Page 8 of I Hope This Doesn't Find
“No, of course not.” I often go to sleep later than that, but there’s no reason to raise alarm. And the last thing I need is for this to devolve into a conversation about my unhealthy sleeping habits. I just want to know if my answer was correct or not. “For question six . . .”
“The textbook was wrong,” he tells me. “Don’t worry, Sadie, your calculations were completely right. The answer should have been ninety-two. I’ll make a note of it in class, though I doubt anyone else except Julius has even touched the bonus questions.”
The textbook was wrong.The most beautiful arrangement of words to ever exist. It’s like someone’s injected sunlight directly into my veins. I’m so relieved, so euphoric, that I don’t even mind the mention of Julius.
“Oh my god, that’s amazing,” I say, completely sincere for once. “That’s— Thank you so much, Mr. Kaye. I redid my calculations so many times; I tried, like, eight different methods—”
“I’ll bet you did,” he says, and this time the corners of his lips rise too, with mild amusement. “Was that all?”
“Yes,” I babble, my face splitting into a beam. “Yes, thanks again. You have no idea—this just made my entire day.”
I’m still beaming as I head back, my high bun bouncing, my footsteps light. So maybe the morning was off to a bit of a rough start. That’s fine. Things are good now.
I don’t even mind the fact that the classroom situation has deteriorated further, or that Rosie and her friends have pushed back a few of the tables—including mine—to shoot a video of themselves spinning on the spot for god knows what reason. I simply wait until they’re done and rearrange the tables myself.
“Your mood changed fast,” Abigail says, seeing my face. “Did Mr. Kaye give you a cash prize or something?”
“Even better: The textbook was wrong.” I let out a happy sigh. “I was right.”
When I take my seat again, I notice, dimly, that my laptop seems to be in a different position. I pause, frowning. I could have sworn I’d lowered the screen almost all the way down, not just halfway. But then Ms. Rachel returns with important information for our upcoming test, and I forget everything else. I’m too focused on planning out my next move to beat Julius.
Sometimes your body knows before your mind does.
My skin tingles all the way to the school café at lunch, even though I can’t place a finger onwhy. On the surface, everything is the same: the crisp chill in the air, the students lining up outside for warm bagels and hot chocolate, blowing into their hands and wrapping their blue-and-white scarves tighter around their necks while they wait.
But something’s different. Something’s changed.
“Do you feel that?” I ask Abigail as we join the back of the line. The sun has climbed higher in the sky, throwing wide swaths of golden light over the courtyard.
“Feel what?”
“I don’t know,” I murmur, glancing around me. My eyes lock with some girl from a lower year level. Her gaze lingers on my face a beat, as if in confirmation, before she twists her head away and whispers something to her friend, her hand covering her mouth.It’s not about you, I tell myself.There’s literally no reason why they’d be talking about you.But a sick feeling spreads over my rib cage. “I just . . . feel like people are staring.”
“Maybe it’s because of how gorgeous we are.” Abigail tosses her glossy hair over her shoulder. “I would stare at us too.”
“Your confidence is inspiring,” I say, “but somehow, I doubt that’s it . . .”
We shuffle forward, and it happens again. Another girl catches my eye, then pointedly looks in the other direction.
“Well, darling, youareschool captain,” Abigail says. “People are going to notice you, right? I thought you’d be used to it by now.”
And people do notice me. It’s why I campaigned so hard to be elected school captain in the first place, why I’ve thrown myself into delivering speeches at assembly and sending out mass reminders about fundraising events and conducting student surveys the principal only pretends to read. Well, that, and because I knew it would look great on my Berkeley application, and because I’d heard that Julius was running for captain, and anything he did I had to do as well. But right now people are doing more thannoticing.In my peripheral vision, I see someone I’ve never spoken to before point straight at me.
“Okay,” I say, my uneasiness growing. “Maybe I’m being paranoid, but I seriously think—”
“What thehell?”
I whip around to find Rosie, of all people, storming up to us. No, tome.Her eyes are narrowed, her phone gripped in one hand. She’s only five foot one, so tiny that our classmates sometimes like to lift her up for fun, but there’s nothing small or delicate about her as she plants herself firmly to the ground in front of me.
My mind goes blank. All I can think is:What is happening?
“Is there, like, something you want to say to my face?” she asks, her voice hard, accusing. “Do you have a problem with me, Sadie?”
“What?” I stare at her. The gears in my head are still turning frantically, trying to produce a single reason why Rosie would go from calling me a saint to acting like I’ve just run over her dog within the span of two classes. Is this about the notes? Had she wanted them earlier? But it can’t just be that. Up close, her lips are quivering, all the muscles in her jaw clenched.“I don’t— Of course not. I don’t have any problem with you—”
“I thought you were nice.” She’s speaking louder and louder, her features animated with rage. “And even if you did have beef with me, you should’ve told mein privatebefore blasting it out to everyone.”
A hush has fallen over the courtyard, heads turning to watch.
