Page 12 of To Love or to Lose
“On almost every front, you two are tied, and since your GPAs are practically identical, we’ve been forced to look at other areas of your academics.”
“Well, I know for a fact that my SAT score is higher than his,” she counters.
“Jameson has outweighed your SAT score with the coursework he’s taken, Genevieve,” he tells her.
“How is that possible? I’ve taken every AP and honors class that has been offered and passed them all with flying colors.”
I wouldn’t be shocked if she picked up one of the Fairwood Prep pencils sitting conveniently on the headmaster’s desk and stabbed me with it.
“There were more studious offerings at his school in London.”
Genevieve is in full defense mode, ready to take out any competition whenever the opportunity arises. I admire her for it, honestly, but at the same time I’m really considering hiding those pencils.
Genevieve almost laughs, but I can hear the hurt in the noise. “Oh, so this isyourfault?” She’s looking at Headmaster Whiting. “I’m losing my spot as Valedictorian becauseyoudon’t offer enough upper level and AP classes?”
“Either way, you both are on an even playing field,” he replies, attempting to diffuse the situation.
“Unbelievable,” she sighs under her breath.
“Unless anything major happens to either of your class standings, the board and I have granted you a shared speech at graduation.”
Genevieve takes a sharp inhale, then she grabs her backpack and stands. “I’m sorry, but I really need to get to class.”
“Genevieve—”
“No,” she says. “I’m sorry Headmaster Whiting, I mean no disrespect, but I will not sit here and allow someone to walk in and takemyspot after working as hard as I have for the past three years. He didn't even completehalfof his high school education here.”
With that, she walks out, and I follow.
“Jameson—”
“Let me talk to her.” And then, I’m gone, following the girl whose intentions I no longer have to question, because she just laid them out like a deck of cards.
She wants to win, and she will do anything to secure her spot on top.
The same brown hair that was draped over the back of an office chair minutes before is swaying with every step Genevieve takes away from me.
I take a moment to catch up with her. Besides the fact that she can walkextremelyfast in her heeled Mary Janes, she also had a head start out of the headmaster’s office, so she’s already making her way toward the steps to the second floor.
“Genevieve!” I call, jogging to catch up.
“I really don't want to talk to you,” she sighs, running her hands through the length of her hair until they fall to her sides.
“I was going to ask you to help me find my class,” I say.
It’s a complete lie. I know where all my classes are, but I need a valid reason to talk to her.
“You think I’m going to help you?” She crosses her arms over her torso, her face turning into a scowl.
“Well, I hoped, if you walked me to my lesson, I would have the opportunity to tell you I had no idea that was the conversation you were going to be walking into.”
“You didn’t know that you were coming to Fairwood to steal my spot as Valedictorian?”
“No, I didn’t.”
Shifting her weight backward on her heels, she looks like she’s contemplating what to say next.
Again, unusual from my limited understanding.
