cheerleading squad. “Are you sure I’ll fit in?”
He stopped walking and used his free hand to cup my cheek. “You fit in wherever I am.”
My stomach practically vibrated with the force of the butterflies there, and all I could manage was a smile. He grinned back—the second-best use of his lips, aside from kissing me.
Walking with him in the hall was like being royalty. People waved at us as we walked by. They said hello, acknowledged us. Suddenly, I felt like I’d stepped from behind the backstage curtains into the center of the spotlight.
I didn’t mind, not with Beckett holding my hand.
We reached the lunch line and walked alongside each other, collecting our meals. I stepped up to the register to swipe my card, but when the woman ran it through the machine, she frowned.
“I’m going to have to make some substitutions,” she said.
“Substitutions?” My eyebrows came together. “It’s not like I took the displays or anything.”
She shook her head. “Sorry, sweetie. New program calls for some healthier swaps.” She picked up my basket of French fries, soda, and hamburger, then walked away.
I turned to Beckett to see if he had any idea what was going on, but he just shook his head. The tray in front of him held almost the same food I’d had, but it wasn’t getting taken away.
The line was starting to pile up behind me, and my ears were feeling hot. What was going on?
The woman came back and set a basket of carrot sticks, a diet soda, and a grilled chicken patty with lettuce, tomato, and onion on my plate.
I stared at the food, dumbfounded. “What’s this?”
“It’s the new program. Here.” She pulled a slip from under the register and handed it to me. “I hate to rush you, hon, but can you step to the side? We’ve got a line building up.”
Numbly, I moved away from the register with the food that was definitely not mine and stared at the paper.
Dear Emerson Academy Student,
Our new initiative, hEAlthy students, is allowing us to partner with parents to ensure our student body receives the nutrition they need. The parents opting their children into the program can choose to have their students eat from a modified, low-fat, low-sugar, and low-sodium menu. On the back of this page is a list of hEAlthy items you can choose for lunch. If you or your parents have any questions, you may address them to me.
Healthfully,
Mrs. Hutton
9-12 Health and Human Body
Emerson Academy
“What’s that?” Beckett asked.
I just shook my head, blinking back angry tears. It was too embarrassing to say out loud. How could my mom have overstepped her bounds by so much? I understood the control at home—she bought the food, and she prepared it most of the time—but in school, in front of everyone?
“Show me,” Beckett said.
It didn’t matter that we were still by the condiment table or that people were staring at us. I handed him the orange note.
As his eyes panned over my mother’s letter, I steeled myself. It might as well happen now—Beckett realizing that he was entirely out of my league, that he belonged with someone who didn’t need a specially designed menu or birth control pills to get their hormones in check. There had to be at least one girl out there with a good personality and a waistline smaller than his.
“This is crazy,” Beckett said, looking upset. “Can she do that?”
My mouth fell open. That was the last thing I’d expected to hear from him.
“Sorry,” he rushed out. “I know she’s your mom...it’s just...you didn’t know about this, right? It seems unfair to do it at all, but to spring this on you...I’m sorry.”
I hugged him, awkwardly holding my tray away from me so I didn’t spill my stupid “hEAlthy” meal all over him. Tears were growing in my eyes, a blend of anger and gratitude and pure affection for this wonderful human who, for whatever reason, liked me.
He smiled down at me. “What’s that for?”
I sighed and stepped back. “For being perfect.”
He chuckled, and we started our walk toward the table he usually frequented. My chest still hurt from what felt like a betrayal from my mom, but I tried to put on a smile for Beckett.
“Make some room,” he said to a couple of guys from the football team.
Merritt glared down the table. “She’s not sitting with us, is she?”
Beckett lifted his chin. “She’s more welcome here than you are.”
Her mouth fell open and closed before she finally stood up, followed