Page 14 of Heart Check
I spend the next hour staring hard at the back of his head, hoping it gives him a migraine.
It’s a beautiful, crisp fall day, the sky a crystal-clear blue and the leaves on my favorite oak tree just starting to turn. Butwhen I meet Marissa under it for lunch, relieved to finally make it to the safe haven of our friendship, even the part of my brain that would normally be taking inspiration from the jewel tones of autumn is buzzing with stress.
Underclassmen file by on their way to the courtyard for lunch, seniors hurrying past us so they can grab a quick bite off campus. If I were them, I’d be hustling to make the most of a short lunch period, but somehow they still have time to slow their footsteps to glower at us.
“Narc,” some guy mutters.
A familiar voice adds loudly, “Only people who don’t have a life spend their time ruining other people’s.”
I whirl to confront them, mouth half-open, but Josie’s already raising a challenging eyebrow at me. “And you can forget about that commission,” she adds.
She’s gone before I can protest or defend myself.
I gape at Marissa. “Okay, insults about my social life are one thing. I came to terms with that a long time ago.”
She nods sadly. “We don’t have a leg to stand on.”
“But attacking my business?” I rip my sandwich out of my paper lunch bag. “That’s hitting me where it hurts! Why is everyone so convinced it’s me, anyway? Why do they even care so much? Can’t they hit it into the goal no matter what? Why does it matter who’s blowing the whistle at them?”
Marissa’s holding her insulin pump to bolus for her lunch, but she’s stopped mid–number crunching to stare at my hands. When I follow her gaze, I realize I’m ripping my peanut butter and jelly sandwich into tiny, bite-sized, rage-induced pieces.
“So you weren’t the evil genius who took down the hockeyteam once and for all?” She’s smirking, pure delight on her face at the prospect of the jocks getting dethroned.
I can’t access the same joy. “No! You know I’d come to you right away if I found information like that. No way could I keep it to myself.” I shove a piece of sandwich in my mouth, chewing angrily. “And honestly, now that I’m public enemy number one, I’ll be kinda pissed if someone ratted him out and isn’t coming clean.”
“Yeah.” Marissa frowns, focusing on her pump again, and slumps against the trunk of the tree. “Well, I would’ve respected it if it were you, you know. We’ve been shit-talking the hockey team since freshman year. It’s not like it would’ve been a shock.”
“Listen, I may think the players are idiots, but I don’t have time for… for espionage! Getting their coach fired is a whole other level of commitment to scheming.” I shake my head. “I don’t have that level of deviousness in me even for the hockey team, you know?”
Marissa searches in her backpack for a long minute before emerging with a bag of chips. “Well, maybe it’ll make the school pay attention to something other than hockey for once,” she says. “Plus—and you didn’t hear this from me—Coach Red isn’t the only one who doesn’t deserve to stay a Hawk.”
I frown. “What do you mean?”
“Lila told me during newspaper today that she tutored Dawson in English last year.” Marissa leans forward. “She said he was slipping into academic probation territory, but Coach Red let it slide. Fudged some rules so he could keep playing.”
I shake my head in outrage. “Seriously? They really live in another universe.”
Angry blood rushes to my face as I think about Dawson literally skating by on his entitlement. Asking me to cover shifts with no notice. Smirking and running his hands through his hair as if it’s some sort of secret devastating weapon. I don’t care about yourflow, Dawson. And maybe everything in the universe doesn’t bend to your will.
“They couldn’t survive without their rising star,” Marissa says, wrinkling her nose. “So maybe that’s part of their loyalty. Maybe they’re worried Coach Dan won’t let things slide anymore. I don’t know. But I have a feeling the team’s gonna be really different without Red around.”
The Lakeside is packed that evening. The sunshine clouded over quickly—it never lasts long this time of year—and rain is pouring down in sheets outside, which seems to have brought half the town in after this afternoon’s football game. I’m sweating through my uniform, my hair frizzing around my face from self-generated humidity.
Too bad work is an extension of the school day’s torture. Other than a few allies like Miguel, who comes through for a milkshake and shoots me a sympathetic glance, I get way more dirty looks than tips from the under-eighteen crowd today. The news spread fast. Before I was overlooked and invisible, and that was insulting enough. I never wanted to trade that invisibility forthis.
I’ve gotten pretty good at ignoring the vast majority of Hamilton Lakes over the last few years, but even I’m not impervious to outright hostility. This is way worse than being irrelevant. At least then Marissa and I could keep our heads down to do our own thing, knowing we had futures aheadmuch bigger than this town. Now, everyone seems intent on making my junior year as miserable as possible—and maybe ruining that future, too, if they can manage it.
I push that worry away for later. It’s too stressful to even consider.
Luckily, Dawson’s working in the back, prepping ingredients for tomorrow’s service. Whenever he pops out onto the floor or I have to go back for something, our gazes lock. We both must have hatred homing beacons set for the other, because I have this sixth sense for where he is at all times.
Of course he’s playing under different rules. Well, let’s see how he feels this year, having to work like the rest of us.
I shake my head to clear it. I have way better things to worry about than Dawson and the hockey team. I’ve got half a dozen orders to fulfill, I want to figure out a new Beads by Braedon line to launch around the holidays, and I need to brainstorm my application for the Young Entrepreneurs Grant.
The rumor will blow over soon, and then I can get back to my regular, invisible lifeas planned.
It takes a little more effort than usual, but everything clicks into place in my mental to-do list. Get table six their drinks, bus table ten, check with Lindsey on the waitlist… then home, shower, study for the precalc test, update my website, fulfill an order before bed while finishing my podcast.
