Heartache and Hope (Heartache Duet #1) - Jay McLean Page 0,4
and I’m falling forward, my shoes squeaking against the marble floor as I try to brace myself.
“Miss Diaz,” Mr. McCallister booms, his hand on my arm to help keep me upright. Heat forms in my cheeks as I quickly hand him the note. Around me: silence. Not a single word, not even a whisper. Mr. McCallister doesn’t bother reading the note; he simply places it on his desk and motions to the classroom. “Please swiftly find a seat so we can continue.”
My phone vibrates in the hidden pocket of my school skirt.
Ignore it.
But I can’t. I start to reach for it at the same time Mr. McCallister clears his throat. “Now, Miss Diaz.”
I swallow my nerves and glance up through my lashes. I can feel every set of eyes on me, but I refuse to meet them.
It’s a miracle my feet move at all, and they lead me to the only empty seat left in the room.
I drop my bag by the desk and climb into the chair, the lump in my throat the size of the random basketball by my feet.
Mr. McCallister turns his back, his focus already on writing down the semester’s syllabus on the whiteboard. It takes a second for the class to follow, fingers busy tap, tap, tapping on their keyboards.
“Hey,” a male voice whispers from next to me. I have no idea who he is, and I don’t look up when he says, “I’m Connor.”
I open my textbook to the first page, ignoring the dampness on the side of the pages from where I’d been gripping it.
“I’m new here…” my desk-mate says, his voice trailing as if waiting for a response.
In my mind, I say, “Hi, I’m Ava. Welcome to my personal hell. The only reason I’m here is because guilt forces me to be.”
Out loud, I say nothing.
Soon enough, he’ll know everything there is to know about me.
Chapter 3
Connor
The car didn’t stall once.
A miracle, really.
I got to school early this morning, about a half hour before I was supposed to be here. I thought it might help with the whole car situation. Not that I’m embarrassed by it, because I’m not. But you know what they say about first impressions. I didn’t want to go into the year being “that kid.”
It was pointless, though. One car in the parking lot, one kid on campus. Put two and two together, and you get my dumb ass.
I spent some time on the court alone, getting used to the hardwood that would become my playground for the next year. About twenty minutes in, my new teammates started to show.
Rhys, the team captain, was the first to greet me. His lackey, Mitch, was next, and then the rest of the guys. Everyone but Rhys seemed more interested in my car than in me, and when Rhys told them to quit raggin’ on me, they didn’t listen.
The first official practice of the season sucked. I’d spent so many hours during the summer learning the plays and memorizing my positions. I thought I had it down. I was wrong, so fucking wrong. I lagged. Hard. Balls flew past my head faster than I could catch them, names were called, threats were made. And that was just from Coach Sykes. Besides Rhys, no one said a word to me in the locker room afterward. This was all before the first bell, and my introduction to the shitty elite side of St. Luke’s Academy.
And then first period started, psychology, and things just went downhill from there. No one sat next to me, and other than a few girls with coy smiles, I was ignored.
Then she walked in, like a baby bird leaving its nest for the first time—a discombobulation of limbs flapping around. Thing is—after the morning I had—I thought people would laugh at her, but no one did. Maybe because things were taken more seriously off the court, or maybe it was because the girl was crazy hot; all naturally tanned skin and legs upon legs beneath her school-issued skirt, and I never thought I’d have a kink for the whole school-girl uniform thing, but hey…
She made an entrance, that’s for sure, or maybe it was just me that was paying attention. Maybe a little too much attention. She sat next to me, the only available seat… and said and did nothing. Even when I calmed my thoughts enough to introduce myself… nothing. While the entire class was busy taking notes, she stared ahead, picking at the desktop with her fingernail.