Page 49 of Ladybirds

Her eyes narrow. “Why not?”

“Your shirt is purple.”

“So?”

“Claire’s is pink. Honestly, it’s like you’re not even trying.”

She stares, dumbfounded. “I cut my hair. How is that not trying?”

“Yes, but why go that far if not to go all the way? Use that pink blouse—the one you keep meaning to donate but never get around to—and roll up the sleeves.” He nods toward her waist. “The skirt will do well enough, but add a belt and switch the black boots for those brown ones.”

Sara’s stare doesn’t drop. “Uh huh… How many times have you watched that movie?”

“Far more than I care to count,” he grumbles, gaze lingering on her hair. Slowly, a grin spreads across his face—crooked and dimpled. “You do know what they called her?”

“Uhm, no?” Just because she knows about the movie doesn’t mean she’s in any way ready for trivia.

His smile widens, but it’s the teasing glint in his eyes that gives it away.

Sara groans. “No.”

“Always, the Princess, aren’t you?”

She changes. Not because Seth said she should, but because she’s desperate to score every single point of extra credit she can get. Sara won’t admit it (at least not to him) but he’s right—the pink blouse in the back of her closet works a lot better.

So do the brown boots.

And the belt.

Sometimes, she could hate him for being right. Especially when his eyes gleam, his mouth curling at the edges with a reserved sort of told-you-so confidence, when he sees her. “Well, make way for the Princess.”

The glare she sends him is weak at best. “Ha ha. Hilarious.”

“I do try.”

Sara grabs her bag off the couch, slinging it over her shoulder and glancing at the clock. She’s running a few minutes behind, but a thought nags at her. Shifting her weight, she adjusts the strap of her bag and fights the awkwardness threatening to make her voice catch. “I, uh, won’t be home after school.”

He perks, head tilting. “Oh?”

She adjusts the bag on her shoulder, shifting awkwardly. “I’m taking some more sunset photos, so I won’t be back until after dark. You know, in case you got worried or whatever.”

“I appreciate your consideration.” He smiles, small but achingly soft at the corners. “Truly.”

Sara shrugs, too embarrassed to meet his eyes. There’s a prickling heat crawling up her neck that has no business being there. “Yeah, so, anyway. Bye.” She turns, silently berating herself as she heads toward the door—her steps a little too quick to come off as casual. She tells herself it’s because she’s running late and not because she’s running away.

Seth calls after her. It’s only the surprise of hearing her name that prompts her to turn back, to meet his eyes. His expression is soft—sincere. “Your hair, it suits you.”

The heat has spread to her cheeks now, but (somehow) she manages to keep her voice steady. “Thanks.”

The tiny curl at the corner of his mouth grows into a smirk. “Good luck, Princess. Also, there’s to be a surprise essay on one of Shakespeare’s sonnet readings today. Do try and brainstorm on those themes we’ve talked about.”

Sara makes a point to slam the door behind her, hoping he didn’t catch her hint of a smile.

There’s an extra pep to her step as she goes to her car.

Ms. Jones had laughed—delighted—when she walked into class and was quick to assure her that the full amount of extra credit would be awarded. Twenty-five extra credit points might not have been enough of an incentive for most of the class, but considering her next semester was riding on her passing, Sara is thrilled. Also, she’s pretty sure she killed the in-class essay. Seth’s warning might have helped. A lot.

So did the quick brush up on Google right before class.

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