Page 7 of My High School Rebel Boyfriend
Mr. Barron turned to face the students and talked us through the plans. I tried to concentrate on that, and not the tingle that seemed to have awakened all of my nerve endings, sending a warm sensation through my body. We would be split into groups, he was saying, and were to follow all safety requirements and listen to the instructions ofthe staff. With over 55 different climbs there were levels for everyone, but Mr. Barron wanted us to push ourselves.
There were those words again:Push yourself!
It felt like the universe was telling me something.
We bundled off the bus and those who needed to change did so. That’s when I berated myself for bringing shorts instead of leggings—hmm, my legs would be on full show. At least being in the changing room allowed me to eat my apple muffin, the carbs giving me that extra energy I’d need.
Everything was going well, I’d partnered with Alicia and managed to climb the 10 meter wall (note to self: don’t do pushups the day before rock climbing). Alicia stuck to the 6 meter wall, but gave up after a few attempts, complaining of tired arms.She was happy to belay for me, that is hold and control the rope from the ground while I kept going.
About half the class had given up by the time Mr. Barron announced we should have a crack at the Race Wall, challenging any of the students to take him on. Mr. Barron was never shy in competing with the students, and Dane stepped forward to take him on. Mr. Barron won, of course, and he beat Jeremy and Tai as well. I was curious to see if Mitchell would take him on but he stood back in the crowd. Odd, someone with such long levers should surely have an advantage over our older, shorter teacher.
“Come on, who’s next?” Mr. Barron was over confident now, but surely his arms would be burning by now.
“Mr. Barron?” My voice was just a squeak, but the vision of Bella hitting golf balls inspired me. “Can I race you?”
All the boys laughed, well, to be fair I was the only girl there—the rest were having smoothies in the cafeteria. They started a chant and clap, “Har-per, Har-per, Har-per.”
Mr. Barron grinned and took me aside. “Are you sure?” I knew it was a discreet way to check that I was feeling allright.
I nodded. “If I win, will I get an A?”
“We’ll see,” Mr. Barron winked.
Mr. Barron set the mark shorter than what the boys had climbed. I took a last minute swig of Gatorade and that’s when Mitchell stepped forward, taking the rope from Dane, casually declaring, “I’ll belay for Harper.”
The smile on his face faded the moment Mr. Barron turned to the wall and I had a sudden flash that Mitchell was going to sabotage my climb. He was going to get me tangled or let go of the rope and cause me to free fall.
All because I’d given his basketball to the teacher!
“Hey, uh...” I tried to get someone’s attention but Dane was shouting out, “3, 2, 1...go!”
Mr. Barron let me win, I know he did.
And Mitchell didn’t crash me to the ground.
“Great effort Harper!” Mr. Barron congratulated me, as did several of the other kids.
But not Mitchell. His glare indicated that there would be another place, another time...maybe he had thought better of deliberately harming me in front of the class.
One of the kids had videoed my rock climbing race and Dad was impressed by my prowess, but Mom was forever tentative.
That looked quite high. It could be dangerous. I hope you didn’t overdo it.
“Relax, Grace,” Dad scolded, “Harps isn’t a baby anymore. She knows her limits.”
“She’ll always be my baby, though,” Mom pouted, throwing me a misty-eyed glance. I turned away, Mom could go sappy easily, and suck you in, too. She bawled when Ryann went to college three hundred miles, and was a blubbering mess for weeks when Nadine chose to go to the east coast. Every time they came home, then left again, there were soggy tissues for days.
If I wasn’t careful I’d be teary in a minute. Drawing in a deep breath to steady myself, I said to Dad, “What are my limits?”
The question surprised Dad. “Your limits?”
“Yeah, you saidI know my limits.What are my limits?”
“Well, sweetheart, you know you have to be careful,” Mom said, mopping at her glistening eyes. “Your health matters above all.”
I could feel my jaw clenching for some reason, and my breath was stalling in my chest.
“Well, I wouldn’t go out and run a marathon if I was you,” Dad said, laughing at his own comment.
