by Tiana Smith
“You’re both in detention because you were disrespectful to a teacher?” he asked.
Robyn snorted. “Mrs. Patterson kept calling Africa a country, and Mia corrected her in front of the class. I backed her up, because hello, it’s a continent. Mrs. Patterson got defensive. How is that our fault?”
Mr. Cho’s lip quivered like he was holding back a laugh. He motioned for us to take a seat but otherwise didn’t give us any instructions on how we were to spend our time, so we pulled out our lunches. It made no difference to me whether we ate here or in the cafeteria, as long as I had time to convince Robyn to set me up with Vince. Homecoming was only two weeks away. Time was running out before he found another date.
“So about Vince,” I said.
Robyn sighed. “Okay,” she said. “I know that nothing I say is going to convince you. So I’m giving you some homework.”
I set my drink on the table. “I think I’ve got enough of that already, thank you very much.”
She kept talking like I’d never even said anything.
“You say you like logic, yeah? So write a pros-and-cons list.” She pointed a finger at me. “Compare Vince and Logan. You know I’m right; you just need to see it.”
Fat chance. But I’d do it to appease her. I picked up my sandwich and took a big bite.
But then Logan walked in and I stopped mid-chew.
Had Logan gotten detention simply so he could taunt me some more? That would be just like him. Or maybe Robyn had tipped him off, believing herself to be “helping.” That would be just like her, too. I glanced at my friend, accusation written on my face. But she held up her hands in the universal it wasn’t me gesture, and I guessed I believed her. Logan probably had detention a lot—he wasn’t exactly known for being a great student. Yet another reason why we were total opposites and Robyn was way off in thinking we’d be a good match. And something for Logan’s con list.
Logan handed his slip to Mr. Cho, who read it and frowned.
“You were late, again?”
Logan nodded once, causing his shaggy hair to fall into his eyes. He brushed it aside with a hand, saw me, and grinned.
Mr. Cho sighed. “Have a seat.”
Logan pulled up a chair, situating himself to my left, across from Robyn. His arm brushed mine, and I pretended not to notice.
“Let me guess,” Logan said. “You got detention for”—he pursed his lips as if he were deep in thought—“dog-earing a page in a library book.”
I shook my head but didn’t say anything. My reason for being here actually wasn’t much worse than that. Which meant I was all kinds of lame, even if I’d been proud of getting detention earlier. I really needed to get a life.
He leaned back in his chair and studied me. “No hints? Okay, did you finish an assignment early and read a book when you were supposed to be working?”
It was kind of scary how well Logan knew me, which was probably how he could push my buttons so easily.
I shook my head and took another bite of my sandwich. Robyn was watching this whole exchange with entirely too much interest, so I kicked her under the table. She didn’t even flinch; she just smirked.
Logan raised his eyebrows and leaned forward on an elbow. “You mean you actually did something … wrong?” He shook his head.
“She corrected a teacher,” Robyn said, throwing a potato chip at my head. “Shocking, I know.”
Logan laughed, and I resisted the urge to kick Robyn again.
“Well, what about you, Mr. Hotshot?” I asked him. “Why were you late?”
He lowered his voice and whispered dramatically, “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
This caused goose bumps to rise along my arms, but I ignored the sensation. Logan was up to his usual tricks again, and it got to me. Robyn might call it flirting, but I knew it for what it really was. Logan simply liked his games, and I was an easy target. I’d never seen Logan not behave like this toward me—which made it that much more difficult to believe he was acting out of any secret feelings he harbored. Who liked one person for that long?
I inspected the person beside me, curious as to why my best friend would think we were a good match. Sure, he was good-looking, I guess, if you were into that artsy creative look (which I wasn’t). He had dimples (which, okay, were kind of cute), but he also had messy brown hair that hung over his eyes (which made him look like he had just rolled out of bed—so not my style). His olive skin gave off the impression of a year-round tan, which I’d always been jealous of (not that I’d ever admit it).
He had a tall and lean frame, but that wasn’t what I typically went for in guys. At all. Robyn knew that. I usually liked them muscular like Vince, whose chiseled abs could shred cheese. I’d give him one thing. Logan did have nice eyes. They were kind of a chocolate color, with lighter specks in them. Not that I was looking at his eyes or anything.
I startled when someone knocked on the classroom window. Elena and Vince peered through the glass, their faces distorted in the old pane.
As one, Logan, Robyn, and I looked at Mr. Cho to see his reaction. Mr. Cho glanced up, shrugged, and went back to reading Better Homes and Gardens.
Before he could change his mind, I jumped up from my seat and went to the window, cracking it open.
“What are you guys doing here?” I asked them, pushing against the window to see if it would open any farther.
“Providing sustenance,” Vince said, passing two ice-cream sandwiches through the frame. “Sorry, man,” he called to Logan. “Didn’t know you were in here, too, or we’d have brought more.”
I clutched the sandwiches to my chest, forgetting momentarily that this was probably not the best course of action for frozen treats. Looking over at Robyn, I tried to telepathically make her recognize the better match here. I mean, nice boy who rescued me from the principal, bought me ice cream, and had an amazing soccer body, or trouble boy who landed in detention and probably wouldn’t want to go to homecoming even if it meant supporting a school event? It was an easy decision, one that Vince won hands-down.
But either my best-friend telepathy wasn’t working, or Robyn chose to ignore it. She popped a potato chip in her mouth and crunched it loudly.
“I’m good,” she said. “Logan can have mine.” But Logan shook his head, too, so I was left holding two slightly squishy ice-cream sandwiches.
“And we came to bust you out of here,” Elena said, stretching up on her toes to better lean in through the window frame. “Come on, Mr. Cho, you know they aren’t hardened criminals. What do you say?”
Elena did her best innocent pout, the expression she’d perfected so much that it would one day be her ticket to Hollywood.
Mr. Cho pursed his lips. Eventually he sighed, placed his magazine on the desk, and stood up. The thrill of victory coursed through my veins.
“I don’t want to be here, either. All of you go enjoy the rest of lunch,” he said, glancing between the three of us. “But I get the extra ice-cream sandwich.”
He was releasing Logan also. But why? If anyone deserved to be here, it was Logan for repeatedly being late.
I guessed it didn’t really matter. I still got out of detention. Plus, I’d gotten a free ice-cream sandwich out of the deal, which was a bonus. I’d experienced my rite of passage and was now free to crush on the beautiful boy bearing gifts. It was a win-win in my book. Of course, now that we’d be hanging out with Vince, I couldn’t exactly talk to Robyn about him. I’d have to find another time to convince her to set us up. It wasn’t like I’d forget about it, and the clock was ticking.
Robyn scowled at me as she picked up her lunch—maybe she’d finally caught on to my telepathy—but it lacked any real sting. I handed the extra ice-cream sandwich off to Mr. Cho and tore open the wrapper on mine, taking a celebratory bite.
Logan hadn’t unpacked anything, so he simply grabbed his bag from off the floor and slung it over one shoulder.
“Catch you later,” he said as he passed me. “Might eve
n be sooner than you think.”
Then he walked away, not looking back.
three
The weekend was calling my name. I just had to get through journalism first. After the excitement of detention, the rest of my day had been tedious, and I was looking forward to vegging out in front of Netflix all night. I walked through the classroom door and stopped dead in my tracks. Elena bumped into me from behind.
“What’s he doing here?” I asked, nodding in the direction of the back corner.
“Logan?” Elena said. “I don’t know. It’s a little late in the year to change schedules.”
So this was what Logan had been hinting at. I smelled a fish, and that fish had Robyn’s name written all over it. Sure, she supposedly didn’t set people up without their permission, but there’s a first time for everything.
I didn’t say anything else as I navigated my way to my seat and opened my notebook. Elena plopped her books on the table next to me, and together we stared at the person who dared intrude on our happy journalism family.
Robyn swept in at the last minute, claiming the seat to my left and dropping her books on the table with a loud thump. This was one reason journalism was my favorite class—it was the only one Robyn, Elena, and I had together.
“All right, everybody, listen up!” Mr. Quince called from the front of the classroom. “I’d like you all to welcome Logan to the team. He’ll be the new photographer for the Athens High Herald.”
From where he stood, leaning against the wall, Logan gave a small wave in acknowledgment. Did he even read the paper?
“Spencer bit off more than he could chew with his AP classes, so he had to leave our staff. You guys have no idea how hard it was to find a photographer who also had a free eighth period, so please be nice to him.”
Well, that explained a few things. But Spencer wasn’t just the photographer—he also wrote for the sports section. I wondered who Mr. Quince would bully into taking on an additional article. Our teacher stood impatiently at the front of the class, his eyebrows raised in a silent question. “Well, any takers on the sports column?”
I pictured Vince in his soccer shorts, and I couldn’t help but smile in appreciation.
“I like sports, sir,” I said, raising my hand.
He didn’t hesitate. “Good. You’ll cover Spencer’s column. There’s a game tomorrow night. Don’t miss it.”
He cleared his throat. “Now for a bit of bad news,” Mr. Quince said. “Or good, if you’re a glass-half-full kind of person. But circulation has been somewhat down this year, and the school is debating whether the cost of running a high school paper is worth it. They’re considering getting rid of the paper or drastically cutting down on the number of issues. Most of our readers are online, which doesn’t cost to print, but cutting back would mean they wouldn’t have to pay me as much for formatting and editing, and the funds could go toward the football team.”
I wondered how this could possibly be considered good news, and judging from the confused looks going on around me, I wasn’t the only one. If they shut down the paper, Mr. Quince would still have a job as our teacher, but I already knew the journalism basics he taught at the beginning of each class. I took this course for the real-life paper experience. I was counting on the fact that college newspapers looked for that kind of thing. And the sporadic class assignments Mr. Quince handed out unrelated to the paper weren’t enough to get me that.
“I need your creativity now more than ever. Please let me know if you have any ideas on how to increase readership of our paper or ways to convince the administration of the efficacy of our program. I’m working on creating a contest and will let you know when I have more details. For now, keep up the good work.”
Mr. Quince clapped his hands twice. “No lesson today. Work on the inverted pyramid method in your next pieces. The next paper goes to bed by eleven on Saturday, so don’t dawdle, people.” Everyone went back to their individual projects, looking unfazed. Except for me. Without the high school paper, could I still get scholarships? How could I get on a college paper without experience? And how come no one was acting nearly as concerned as I felt?
Joey drummed his fingers on the table as he walked by. “Now you’re doing sports?” he asked me. Everything was a joke to him, which was appropriate, since he drew the comics for the newspaper. “I know you love journalism and all, but you don’t even like sports.”
“Plus you already write an opinion piece and do the daily videos for school announcements,” Robyn added. She liked to take Joey’s side, no matter what argument he was making. I blamed his green eyes. Robyn had a thing for those.
I slumped back in my chair.
“Well, it’s not like the video announcements really count as reporting,” I said. Sure, they got me comfortable in front of a camera, but I didn’t want to be a television reporter. I wanted to be a journalist, writing the news stories that really mattered. I couldn’t tell them I’d volunteered only so I could see Vince play, though. It was too embarrassing.
Joey left and Robyn watched him go. Logan came over to where we sat. He pulled a chair from a nearby table and sat on it backward, his arms folded across the back as he smiled at me.
“So,” he said, drawing out the word.
“So?” I repeated. I refused to look over at Robyn. She was so off base in thinking Logan flirted with me. Taunted sounded more accurate to me.
“It looks like you’ll be covering the soccer game tomorrow night.”
“Looks like it.”
He pulled a black gel pen out of his pocket. I barely had time to register surprise when he reached across the table, took my hand, and started writing on my palm.
“Hey! What do you think you’re doing?” I asked, trying to pull my arm away.
“Careful, you don’t want to mess it up,” he said, holding tight. The pen tickled my palm and I tried not to laugh. After all, I was supposed to be angry, and laughing kind of spoiled the effect.
“You done yet?” I asked.
In answer, he let go of my wrist and capped the pen. My hand tingled where he had held it, and I quickly pulled it back, inspecting his work. His name and phone number covered my palm. Well, that was just great.
“Is this your weird way of asking me out?” I asked, staring at my hand. I was so going to chew Robyn out for this later. She’d probably told him to up his game. Robyn busied herself to my left, flipping between notebooks like she wasn’t paying attention to us at all.
“No. Is that your way of saying you want me to?”
Logan smirked, and I balled up my other hand into a fist, but he pulled away before I could hit his shoulder. He held up his hands in surrender.
“We’ll have to work together on your sports piece. You can call me to let me know what shots you’ll need.”
“Couldn’t you just email me some standard soccer pictures from the game?” I said. “You know, players kicking the ball and stuff.”
“Where’s the fun in that?” he asked. Then he stood up with a smirk, pushed his chair back under the table, and walked away.
I still refused to look at Robyn. Instead I glanced over at Elena, who was watching me with one eyebrow raised.
“What?” I asked, daring her to comment.
“I think someone likes you,” she said in a singsong voice. Robyn laughed and tried to turn it into a cough.
“And I think the whiteboard-marker fumes are going to your head,” I said. “We have to work together for the article, that’s all.”
I was doing damage control, because Elena ran the gossip column. Since she was on student council, she knew a lot of the issues going on around the school. Plus drama and gossip kind of came hand in hand, so it made sense. I didn’t need her starting any rumors and ruining my chances with Vince, though. Logically, he was still my best bet for homecoming.
Logan and I were more likely to be voted “polar opposites” in the school yearbook than “cutest couple.” Even if we survived the dance, it could ne
ver go anywhere after that. Besides, I didn’t need a slacker date who’d show up late with bedhead, which seemed like something Logan would do. If he went to the dance at all. It’d be best to ignore him altogether.
“Uh-huh,” Elena said. “Then why don’t I see him giving his number to anyone else?”
“Told you so,” Robyn said. Even the way she flipped through her notebook looked smug.
“You’re delusional,” I said to them both. They let the conversation drop, but occasionally I’d see Elena making kissy faces at me and looking pointedly in Logan’s direction. It was like she wanted to stir up trouble, which, now that I thought about it, was pretty typical.
Robyn worked on her Dear Robyn column while I plotted ways to kill her in her sleep. If she’d convinced Logan to pull that stunt with the gel pen, I’d put those fourth-grade talent-show pictures in next week’s paper. Who knew, maybe it’d help with newspaper circulation and solve the problem of discontinuing our paper.
Most everyone was busy working on their articles for tomorrow’s deadline—in addition to the other weekly nights, Mr. Quince came in on Saturdays to submit the next issue to the printer—but I’d already finished my opinion piece. So, I used my class time as productively as possible (doodling in my notebook and planning what dress would best match Vince’s eyes). The more I thought about the prospect of homecoming with Vince, the more excited I got.
A few minutes minutes before class ended, I heard Mr. Quince call my name.
“Mia, don’t you have to leave for announcements?”
I jerked my head from my hand and stood up so fast, my chair fell over. I was late. The last five minutes of each school day were reserved for school announcements, and it would take me a while to make it to the office. Tania, the girl who did them with me, was probably breathing into a brown paper bag by now. I grabbed my books and ran out of the room.
A teacher in the hall gave me an odd look as I tore past, my shoes slapping against the linoleum. At least I’d worn flats. I rounded the corner and hurtled into the office, nearly bowling over the receptionist.