The Backup Girlfriend (Grove Valley High #2) - Emma Doherty Page 0,65
expression for the first time, and he comes to a stop beside me. “What’s wrong?”
I shrug. “Sarah and I just broke up.”
“Sarah Billington? Your best friend?”
“Former best friend.”
“Girls are weird.”
I don’t have much to say to that as he looks at me for another couple of seconds. Then he pulls his backpack off his back and starts rummaging around in it before pulling out a candy bar and holding it out to me.
“What’s that for?”
He shrugs. “Candy makes everyone feel better.”
A quick grin spreads across my face. I reach for it but then stop myself, remembering those couple of extra pounds I’ve put on.
“Thanks, but I can’t. I’m on a diet.”
He scoffs, reaches for my hand, and shoves the candy bar in it. “Eat the damn candy bar, Abigail.”
“But—”
“Don’t give me the diet bullshit. You couldn’t look bad if you tried.”
And then he brushes past me, leaving me staring after him in his wake, all thoughts of Sarah completely gone.
Did Brett Sanderson, the guy who has to be the least impressed by me ever, just give me a compliment?
Wow. Wonders never cease.
20
I’m in the library after school playing on my phone and waiting for Brett to show up. I’m tired and cranky from a full day of classes and have just had to sit through ten minutes of Coach lecturing me about how it’s my own fault I’m in this position in the first place, even if she did reluctantly congratulate me on the success of my bake sale, which sold even more this past week. Even so, strangely, I’m actually looking forward to seeing Brett.
Now that I know him a little more, I’ve realized he doesn’t look down on me at all. He’s patient, but not a pushover. He pushes me with my studies more than anyone else has, but every time he does, I surprise myself by wanting to push and help myself too. It’s a pretty nice feeling.
And I kinda like the way he looks at life too. Like that stuff about doing what you want and not caring about other people judging you? That really resonated with me. I want to start working on living my life like that.
“Hey.” I look up and see him standing over me.
“Hey.” I slide my books over so there’s more space for his, but he doesn’t make a move to sit down.
“I’m sorry, work called and asked me to cover this afternoon. I can’t do this today.”
“Oh.” That’s disappointing. This is the only day this week that we’ve scheduled in the afternoon and not in the morning. “Okay.”
“I’m sorry.”
“That’s okay. I can just work from home. Are we still on for tomorrow morning?”
“Oh, you’re not going—I got someone to cover for me.”
“Huh?”
“I really need you to be practicing those calculus equations, and if you do them by yourself, there’ll be no one there to check them and make sure you’re actually doing them.”
“What?” He’s gotten someone else to babysit me while I study?
“I got someone else,” he repeats impatiently. “She should be here any minute.”
“Who?”
A smile breaks out on his face as he looks across the room. “Hey, thanks for this.”
I turn to see who he’s looking at, and my stomach sinks when I spot the person making her way over to us.
Hallie.
Hallie Jenson. Captain of the girls soccer team, Livy’s good friend, and the girl I called out as a lesbian in front of a bunch of people months ago because I was so messed up about myself and my life and losing Chase that I lashed out at someone who didn’t deserve it just to try to make myself feel better.
The shame still burns in my gut.
“Thanks for this,” Brett says as she gets closer, completely oblivious to my discomfort. “We were working on page 210 in her textbook, and you just need to make sure she’s following all the steps so she gets to the right answer. She has a tendency to skip ahead.”
Hallie nods, and Brett disappears with a wave of his hand.
I wish I could just sink into the ground.
Hallie clears her throat. “Hi Abigail.”
“Hi Hallie.”
She pulls out the chair next to me and slides into it as I sink farther down into mine.
She reaches for her own textbook and opens it, presumably to the page Brett mentioned, before pulling out her own notebook and pen. “Should we get started?”
“You don’t have to do this,” I tell her miserably, not even looking at her. I’ve avoided Hallie like the plague the last couple of months.