Page 2 of The Perfect Catch

“I just wish we’d seen him kiss you. Maybe we’d be able to tell you who he was.” Brynn had this weird talent where she could recognize people from the back of them, probably some perk to seeing above the crowd. If there was a way to teleport back to that moment just to move her into position, I would do it.

Opening my to-do list, I addedAsk someone to danceto the list and clicked the phone back off. “I’ll have to figure that out.”

The table was silent for a few minutes before voices yelled over my shoulder. I turned around, glancing out to a large group of people standing around something in the commons.

I told myself it shouldn’t matter who was in the middle of the mob, that I should just finish my lunch and move on with my day. My mom had given me several lectures on appearances and how things could look, no matter how innocent. And yet I still stood, walking with my three friends over to the outskirts of the group. I stretched up on my tiptoes, trying to see who was in the middle. Fists flew, and at least one of them connected with a jaw, jerking Trent Jacobs’s head to the side with a weird cracking sound.

I could only see the back of the guy who’d thrown the punch, sandy-brown hair and broad shoulders. For a second, I wondered if he was my Masked Kisser because he was so tall and big. But then again, everyone was tall and big compared to my five feet and half an inch.

Seconds went by before the crowd on the other side parted as Principal McKee and Mrs. Watkins barged through, assessing the damage and pulling the two guys apart. Mr. McKee was lucky Trent didn’t nail him with a punch as he tried to hit his opponent after the last one.

“Everyone get to fourth period,” Mr. McKee said, his tone harsh, but it worked. Students dispersed throughout the commons and halls, the bell ringing a few seconds after his words.

I watched the two kids being led down the hall to the principal’s office and wondered what had spurred them to fight.

“Here’s your backpack and your last breadstick,” Penny said, stepping next to me again. I hadn’t realized she’d gone to retrieve them, but then again, she hated being late to anything.

“Thanks,” I said, waving goodbye as I walked up the stairs in the direction of my next class: Senior Committee. My mind wouldn’t leave the scene I’d witnessed, and I kept seeing the back of the guy walking down the hall, no matter how much I tried to swipe it away. Being the president of the student body, I knew when new students moved into Rosemont High, so he definitely wasn’t new. I was going to blame it on the little sleep I’d gotten over the past couple of days and not on the fact that I was more than curious.

Copyright © 2020 by Britney M Mills

Cover design by Bree Livingston

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

Chapter 2

Dax

Sitting with my head in my hands, I listened to the monotone hum of the principal’s voice through the door. I’d been waiting for over ten minutes, and if it weren’t for the secretary with eyes in the back of her head, I’d have gotten up and walked out by now. My jaw still stung from the hit I’d taken from Trent Jacobs, and it would probably end up bruised. Not like I hadn’t had to hide that kind of thing before.

I wasn’t someone special at this school, and if it weren’t for the chance to play baseball, I probably would have dropped out a while ago. But Mr. McKee and my grandmother, Noni, wouldn’t let that happen.

The door opened, and Trent walked out, shooting me a smirk. A ring of bluish-black ran around one eye and down into his cheek. At least he didn’t get out of the fight unscathed. The kid gave me a wide berth, and if I hadn’t heard my name from the principal, I would have tried to continue what we’d started in the commons.

“Come in, Dax,” the principal said, his voice sounding wearier every time I was called in. Once I stepped inside, he motioned to a chair. “Sit.”

Taking a deep breath, I slouched down into the uncomfortable wooden excuse for a chair in his office, the familiar smell of microwaved food wafting through the room. Garlic. Pasta. It made my stomach grumble just thinking about it. All I’d had for lunch was a mushy apple I’d grabbed on my way out the door that morning.

Principal McKee leaned forward, his glasses set halfway down his nose for the signature “I don’t want to tell you again” look. I stretched out my legs, ready for the lecture I probably deserved.

“Dax, this is the second time in six weeks that you’ve sat in my office, not to mention last year and the year before that. I’ve always tried to give you the benefit of the doubt since you lost your mother, but this is getting old. I thought you were going to make an effort to change.” He pulled his glasses off with one hand and rubbed his nose and the corner of his eyes with his thumb and forefinger.

A shot of guilt flowed through me, and I sat up, leaning my elbows on my thighs. Studying the back of my hands, I nodded. “I’m sorry, Mr. McKee. Trent was running his mouth, and I just…I couldn’t hold back.” I made a fist as if I could deal him one last blow, even though he’d left a few minutes ago. I paused for a minute, glancing up at Mr. McKee. He usually got straight to the point. “What’s the punishment this time?”

Shaking his head, Mr. McKee said, “That’s the problem, Dax. There shouldn’t be a ‘this time’.” He pursed his lips, his eyes seeing right through me. Several seconds passed before he spoke again. “I tried calling your father but only got his voicemail.”

I nodded. “He’s on the road this week. He said something about being home tomorrow.” As I said the words, dread pooled through me as it did just about every time my father came home from driving his truck.

“Since the previous punishments haven’t changed much for you, I think we’ll do something different this time.” He flipped through a few papers on his desk, tapping his finger against his lips as he did so. “Senior Committee is always looking for help with their events.”

I scoffed, shaking my head. “You want me to work with the nerds? That’s not going to happen.” I ran through the group of people he was talking about in my head, the ones who were always happy and talked about how much they loved school.

There was one, though, that stood out, her blond hair and blue eyes pulling me in every time I saw her. Kate Adams.

I pushed those thoughts away, knowing that even contemplating having a chance with her was going to be a disappointment. She was one of those people who was nice to everyone, always had a smile on her face, and was just about the complete opposite of myself.

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