Page 8 of Something Rad
Well, I think it’s actually whatDadused to always say. But still.
Tick, tick, tick.
What kind of grease does one even put on a wheel?
Bbrrrriiiiiinnnnngggg!
I startle, biting down suddenly so hard on my pencil that I hear my jaw pop. “Shit,” I mutter, rubbing the side of my face.
Once the pain somewhat subsides, and as the majority of the students start filing out of the classroom, I blow out a breath.
You’ve got this. Just go up there and ask–
No,demand, I hear Alice’s voice correcting me in my head.
I straighten my stack of books unnecessarily for the third time, then force myself out of my seat and in the direction of Mr. Hughes’s desk. The moment I do so, however, he spins around and starts rifling through some papers.
That makes me hesitate for some reason.
He seems busy. Now’s probably not a good time.
I spin on my heel and make way for the door.
I’ll just talk to him about it tomorrow. Or maybe next week. It’s only the first day of school for crying out loud. And, besides, judging by the only two classes I’ve attended so far today, this clearly isn’t my day. I’ll just see myself out—
“What can I do for you, Sara?”
I freeze in place so fast that my journal slides forward off of the front of the stack of books in my hands. “What?” I sputter, bending down to grab it. “Oh, nothing I–Crap,ouch!”
I raise my hand, rubbing at the sore spot on my head from where I just banged it on a desk as I was standing up.
“Sara?”
I slowly spin back to face Mr. Hughes, attempting to smooth out my curled hair.
Yeah, that left a dent, alright.
I switch priorities, quickly fastening the middle button on my denim jacket. I wasn’t seriously about to face my favorite teacher with a mess of a hair-doanda stained sweater on display. I force a smile on my face as one of Mr. Hughes’s brows starts to raise.
“I–Er… Hi. I just wanted to say hi. Happy first day!” I wave my fist with enthusiasm like it’s a cheerleading pom-pom wielded by Denise Davis, then start to turn away again.
“Sara, come on. What’s on your mind?”
I hesitantly spin back around. “Nothing, I swear! No thoughts in my head.”
Mr. Hughes lets out a sigh. “I’m pretty sure we both know that is never true, Sara. And I’m almost positive I know what it is this time, so why don’t we just talk about it?”
When I don’t respond for a moment, Mr. Hughes motions with his hand towards the open desk right in front of him.
My stare flicks between his hand and the desk several times before letting out a light sigh of defeat. Straightening my shoulders, I walk over to the desk and slide into its seat. I set my books down on the table in front of me, lacing my fingers together and training my eyes on them.
Just say it.
“I want to be the yearbook editor.”
I gradually raise my gaze to meet Mr. Hughes’s. He leans forward further in his seat, but his expression is unreadable. He doesn’t say anything.
“I think I should be the yearbook editor.”
