Most Likely (Most Likely #1) - Sarah Watson Page 0,13
a crowd? Did she sometimes get sad for no reason?
Ava was immersed in her work when the classroom door flew open and broke her concentration. A flustered Logan Diffenderfer walked in. “Hey. Sorry. Sorry. I didn’t know where the art classroom was. Am I in the right place?”
Mrs. Simon looked up. “Yes. Can I help you with something?”
Logan held up a note. “Yeah. I’m supposed to be in this class now. I guess it was the only first-period class with room.”
Mrs. Simon walked over and took his note. After a second, she nodded. “Welcome to Advanced Art, Mr. Diffenderfer. There’s an empty spot up front.”
She directed him to the only open easel in the classroom. The one right next to Ava.
“Turn right in fifty meters.”
The electronic voice of CJ’s GPS belonged to a British woman.
CJ was annoyed by the accent, but she would be late if she stopped to mess around with her phone settings. The British woman was a gift from Martha. CJ had been up late the night before studying for their physics quiz, and she’d been so tired that she fell asleep during fifth period. Hard enough that she didn’t even notice when Martha used her thumb to unlock her phone. While CJ continued napping, Martha changed all of CJ’s settings. She’d meant for it to be funny, and on any other day, CJ probably would have laughed—she certainly deserved it after that whole air horn thing—but she’d cried instead. Martha was so stunned that she immediately apologized and changed everything back. But she’d apparently forgotten about the British woman.
“Keep left at the car park,” said the regal voice.
The e-mail from the college counselor had broken her. She was already worried that she wasn’t good enough for Stanford even before Ms. Fischer’s message arrived in her in-box.
Stanford had been her top choice for as long as she could remember. It was a campus dappled in golden light and lined with palm trees, where nobody laughed when you said you wanted to change the world. They encouraged big ideas, loud ones, disruptive ones. The kind that CJ kept locked deep inside her because she was too scared to say them out loud. She wanted to do something with her life that would matter. Something bigger and more important than painting protest signs and recycling her milk carton. She just didn’t know how. Stanford would give her the tools. It would also give her the credibility to use them. She would never feel like a fraud again.
“In one hundred meters, you will arrive at your destination.”
The destination was the office for Sensational Recreational, an after-school program that taught sports to kids with physical disabilities.
“In fifty meters, you will arrive at your destination,” said the British voice.
CJ was ten minutes early. She should put that on her Stanford application. Always punctual. She reminded herself that the volunteer coordinator had e-mailed her almost immediately after she’d sent her résumé. He’d been impressed by her cover letter. Because that’s the kind of girl she was. The kind who was on time and wrote exceptional cover letters. So what if her SATs were a little lackluster? Even Hermione Granger stumbled from time to time.
“You have arrived at your destination,” the British voice said, and CJ realized that it actually sounded like a grown-up Hermione. It gave CJ confidence. She pulled into the parking lot and paused before getting out of her car. She was going to get this volunteer job and impress Stanford with how beautifully well-rounded she was. But first she needed to Hermione Granger the shit out of this interview. She took a breath, exhaled, and adjusted her posture a bit. This was a thing she did when she was talking to anyone important. Shoulders back, head high, confident smile, and…
She walked across the parking lot and opened the rec center door. A blast of music greeted her.
Duh. Duh, duh, duh.
It was the music from Rocky and it was so loud that CJ actually cringed. Was she in the right place? A sign tacked to the back wall told her that she was.
A guy about her age sat behind the front desk doing some paperwork. He clearly hadn’t heard CJ arrive over the music. His shaggy brown hair fell over his face as he worked. CJ said hello in her most professional voice.
When he looked up, CJ found that she was staring into a pair of brown eyes that were more mature than the shaggy brown hair suggested.