Chapter 9 Sabrina
My planner is absolutely ruined from my overthinking. Page after page of scribbles, trying to untangle the mess in my brain, spilling onto my week one homework list, and then onto the page I set up for tracking homecoming fundraising.
Tyler Holloway is Ryan’s cousin??? weaves, in various permutations, across it all.
I sigh, turning to a new page. I don’t have time for this!
After the news about the gym renovations, I really need to get working on alternate venues.
We already had plans for a balloon arch that fit perfectly in the space, and that was a huge investment of funds—I wonder if the balloon place gives refunds?
Who knows which of the downtown businesses actually has space; and depending on the price of their rental fees and deposits, we’re going to need to raise somewhere between a truckload and a shit-ton of extra money.
How much can the annual car wash put away?
I slam the notebook closed and toss it in my backpack. None of my plans for the start of school are working out. I should renounce my title as president of the Spirit Committee. More like queen of overthinking.
His cousin?!
But the final alarm on my phone is going off, reminding me it’s my last last chance to get to school on time, and that’s enough self-pity and worry. I have a school day to dominate.
I turn off my sunrise lamp, adjust the throw pillows on my bed one last time, and breeze out the door and downstairs.
Mom’s already gone, of course, but there’s a note propped against the matcha she made me before she left.
(She’s all about the matcha vs. coffee debate right now, and she’s done the medical research to back it up.) I stir up the drink to dislodge the sediment from the bottom while I read her neat cursive:
Do not take life too seriously. You will never get out of it alive.
I snort and fold it into the back pocket of my jeans.
I don’t resent how busy she is—she went back to get her nursing degree when I was in middle school and rose up to head RN by the time I was a junior, and she’s honestly an icon for it.
I know she hates that Dad’s gone and she’s not around as much as she’d like to be, but I’m going to be gone next year, anyway.
It’s a good time to figure out how to be a bit more independent.
I don’t mind doing my own grocery shopping and cooking and laundry.
It’s the other stuff that wears on me—the mediating, the pretending I don’t notice all the Nicholas Sparks books she’s reading, the smiling conversations that don’t reach anywhere near the dark underbelly of everything we’re really feeling this year.
I reread the quote as I head to the car. Do not take life too seriously.
I’m trying. But this homecoming situation is testing the one place that still feels anywhere close to carefree.
On the one hand, I don’t owe Ryan anything. I like being his friend and never wanted anything more. It’s none of his business who I go to homecoming with—even if it’s his cousin.
The reminder of pulling up to his house yesterday hits me like a fresh punch to the gut, and I wince all over again.
I can’t do that to Ryan. The idea of hurting his feelings and making him—and by extension, half the Hamilton Lakes athletic department—mad at me turns my stomach.
I do not need that kind of trouble this year.
I can’t throw off the delicate balance of the Hamilton Lakes social sphere, the one place that still feels like home.
I should have told Tyler things with Ryan were weird as soon as we pulled up to the Thompsons’, but the prospect of that awkward conversation put me straight into fight-or-flight mode.
I screeched away from the curb fast enough to break the sound barrier.
I don’t have any reason to think Tyler would overreact—we’re just friends, and he’s been cool so far—but I can’t help the sour anxiety that rises in my throat at even the vague possibility of a confrontation.
I’ve had enough of those for a lifetime.
The quiet morning streets of Hamilton Lakes roll past my window, and all I want is to enjoy them in the months to come—the Halloween dog parade, and long nights closing down the diner with my friends, and shopping the holiday craft fair to look for gifts for my parents.
Soaking in every last tradition and detail that I’m about to say goodbye to.
The last thing I want is drama, and the whole reason I asked Tyler in the first place was to shield us both from it. But going to homecoming with Ryan’s cousin is surely going to cause its fair share of rumors, even if I tell him we’re just going as friends.
Because will he even believe that? And if he doesn’t, is it worth the risk?
I shake my head decisively. Definitely not.
Time to focus on the problems I have control over. So, I power walk to the athletics office and rap on the doorframe. “Good morning, Mr. Lewis!”
The Spirit Committee adviser takes one look at my face and grabs his thermos of coffee. Once he’s taken a giant swig, he says, “What can I do for you, Sabrina?”
That man should really try matcha. I swipe open my phone and straighten up, once again projecting the Sabrina who has it all together. “I wanted to check in about the homecoming location. You got the email about the gym?”
He nods. “I was going to ask you to swing by sometime this week—”
“And here I am! So, no need!” I beam. “I started a list of possible alternate locations last night and wanted to run them past you. See if you had any other ideas. We should take advantage of this to really do something extraordinary—have the dance in a location that’s never been seen before!
I’m thinking libraries, and concert halls, and—”
“Sabrina.” Mr. Lewis holds up a hand. “All of those are great ideas. But I need you to understand how much this is going to raise the budget this year. Securing a venue is going to cost a lot more money than usual. Can you really bite that much off?”
“Don’t worry, already on my radar! No problem!” Though I have to admit, I didn’t get far enough in this morning’s freak-out to actually solve the problem. An off-campus venue means a lot of spirit bracelets.
He surveys me carefully. “If you’re sure. Keep me posted on your progress, okay? And I’ll ask around for possible sponsors.”
I nod. “Thank you! Just wait—it’s going to be great!”
As soon as I retreat, though, I’m digging in my bag for my planner. He’s right: This is going to take even more work than I thought. Tyler’s ideas were really good—but can we pull them off?
“Sabrina!” Naomi bounds over, phone in hand. “I was hoping to catch you!”
I give her a quick hug, shoving my own thoughts to the side. “What’s up? Everything okay with the pep rally?”
“Oh, sure, sure.” She holds up her phone, and I glimpse a text from Priya. Not on the group chat. I frown. “Sooo, Priya said she saw you giving Tyler a ride home yesterday? True or false?”
I curse the Hamilton Lakes gossip mill. “True. But just because he was stranded, and we ran into each other, and he was helping with my posters—” I’m babbling, overexplaining. I snap my mouth shut and fix a breezy smile on my face. “He’s my new-student buddy. It wasn’t a big thing.”
I need to hear it as much as her. I am not going to get stupid because of some instinctive hormonal reaction!
Naomi’s face falls in disappointment. “Oh. Okay. Well, just had to check! It would be supercute if there was something going on, you know? He’s hot, and you deserve to have fun! Just promise you’ll tell me before I have to find out from someone’s IG story, okay?”
I roll my eyes, ignoring the part of my lizard brain that likes the idea of hot and fun. “If that nothing ever happens, you’ll be the first to know.”
Naomi pouts, but I wave goodbye and weave through the crowd of students, making my way toward Ms. Moore’s first-period calc class with single-minded focus.
Tyler seems surprised to see me, but there are definite perks to my new buddy system—like knowing his entire schedule.
“Hey.” His eyes widen as his gaze flickers up and down my body.
I’m glad I had the presence of mind to wear my unwrinkled sundress despite the morning meltdown.
I will myself not to blush under his gaze, keeping my posture casual for the benefit of the classmates casting us curious glances as they flow past. “What’re you doing here? You ran off pretty fast yesterday.”
I take a deep breath. Rip off the Band-Aid, Sabrina. “Yeah. That’s what I wanted to talk about. I was thinking maybe we shouldn’t go to homecoming together after all.”
His face falls, and my pulse stutters. Is he actually… disappointed?
Tyler takes a step closer, and I have to tilt my head back to maintain eye contact. He smells fresh, green—like sun-warmed grass and lemon peels and eucalyptus, and until this moment I didn’t even know I could recognize eucalyptus, have never cataloged a boy’s smell before.
“You’re really going to throw me to the wolves like that?” His eyes flick to the side, and I realize why he’s stepped so close. A tight cluster of girls inside the classroom hurriedly turn away, which only makes it glaringly obvious that they were watching.
I ignore them. “I know,” I say to Tyler with a sigh. “I don’t want to. It’s just… I didn’t realize you were Ryan’s cousin.”
Tyler blinks, frowns. But before he can open his mouth, everything else in my head is tumbling out.
“And I have so much to do over the next few weeks! I bit off way more than I can chew, and I don’t need anything that’s going to be a distraction or a problem.
The first pep rally of the year is, like, a week away, and I want it to be the best one ever.
Our teams deserve that to kick off our senior year.
Plus, there’s fundraising logistics—organizing the annual car wash is no joke—and my new buddy system is clearly deeply flawed if crucial information is falling through the cracks—and I need to be planning homecoming, not stressing about who I’m going with—”
My forearms are suddenly grasped in two large, warm, steady hands. “Hey. Sabrina.” Tyler peers at me with no small amount of concern (but also a tiny bit of amusement). “Stay with me.”
I suck in a slow, deep breath. My heart speeds up at being so squarely face-to-face with him, but his calm gaze still gives me a weird sense of comfort.
“Let me help—” he starts, but then the warning bell rings, and Ms. Moore appears in the doorway like an extremely punctual wraith.
“I gotta go,” I say, casting her an apologetic glance. She nods approvingly.
Tyler opens his mouth again, but I’m already heading to English. I don’t allow myself a glance backward.
He may be a good guy, but nothing is worth ruining my one remaining safe space.