Page 16 of Heart Check
Dawson:Not to my knowledge. Am I supposed to?
Harper:Nope. Just wanted to be sure I didn’t accidentally run into you.
WEDNESDAY, 10:52 A.M.
Dawson:My mom said to ask you to do inventory if it’s slow during your shift today
Harper:Sure.
Harper:Tell her she can leave a note next time.
Dawson:Don’t worry, I already did.
FRIDAY, 4:26 P.M.
Harper:Fryer’s broken, FYI, so prepare for a lot of frustrated onion ring lovers
Harper:I hope you have a horrible weekend
Dawson:Thanks for always being a beacon of light in my DMs. Have a great Saturday finding another team to sabotage to distract you from your own life
Harper:It’s either that or find some guys to slam into walls!
SATURDAY, 8:01 P.M.
Dawson:Left lollipop bucket for customers under the host podium. Enjoy the Halloween shift
Dawson:The college kids might be especially wasted
Dawson:I hope you’re ready for four hours on milkshake duty
Dawson:Wear your mittens
Harper:Are you dressing up tonight?
Dawson:Why do you ask?
Dawson:If you want a pic you can just say so, Harper…
Harper:Just thought I’d tell you to save the effort. Nothing could be scarier than seeing you and your friends in the wild
7.DAWSON
The next week passes ina blur. Early morning practices, my breath fogging out into clouds even before I hit the ice; classes where I’m struggling to pay attention and not lose myself in anxious anticipation of our first game against Washington; silent hours at the diner where, on the rare cases Harper and I don’t work out our shifts so we never have to see each other, we keep a wide berth and communicate only in passed order slips and curt nods.
I’m hyperaware of her presence—so I can avoid it, of course. I’ve never realized quite how many times I pass her locker in the halls, how many hours out of the week precalc occupies, how her voice cuts through the crowd.
But we don’t exchange a word. True to our bargain.
The closest we get is when she catches me staring at her as she answers a question in class. She arches a dark eyebrow, and I can practically hear her asking,What happened to “stay out of my way and I’ll stay out of yours”?
Unfortunately, the way my nemesis raises her hand activates the same hyperfocus I get on the ice. The intensity reminds me of tracking a player on the opposing team,admiring their game while trying to defend myself against them.
It’s something about the way she always pulls herself upright like there’s a string attached to the crown of her head, bracelets jangling around her wrists. She’s not afraid to take up space when she knows she’s right. If she didn’t direct that energy in so many annoying ways, I would respect it. It makes her a worthy opponent.
As it is, though, it fills me with frustration. If she used all that rabble-rousing confidence to get Red fired, it might end my career before it even starts.
I turn around to face the whiteboard, and our stalemate remains solid as a brick wall for the next week.
