Page 45 of To Love or to Lose
With that, I walk away.
Chapter Twelve
214 days until graduation
“Have you studied?” Winnie asks as we walk toward our AP Calc class.
She’s carrying a light pink duffle bag with her that I recognize as her dance bag, along with her regular school bag.
Winnie’s life is split in two. There isballetWinnie, and then there iseverywhere elseWinnie.She takes on two different lives as if they are the bags she carries, and somehow, it only makes her all the more authentic.
We walk toward AP Calc, which is where we will have one of our biggest exams of the year. It’s not a final, but it’s a test that’s weighted enough to do considerable damage to our grade if we don’t do well.
“Who do you think you’re talking to?” I joke. I don’t know why Winnie still asks if I’ve studied. The answer is always “yes, obviously.”“I studied until dinner last night, and then whenI was almost asleep, I had the overwhelming urge to study everything over again. So, I did more practice problems.”
“Of course, you did,” Winnie laughs.
We make our way into the classroom, where most of the people in our class are either looking over the study guide or standing and talking with their friends.
“There’s nothing wrong with wanting to be prepared,” I defend as I set my bag down next to my desk. “I need an A in this class.”
“Of course, you do.” I hear from behind me; the voice of the only person I have been trying to avoid for the last week and a half. “If you don’t get an A, I will win.”
I turn to face Jameson. “Over my dead body will you get a better grade than me inanything.”
“You better start looking over that study guide then,” he snides before walking back over to his seat.
“Okay, what was that?” Winnie asks.
“What?”
“You know what.” She narrows her eyes at me. “Did he do something?”
“Winnie, he didn’t have to do anything, I’ve always hated him,”
Homecoming, while it may have been enlightening, changed nothing between us.
“Okay.” She doesn’t believe what I’m saying, but she also isn’t willing to push the subject further.
The bell rings, and everyone takes their seats. Mrs. Kisler passes out the exam and continues to drone on about testing procedure. Meanwhile, the only thing running through my mind is the repeating phrase:You have to do better than Jameson.
“How do you feel?” Winnie asks in a whisper as we turn in our tests. I look at her with wide eyes. “Sorry.” She winces quietly in response.
She knows my fear of a teacher overhearing us talking during a test. We’ve already heard the speech enough to know she will not hesitate to put us both on academic probation.
I cannot afford to give Jameson that advantage.
Once we’re back to our seats, I grab my phone from my backpack and send her a text.
I don’t want to talk about
the test until the scores are
announced.
Why? Do you think you
did bad?
