Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
My phone buzzes inside my backpack as the office door clicks shut behind me.
The hallway is too bright, too loud, like someone turned the volume up on the entire school.
That was not how it was supposed to go. I walked into Principal Fisher’s office with a plan and a perfectly reasonable case to get Connection Services shut down, and I walked out with… nothing.
Instead of heading towards the cafeteria, I swing towards the lockers. Images of Analiese whispering about my problems with Braden flit through my mind, quickly followed by imagined scenes of my classmates playing telephone with my secrets behind their hands and casting judgmental glances.
Nope.
Going to the cafe and surviving that social humiliation is not something I can handle right now. Plus, there are only a few minutes left before the start of the next class period.
My fingers slip on the cold metal of my lock, so I swipe my sweaty palms down my skirt and try again.
When I finally get it open, my hands move on autopilot, shuffling books and binders around more times than necessary.
Remembering what I need for the last couple of classes of the day feels impossible with echoes of Analiese’s horrid voice reverberating through my bones.
Maybe he’s as sick of you as the rest of us.
I’ve likely failed at putting the right books in my backpack, but the bell sounds, jolting me.
I slam the locker closed and zip my backpack, no longer caring—the need to get out of the hallway before it’s flooded with students is now the priority.
Already, a few students drift past and their gazes feel heavy.
I bury my nose in my phone and hunch my shoulders.
There are several texts from Jenna.
Jenna: Woman, where are you?! There’s all kinds of drama going down today!
Jenna: !!!
Jenna: There’s rumors going around that Sarah L from the tennis team got paired with Mr. Daniels on Connection Services and things apparently got pretty uncomfortable before they realized who the other was.
Jenna: OMG. Principal Fisher just showed up and commanded the room in her power suit, as she does. Gah, I have such a girl crush on her.
Jenna: Oh man, she’s laying down the law about CS!
Jenna: Are you alive?!
A laugh almost slips out at Jenna’s dramatic spiral—of course she’s eating this up.
Then my stomach drops. If the school’s looking for entertainment, I might be next.
Would Jenna defend me if that happened, or would she laugh along with everyone else?
We’ve been besties since kindergarten. That should count for something.
Me: Wow! Sounds like I missed out on a lot at lunch! Sorry I went MIA… had some work to finish up before my next class.
She responds immediately.
Jenna: My little school nerd *heart emoji*. Feels like I never see you lately! We need a day soon. When I don’t have practice or a game. Which is almost never. We’ll figure something out.
I thumbs up her text then toss my phone in my backpack.
Guilt tightens my chest. Everything I’m keeping from Jenna stacks up—the issues between my mom and dad, the growing tension with Analiese, and the fact that Braden has practically ghosted me and might be dating someone else behind my back.
It’s a lot. It’s not that Jenna isn’t trustworthy; it’s that I wish none of it were true and pretending things are fine makes me feel better.
There’s a little voice inside me that’s afraid all my darkest fears will happen if I speak them out into the universe.
It’s irrational. But… what if it’s true?
The candy in my backpack is calling my name. Maybe my problems can be solved with a little more sugar. It’s worth a shot.
AP History flies by, and soon enough I find myself in my favorite class: art. My eyelids fight to stay open as the teacher lectures about various styles and artists of the past who pioneered each technique—all very thrilling stuff if you like art, I’m sure.
A wadded-up ball of paper flies from the side and strikes me on the ear. When I turn, Jake’s dimpled smirk is there. Naturally. Who else would it be?
He juts his jaw towards the crumpled paper. I shake my head, confused about what he wants until he mimes picking the paper up with his hands and opening it.
A note? What are we, ten?
It reads:
You + Me = Calculus?
My eyes roll. Jake seems to have designated himself as my permanent personal tutor, which I neither need nor want.
Ok… that’s not strictly true. I bite my lip as I think about my current lackluster calculus grade.
He was extremely helpful the day he came over to do homework together.
But if I need a tutor, does it have to be Jake?
True, we are friends. He made that very clear when he saved me on the side of the road, and I’m thankful for that clarification.
No matter what’s happening with Braden and me, we’re still dating.
Even if Braden wants to break up, I would never betray him without at least talking to him about it.
And I don’t want to break up! We just need a good heart-to-heart in person, and then we can get back on track.
Jake knows about my bad grade, and he’s already helped me, so my failure is not news to him.
After the Analiese debacle—and with potential social fallout—it's best to keep things under wraps. All of these things make perfect sense, so the mature thing to do is push aside any lingering weird feelings about hanging out with Jake and accept his help. My goals in life haven’t changed, so it’d be silly to not take advantage of Jake’s surprisingly good tutoring skills.
After grabbing a fresh sheet of paper, I scribble out a quick response:
Fine, but after dinner. My house. You bring snacks.
I wait until Mr. Z turns toward the board to write out a detailed Venn diagram (something about comparing art by eras… something something) and flick it in Jake’s direction. He reads it quickly and sends a response flying my way.
Fine, as I have hockey practice after school anyway. By ‘snacks,’ you mean bring myself, right? Cuz I’m a tasty snack, or so I’ve heard.
A scoff leaves my lips. Mr. Z is still writing, so I fling it back after writing a reply.
I’m not going to entertain that comment. M&M’s, cookies, and chocolate-covered pretzels are all acceptable.
Right before Mr. Z finishes the diagram and turns to face the class again, Jake sends the paper back my way.
Didn’t we just get a bunch of Halloween candy??
Because we can no longer secretly throw notes while the teacher’s looking, I hunch down in my seat behind my easel and cast Jake an exaggerated ‘So?’ by shaking my head and raising my hands.
He looks puzzled, so I subtly shift my hand down to grab my phone out of my backpack.
Realizing I don’t have Jake’s phone number, I send Jenna a text instead.
Each line I type comes out sharper than the last.
Me: Jenna, can you tell your brother that first of all, it’s rude to throw paper at girls in class, and second of all, it’s a major faux pas to suggest girls can eat too much candy?? And last, tell him to get GOOD snacks. Not the cheap crap. I can’t write that all on a tiny paper. Thanks.
Jenna: Wait, Jake’s doing what?!
Me: He’s in my art class and being a pain.
Jenna: Girl, just kick him.
Jenna: But I’ll text him. It’s not like history is interesting.
“Miss James,” Mr. Z says sternly, “are you messaging on a device during class time?”
A denial is on the tip of my tongue, but perhaps I can spin this situation to my advantage with Principal Fisher. If there’s ever a time to turn a mess into leverage, it’s now.
“I apologize, Mr. Z. I find myself unable to resist the temptation to message during class sometimes since the Connection Services pilot program was launched.” I feign a dejected and guilty mien as I continue.
Drama club has never been a personal interest of mine, but maybe I have a knack for acting.
“I feel I can speak for all students here at Valley Prep when I say that our educational futures would greatly benefit from the termination of the Connection Services program, and maybe a ban on cell phone use during school hours as well. Perhaps this is something you’d like to bring up with Principal Fisher during the next staff meeting? ”
Low curses ripple through the room, followed by a chorus of not-so-subtle boos. Even Mr. Z is giving me a strange look.
Dan—yes, that Dan—raises his hand. “I’d like to go on the record stating that Ava does not speak for me.”
I shoot him an irritated look. “No one asked you, Dean.”
Dan merely looks confused, clearly missing my dig at his name-amnesia once again.
There’s a round of nods and a rumble of agreeing hums in the room. A prickle of annoyance climbs my neck. At least Jake isn’t participating in this groupthink against me, though he also looks more than a little baffled. Is this really such a radical idea?
Mr. Z focuses on me with a raised brow. “Clearly you are texting on your phone, not using Connection Services on your school-issued tablet. Put it away and pay attention, or I’ll be forced to seize all your devices and turn them into the office for collection by one of your parents.”
My lips clamp closed. That’s one complication I do NOT need.
My mom has been working crazy ER hours and I definitely lost some of her trust the day I ran out of gas.
My dad is on a set in Australia for a couple more weeks—so he’s not exactly available to pick up my devices from the school office.
Even though I want to disarm Analiese and her power over me, I don’t want to shoot myself in the foot either.
Begrudgingly, I listen to the rest of the class lecture and try to manifest the end of Connection Services in my heart.
After school ends, Jake walks with me to the lockers. Again.
“What was that about?" he asks.