Page 7 of Love Me Steadfast
I check the name plate on the door before following her. Inside, thanks to the big windows at the back of the room, it’s bright, and way too warm, or maybe that’s just me sweating like I’ve run ten sets of bleacher sprints. Rows of black desks face the white board and a demo table to the left. Behind the rows are the lab stations, each with a sink and cabinets.
“What lunch do you have?” Charlotte asks while we queue up just inside the door, where the teacher is greeting students as they file in.
A prickle of nerves dance up the back of my neck. “First.”
Her glossy pink lips press together.
“Why?” I ask.
“Same as Theo,” she says. “You’ll be fine.”
Not a clue what she means by this, and because the teacher calls out that we can sit where we want for today, I’m anxious to snag one of the chairs in the back row before they fill up, so I step around the queue just as two cheerleaders in their white pleated skirts and matching blue and gold vests head for the desks too. The one on the right looks over her shoulder to give me a sultry glance through her dark lashes.
Sometimes the cheerleaders stick around to watch us practice, so I recognize her face. The embroidered “Victoria” on her vest gives me her name.
“Hey, William,” she says in a singsong tone that sends a shockwave down my spine.
I manage a nod before rounding the last row of desks and grabbing a seat.
I should be used to the cheerleaders after a summer of crossing paths with them, but it still blows me away howfucking goodthese girls look. How put-together. Tanned skin and lean limbs and those pouty lips. How is it that we belong in the same universe? I spent the last three years being homeschooled by family friends in order to hide from my drug addict mom and her abusive husband. Not that these girls know any of that shit or ever will, but it’s…wild.
If not for football, I would feel like a total impostor. I still have a long way to go before I feel like I belong—if that’s even possible—but at least I know how to do one thing right, and that’s playing the greatest game on earth.
The two cheerleaders choose seats a row up and to the side. Victoria keeps glancing at me while unpacking her things and carrying on a hushed rapidfire convo with her friend, a blonde cheerleader the size of a toothpick. Beyond them, Charlie is in the front row and already has her laptop out. At orientation last week, everyone who didn’t have a personal laptop got issued one, but it’s still not exactly a piece of equipment I feel comfortable using. Back in Alaska, the only computer I had access to was at the library and you had to pass a test to use one. I suck at tests, so I never even tried.
But I’m not in Alaska anymore. And this is high school, where shit counts.
I’ll just have to fake it—which I’ve gotten pretty good at.
By the end of class, I’m trying so hard to keep up with the teacher that I’m not ready for the bell. When it blares, everyone is already moving for the door. I scramble to pack up, then fight my way out the door as students start streaming in. Outside the classroom, Charlotte is waiting with her back against the wall, her instrument case in her right hand.
“Mrs. McGinley’s room is this way,” she says over the slamming of lockers and rising din of conversations, then takes off down the crowded hallway. She’s on the tall side but those lean legs of hers must be extra-long because I’m practically running to keep up.
“Don’t you have a locker for that?” I nod at her instrument case before we part ways around two big dudes. I swear one of them has a beard.
“I have band next,” Charlotte says, plowing ahead, “so it doesn’t make sense. Plus my locker’s all the way in Red Pod.”
“Got it.” I don’t even know where my locker is. They issued me one, but I don’t plan to use it. Most of our textbooks are online. I’m going to have to spend some time figuring out how to access them. Maybe Sofie can help when she’s home this weekend.
We’re nearing another hallway intersection. “Looks like Tori Crenshaw’s got you in her tractor beam.”
“Um, what?”
Charlotte flicks an impatient glance my way. “That’s the only warning you get, QB. Are you going to use your powers for good, or evil?”
I frown while the contents of my rib cage liquify. Because I think she’s dissing me, but…in a friendly way? I’m supposed to be looking out for her, right?
“Bye,” Charlotte says with a sassy little wave, and turns left, melting into the crowd.
I force my eyes away from her tight little ass and weave throughthe sea of bodies toward where I think McGinley’s classroom is located. Only, it’s not. There are less people in the halls now—not a good sign. I whip out my folded-up schedule and check the room number. Shit. McGinley is 224, and I’m in the low 200s.
“Need help?” a teacher standing in an open doorway asks.
“Uh, yeah. Which way’s two twenty four?”
Just then Victoria slips past the teacher. She flashes him a bright smile. “I can take him there, Mr. Shaw.”
He beams. “Thank you, Tori.”
