Page 27 of Fighting Spirit

“It was kind of a lot.”

“Yeah, I bet it was!” She flicks a wayward strand of dark hair out of her eyes. “Did you report them?”

My spine stiffens. I’ve been thinking for days about whether or not to say anything to the administration. I know I should. What they did was awful, but I’m scared.

“Not yet.” I look down at my hands. Clara must sense what I mean because she reaches over, squeezing my knee.

“If you want me to come with you, let me know.”

I almost startle at the offer. She throws it out so easily, like it’s nothing. “Really?”

She shrugs. “Course, honestly, anytime.”

There’s a little pang in my chest at her kindness. Without knowing it, I’d been waiting for someone to be unhesitatingly on my side. I can’t tell if it’s better or worse coming from someone who doesn’t know me that well.

“Thanks.” I almost choke out the word, my throat suddenly tight.

She knocks our shoulders together. “That guy sounds kinda hot though.”

“What did?” I laugh. “When he called me puffy or the bit where he tipped cold water all over me?”

“Stop, you know what I mean,” she giggles, “the whole surly and protective thing? Smoking hot.”

“I can give you his number if you want?” I say wryly.

She practically launches out of her seat, squealing, “Why do you have his number?”

“He needed to give me back the gloves.”

“Oh, sure.” She nods skeptically.

“He did!”

“And have you been using this number?”

Heat rushes to my face.

“Oh my god, you have!”

“Just a little,” I say sheepishly. Rowan and I have been sending the odd message back and forth over the past few days. Mostly just pleasantries, one time he sent me an article hethought I’d find funny. It’s been nice. As if his steady energy is radiating through the phone.

“You absolute fox.”

“It’s not like that.”

“Notyet.”

“Not at all, we’re just friends.”

“Sure.”

“I mean, even ‘friends’ is a stretch.”

“For now.” She waggles her eyebrows.

“Clara!”

“Miss Walcott?” A clipped voice rings out through the space, cutting off my laughter. My mood flattens instantly as I look around to see Professor Melville sticking her head around her door, her face impassive. “Shall we?” As she gestures into the office, the wave of her hand feels like a sentencing.

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