Page 156 - My FlipBook

L IS A J. L A W R E N C E

each waving banner one drip closer to insanity. And this one
would stink of Rachel and her cronies.
Ash and Greta leaned against the wall by the gym office,
not far from the exit. Greta focused on the feet lining the base
of the bleachers, shoes of every shape and color. The last time
she’d sat in the gym and watched Dylan and Matt play, every-
thing had been different. Now her eyes swept the bleachers,
checking for Rachel twirling her black hair. There, in the top

row, on the opposite side of the gym, Rachel sat with Sam,
Priya, Chloe and some new faces. If things had been different—
if Greta had been different—Greta would be there too.
Her eyes fell on a couple sitting in the bleachers to
her right, their backs to her. A big guy dressed all in black
stretched his arm around the waist of a girl with a bleached-
blond pixie cut, his thumb hanging from her waistband. Then ADVANCE READING COPY

he slipped it under the bottom of her shirt, against her bare
skin. She smiled tightly, twisted away from him and gave him
a look. Greta tried to read the look from the girl’s profile.
Not here, it said. Maybe Not at all? He didn’t move his hand
though. The purple-punch feeling trickled through Greta.
She couldn’t look away.
The principal strode to the middle of the gym with a
cordless mic and called for quiet, breaking Greta’s trance.
After talking for a minute about the team’s successes through

the season, he announced they would start the rally with
a students-versus-teachers shoot-off. The basketball team
jumped from their bench, hooting, arms bare in their jerseys.
A few teachers trickled onto the court—the sacrificial lambs.

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