Page 4 of As You Walk On

“Sure,” says Jay. “Take all eight minutes you have left.”

“What?”

Darren, all smooth light-brown skin and undercut showing off his sharp jawline, holds up his phone to indicate the time.

12:52 p.m.

Fuck.

Another rule: all dares must be completed before the end of lunch. Since we’ve rarely shared classes at BOHS, a built-in prerequisite to prevent cheating was needed:At least one member of the squad must be present to witness the dare.

Scrambling, I open my selfie camera.

Overall, I don’t look like a complete disaster. My sponge twists could use a touch-up. Glowing brown skin with gold undertones. No leftover pretzel mustard around my mouth. Plain black T-shirt and matching joggers. An old pair of Jordan 1 Retros in Smoke Grey.

Simple and classy.

“Ticktock, TJ,” sings Jay.

I lower my phone to give him an unobstructed view of my middle finger. I don’t do nicknames. Surviving years of teasing from my elementary school classmates—hello, Theodore Roosevelt!Ted! Teddy Bear!—earned me that right. Only Dad is permitted to call me TJ now.

“I’m going,Jayson,” I shoot back with an equally taunting grin.

Jay’s face reddens. Only his mom calls him that.

As I’m leaving, Darren narrates, “This is really happening. Way to lean into your confidence, Theo. Get yours. Step right into that big, bright, romantic—”

“Added commentary not helping, D.”

Darren throws a hand over his mouth, nodding.

When Jay’s eyes meet mine, he lifts a brow as if to say,Well? Are you gonna punk out?

Nah, I’m not. I’m Theo Wright, soon to be conference champion in the 4x400 relay. Christian Harris’s future prom date.

Across the quad, Christian and his friends are packing up. They toss their trash in the proper bins. Other students pivot toward the main building. I cut through a pack of senior cheerleaders, nearly knocking Makayla Lawrence over.

“Sorry, sorry,” I mutter, quickly helping her reorient.

As far as cheerleaders go, Makayla’s harmless. She’s pretty much sociable with everyone at Brook-Oak. According to rumors, she’sextrafriendly with the guys.

“Be careful,” she says with a sigh, running to catch up with her friends.

Right. Find your chill, Theo.

How can I when Christian slings his canvas messenger bag over his chest? He beams at the short, curvy Black girl beside him. They turn in the direction of the stairs. He’s leaving, along with all my prom dreams.

I hop, swerve, and wiggle through another group of students.

I’m close enough to hear Christian’s cool voice among the noise.

“Whatever, Keyona.” He snorts. “Don’t get mad at me ’cause I have better plans than mainliningGilmore Girlswith you this weekend.”

The girl, Keyona, tosses fruit snacks into his messy, dark curls.

“Like what? Masturbate?”

Christian’s light-brown cheeks instantly go dark red. I almost choke. Suddenly, my joggers are much tighter.

---