose the bet, unless you really wanna stay in the club and make time for both. I’m sure Patrick would understand and let the whole thing go.
It’s not like it’s a legally binding contract or anything. ”
“No, you’re right. I should just focus on tutoring,” I say, letting that dejected feeling spread through me.
“It’s for the best. I wanted to join newspaper for the wrong reasons at first, anyway.
I mostly did it to impress your brother, but he didn’t even notice me.
And why would he? I’m a mess and a terrible writer. ”
“No—that’s not what I said,” Oliver says, confusion blanketing his face. “You’re not getting the point.”
Suddenly, a voice booms from down the hall. “Here! This one’s the journalism classroom. I’d love to show you—”
Oliver and I look at each other. My heart thuds frantically. Joe? What in the world is he doing here? And—oh no. He must be with someone if he’s talking to them. But who?
It doesn’t matter. I’ve got to disappear, pronto! Because I’m more confused than ever, and I can’t face Joe if I don’t even know what I want at this point. It doesn’t make me a chicken if I need more time, I decide.
“It’s your brother,” I say. “He’s coming. Quick, hide!”
His brows furrow. “Why?”
But before he can protest further, I tug him behind Mrs. Huber’s single pedestal desk and yank him to the floor, forcing him to crouch beneath the surface with me.
The three walls block us from view, like a cramped fortress. Our shoulders bump as we adjust to the tight space. He opens his mouth as if to chastise me, but I slap a hand over it to muffle whatever he’s going to say.
And then two sets of footsteps enter the classroom.