before. I don’t even recognize it at first, but after a moment I’m pretty convinced that it’s pride.
“President Sparks,” he says ceremoniously. “I like the way that sounds.”
He leans toward me, his dimple practically glowing. I feel myself being pulled into his gravity, his energy, his atmosphere.
Our lips touch just as I hear someone screech my name. It’s not a pleasant sound. It ranks somewhere up there next to nails on a chalkboard and metal grinding against metal.
Tristan and I both look up at once. Rhiannon Marshall is barreling down the hallway like a fireball in one of those highly unrealistic explosion scenes. This is the part where Tristan and I are supposed to start running so we can dive in slow motion under a car and avoid being blasted to bits.
But neither one of us moves.
“How dare you!” Rhiannon shrieks when she reaches me. “How dare you swoop in and steal my presidency.”
Tristan steps in front of me, opening his mouth to speak, but I gently push him aside. “I didn’t steal anything, Rhiannon,” I say calmly. “The students voted for me.”
“You sabotaged me. You rigged this election.”
Her accusation stuns me. “And exactly how did I do that?”
Her face turns every shade of red as she angrily fumbles for a comeback. “I may not have an answer to that right now, but trust me, there will be a full investigation. I will get to the bottom of this.”
I nod. “You do that. Let me know what you find out.” I close my locker door with a decisive slam and walk away.
Tristan jogs to catch up with me. “Don’t worry about Rhiannon. She’s all talk.”
“I’m not worried.”
“Where are you going?” Tristan asks. “Isn’t the locker room the other way?”
“To the auditorium,” I tell him. “The auditions for the school play are tomorrow. I’ve decided to sign up.”
Tristan sputters to a halt. “The play? But you hate singing in front of people.”
“Actually,” I say, stopping in front of the signup sheet and scribbling my name under the role of Maureen, “it turns out, I kind of like it.”
An alarm goes off on my phone. I check the screen and turn to Tristan. “I gotta run.”
He looks flustered. “What? Where are you going? Should I come with you?”
I shake my head. “That’s okay. I got this.”
He wraps his arm around my waist and pulls me toward him. “Should I come over later, then?” He’s using that seductive voice. The one that not only usually melts me, but melts all my resolve as well.
“You should get ready for your gig,” I point out, untangling myself from him. “I’ll see you at the carnival tonight, okay?”
Before he can respond, I’m already halfway down the hallway.
Wooly Bully
3:55 p.m.
By the time I pull into the parking lot of the middle school next door and hop out of my car, the buses have left and the parent pickup line has mostly emptied. I park the car and run to the side door of the building, the one I saw the girls exit from.
I carefully ease it open to find that it leads to the school’s security office, which is currently empty. Everyone must be at some kind of staff meeting. I hear whispers coming from the other end of the office and I quickly duck behind a file cabinet. A moment later, the girls are there. One of them—a tall brunette who is undoubtedly their leader—sits down at the desk and switches on the computer. I peer around the side of the cabinet to get a view of the monitor. She clicks the mouse a few times and suddenly a video feed of the soccer field is on the screen.
Security cameras.
The school must have them installed throughout the building.
There’s movement on the feed and the girls start to giggle. The leader shushes them and points to the screen. Quietly, I take my phone out of my pocket, pull up the video camera, and press Record.
“She’s walking onto the field now,” the leader says. “I told her that Avery would meet her out there in a few minutes. She thinks he wants to make out with her. Can you believe she actually thought someone like Avery Frahm would want to kiss her? She’s so freaking gullible.”
My blood boils as the girls burst into laughter.
This is what my sister has been dealing with? These horrible girls making her life miserable? No wonder she buries herself in those movies and books. She hasn’t only been turning to them for wisdom,