Page 21 of I Hope This Doesn't Find
In fact, I doubt Julius has scrubbed a single thing in his life.
“This is ridiculous,” he says, shaking his head. “This is just the school’s excuse to make us do manual labor.”
“Well, we better get started.” I tug my hair free from its usual high bun, flipping it over my head and smoothing it with my fingers before retying it into a ponytail. I straighten in time to catch Julius staring at me, a strange, faintly confused look on his face. “What?”
“Nothing. I’ve just . . . never seen you with your hair down before.”
I feel myself bristle. “And?”
“What do you mean,and?” His mouth puckers. “It was only an observation.”
“With you, there’s always anand,” I tell him, fighting the sudden urge to touch my hair, to flatten it, to check it in a mirror. It’s true that I never wear my hair down at school, partly because the rules don’t allow you to if your hair’s any longer than shoulder-length—though the younger, nicer teachers don’t really care—and partly because it gets in the way when I’m jogging or taking notes. “Your entire existence is basically a run-on sentence.”
At this, his expression readjusts itself into a familiar sneer. “And here I’d thought you’d already used up every possible insult in your emails.”
“Don’t worry, I can always think of more.” I pick up the brush again and step forward before he can respond. “Okay, for simplicity’s sake, let’s split this between us. You can hose down the walls, and I’ll scrub.”
“Why me?” he demands. “Why can’t you use the hose?”
I breathe in deeply through my nostrils. I can’t believe the principal thinks this plan will help usbridgeour differences. If anything, my desire to throttle Julius has only tripled since this morning. “Because,” I say, keeping my tone as neutral as possible, “to be honest with you, I don’t think you know how to scrub.”
The corner of his lip twists farther down. “Of course I know how.”
“Right,” I tell him, unconvinced.
“I’ll prove it to you.” As he speaks, he pulls out a pair of black gloves from his pockets and starts snapping them on.
“What is that?” I frown at him. “Why on earth are you wearing gloves? We’re not here to rob a building.”
“Protecting my skin. I have very nice hands—as you have already observed in the past. It would be a shame to ruin them.”
My face flushes despite myself.
“Here.” He throws the hose to me and takes the brush in his perfectly gloved fingers. “Watch.”
I do. I turn the hose on and spray a small patch of the wall and watch, incredulous, as he moves the brush around in a pathetic circular motion. The bricks are darker, the surface shining with water, but none of the marker comes off. Actually, I think he’s managed to smudge it further.
“Why are you massaging the wall?” I ask him.
He stops. Spins around with a scowl. “Forgive me for not attacking it like someanimal—”
“You’re wasting time.” I tip my head up, scan the sky. The light has already started to fade from a brilliant cerulean to a heavy indigo, and most of the cars have pulled out of the parking lot across the oval. Panic pinches my stomach. My mom will be waiting for me to get home and make dinner. I still have to defrost the pork ribs and turn the rice cooker on and stew the soup—
“I can still do it better than you,” Julius insists, moving the brush over a pair of initials that readsAJ + BH FOREVER. It’s since been crossed out and replaced by the wordsAJ + LE FOREVER.
My frustration boils fast inside me. “Oh my god, you’re so stubborn.”
“You’re so bossy,” he shoots back.
“Difficult,” I seethe.
“Demanding.”
“Arrogant.”
“Impatient.”
“Cynical.” I speak over him, my fists clenching around the hose as more water spews out. “Snobby—”
