Page 9 of The Forever After Bet

“Well, someone might tell us—I mean you.” Ty glances at my phone on the coffee table.

“Bree,” I say with resignation. “Do you think she’d believe I got my phone taken away?”

Jack shrugs. “You were kind of grounded over the weekend. I say go for it.”

“Okay.” I pick up my phone, but then set it down. “Why was I grounded? I can’t tell her the truth.”

Ty snaps his fingers. “Say you sloughed the last half of school on Friday. That’s not a lie. Your parents found out, and they had to cancel their trip. You got grounded for the weekend and had your phone taken away.”

I nod. “That’s good, Ty.” I pick my phone back up and text Bree. Hey, sorry, I haven’t had my phone today. I got busted for ditching school on Friday, and my parents were pissed. I just got my phone back. Sorry, I missed the meeting. I totally want to help. Did I miss anything important? I read the text back to the guys before I send it.

“Yeah, that works.” Jack nods.

Bree texts back immediately. Oh, I’m so sorry, that sucks. Parentals are so brutal. You didn’t miss anything. I talked about volunteer sign-ups for the craft fair in two weeks. I’ll also need some muscle to help set up our booth for the fair. If you and the guys could help, that would be totes great.

Before I can respond, she sends another text.

Someone said you weren’t coming, but I knew she was lying. You told me you wanted to help, and I know you don’t go back on your word.

“Oh, jeez,” I mutter. I read the texts to Ty and Jack, and they have the same reaction.

No, I want to help. Who said I didn’t?

Well, I don’t want to name names. I’m not mean like that, but you deserve to know who’s talking shit about you. It was your ex, Hannah Clark.

Bree’s not mean? Does she not know what the definition of the word? Bree is the meanest person I’ve ever met. Clark is helping? That doesn’t really seem like her kind of thing.

I feel like a jerk for leading Bree on—sort of. Helping people and volunteering is something Hannah would totally do and not just so she can put it down on her college application. She does it because she’s a good person and cares about others.

Right!! That’s what I said. Why she volunteered is beyond me. She’s jealous of me. I think she found out I asked to be the chairman, and she went behind my back to Mrs. Landry, saying she wanted it. She’s doing this because she thinks it will make her look good and put her in the spotlight.

“Well, that didn’t really work. All she’s doing is feeding me a bunch of B.S. about Hannah and not telling me why they have to work together.” I hand my phone to Jack and let him read the rest of her texts.

“It’s probably the other way around,” Jack says, and tosses the phone to Ty.

“She sent you another one. It says I just want to help the poor and downtrodden.” Ty tips his head back, laughing.

I shake my head, annoyed. “The downtrodden? I don’t think kids who need winter coats and hats are oppressed, but maybe she knows something I don’t.”

On Wednesday, when I get to English, Hannah isn’t there yet. She comes running into the classroom as the tardy bell rings. “You’re cutting it close, Miss Clark.” Mrs. Hammond humphs, looking down her nose at Hannah.

“Sorry,” she mutters and hurries to her seat. We have until Friday to turn in the rough drafts of our thesis papers, but we’re moving on and starting a new section today about poetry. I read through the poems that were assigned and didn’t understand what any of them meant. I honestly don’t understand the point. I’d rather reread Moby Dick than try to dissect the meaning of poems, and I freaking hate that book. We spend the hour reading poems out loud and talking about their meaning. It’s so boring that my mind wanders. Before I know what I’m doing, I wrap my finger around one of Hannah’s blonde curls.

She sucks in a breath, going still. I close my eyes, count to ten, and slowly untwist her hair from my finger. I stare at Hannah’s back, waiting for another reaction. After several minutes, she hunches forward and continues taking notes. She still won’t talk to Jack. If she won’t talk to him, there’s no way she’ll talk to me. I’m not ready to talk yet anyway. I don’t know what to say.

When the bell rings, Hannah has her stuff all packed up and ready to go. She stands up and turns around, standing next to me. She doesn’t look at me, but she drops a note on my desk and then runs out of the room. I stare at the folded piece of paper with my name scribbled across it, afraid to open it. I grab my stuff and walk out of the classroom. I grip the note so tight it crumples. I toss it on the shelf in my locker and shut it, but I immediately regret it and open it back up and grab the note. My heart is racing, and my hands shake as I unfold the paper. There are three words scribbled across it. Keep your promise.

I shut my locker, leaning my head against it. Keep my promise. Maybe things are not as hopeless as I thought.

“Ford, are you okay?” Ty asks, leaning against the locker next to me.

“Yeah, I think I am.” I push off the locker and pat Ty’s back and smile.

“That’s good,” Ty smiles back. “I’ll see you at lunch.”

“Sounds good.”

I’m late getting to class, and Hannah is already there. Yesterday, Jack and I sat in the corner so she could have her usual seat. When I walk in, I find Hannah sitting in Jack’s seat, and Jack is sitting in my seat in the other row. He looks at me and shrugs. I sit down behind Hannah in her old seat. Well, this is an improvement over the past two days. I’ll take it.

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