9781250209153

I straighten my back, keeping my eyes hard on her. “This was part of the
deal.”
Irene stands tall, holding her ground. “If you can’t bend on this one
thing, the deal is off. You don’t get to treat me like some escort for hire. I
understand that to you I’m just some ‘hot girl’ with social capital, and for
the most part, I’ve let you get away with that, but this is too far. I’m a
person with feelings and boundaries. Get your head out of your ass and
respect that, or we’re done.”
She wrenches the door open and sweeps out of the room, and I’m left
standing in her wake, completely dazed.
Irene and I give each other a wide berth after that. We hardly acknowledge
each other and she stops coming to my practices, prompting the Cleveland
triplets to grill me about our “trouble in paradise.”
The week leading into Thanksgiving break arrives with a flurry of tests
and project deadlines. Rain lashes down, darkening the sky outside our
school windows, and the ancient tree behind the library is stripped of its
vibrant red leaves. It’s our first glimpse of winter branches, bare and
clawlike.
The Thursday before break starts, we’re in Scuttlebaum’s class, whiling
away the minutes as the rain pelts against the window. Danielle is sketching
new basketball plays on the corner of her notebook. Gino’s on the opposite
side of the room, flicking paper footballs every time Scuttlebaum turns her
back. Irene is sitting with her head in her hand, picking at her nail polish
and staunchly avoiding my eyes.
Scuttlebaum is prattling on about her favorite show, The Masked Singer,
when she abruptly switches gears and grabs a stack of papers off her desk.
“I’ve got your homework graded,” she announces. “Scottie, here.”
Scuttlebaum never says Please pass these out. She just gestures vaguely
and says Here.
I take the stack of papers obligingly and start to pass them around the
room. That’s when I notice Charlotte Pascal trading a note with her friend
Symphony Davis. They’re scrawling furiously back and forth.