anything.”
He tapped the steering wheel in time to his music. “I guess.”
“The reason it worked was because I left the threat to his imagination. Will I mess with his locker, or his report card, or his college transcript? Impossible to know. What we imagine is usually far more intimidating than reality. Psychological warfare.”
“So you psyched him out. Personally I prefer just going at it.”
“What?” My head jerked up and I leaned forward. I’d been distracted by idly wondering what it might be like to have his hands on the back of my neck, or lifting my chin to angle for a kiss. Thoughts I had no business thinking about a Notable, particularly one who was going to date Chelsea (again), marry her, and show up to the ten-year reunion with their perfect six-month-old baby.
“Fighting,” he clarified. “A few good hits on the ice and I feel much better.”
I imagined launching myself at Alex in the cafeteria, fists clenched. I bet I could have done some damage … before I was dragged to the infirmary.
“I’m a pretty good fighter,” I commented. “I had to learn to throw a punch or I’d always be stuck watching Monday Night Football.”
“Older siblings?” Logan asked, and it hit me just how little we actually knew about each other.
“Younger brother. Dylan. Plays quarterback at the middle school and idolizes any guy who wears pads.”
Logan considered that for a second. “Skinny? Reddish hair?”
I stared at him. “Yeah.”
He shrugged. “Good kid. I coached him at a sports camp over the summer. Listens to instructions.”
“Your instructions, maybe,” I said. “He doesn’t exactly fall over himself to do me any favors. Although, he was pretty great last night when I got the call from …”
I let my sentence dribble out as it finally hit me what was missing: the press. I had spent the entire day fearing the questions of doggedly persistent reporters, but there wasn’t anyone around. I’d had literally fifteen minutes of fame before becoming old news.
“They’re gone!” I could have floated the rest of the way to Logan’s house.
“Who is?”
“The newspaper and television people. They all cleared out.” I leaned back in my seat with a sigh of relief. “I can go back to being a nobody. Wonderful.” I wasn’t even being sarcastic.
Logan pulled into his long, elegant driveway—his whole life was surreally perfect. “You want to be ignored?” he asked incredulously.
“Well, yeah,” I said, stating the obvious. “If the choice is between being ignored or being ridiculed and body checked in the cafeteria line, it’s not exactly a tough call.”
“What about a third option?”
I just stared at him. “We go to the same high school, right? For me, there is no third option, which is why I’m studying so hard for college.” Logan didn’t say anything as we got out of the car. “What are your plans?” I asked curiously.
“College. Somewhere. My parents want me to check out their alma mater, USC , but I’m not sure it’s for me.”
I nodded. “It’s weird, isn’t it? The way adults expect us to have it all figured out. Once I get into college, that’s it. I have to become a history major, then a historian. When, for all I know, I might end up loving sociology and moving to Australia to study aboriginal culture.”
“Aboriginal culture, huh?” he said. “Well, you don’t think small.”
“Nope,” I agreed as we walked into his house. I pulled out my textbook and laid it in front of us on the kitchen table. “Now, where did we leave off?”
Chapter 12
I woke up the next morning exhausted. Working with Logan on AP US cut into the homework time for my other classes. I had a boatload of work due for AP Gov and was operating on five hours of sleep. I’m not a morning person. I wake up early physically, but I’m always close to snapping at someone. So when I came downstairs and found that Dylan had finished off the milk, my bad mood darkened. I
He tapped the steering wheel in time to his music. “I guess.”
“The reason it worked was because I left the threat to his imagination. Will I mess with his locker, or his report card, or his college transcript? Impossible to know. What we imagine is usually far more intimidating than reality. Psychological warfare.”
“So you psyched him out. Personally I prefer just going at it.”
“What?” My head jerked up and I leaned forward. I’d been distracted by idly wondering what it might be like to have his hands on the back of my neck, or lifting my chin to angle for a kiss. Thoughts I had no business thinking about a Notable, particularly one who was going to date Chelsea (again), marry her, and show up to the ten-year reunion with their perfect six-month-old baby.
“Fighting,” he clarified. “A few good hits on the ice and I feel much better.”
I imagined launching myself at Alex in the cafeteria, fists clenched. I bet I could have done some damage … before I was dragged to the infirmary.
“I’m a pretty good fighter,” I commented. “I had to learn to throw a punch or I’d always be stuck watching Monday Night Football.”
“Older siblings?” Logan asked, and it hit me just how little we actually knew about each other.
“Younger brother. Dylan. Plays quarterback at the middle school and idolizes any guy who wears pads.”
Logan considered that for a second. “Skinny? Reddish hair?”
I stared at him. “Yeah.”
He shrugged. “Good kid. I coached him at a sports camp over the summer. Listens to instructions.”
“Your instructions, maybe,” I said. “He doesn’t exactly fall over himself to do me any favors. Although, he was pretty great last night when I got the call from …”
I let my sentence dribble out as it finally hit me what was missing: the press. I had spent the entire day fearing the questions of doggedly persistent reporters, but there wasn’t anyone around. I’d had literally fifteen minutes of fame before becoming old news.
“They’re gone!” I could have floated the rest of the way to Logan’s house.
“Who is?”
“The newspaper and television people. They all cleared out.” I leaned back in my seat with a sigh of relief. “I can go back to being a nobody. Wonderful.” I wasn’t even being sarcastic.
Logan pulled into his long, elegant driveway—his whole life was surreally perfect. “You want to be ignored?” he asked incredulously.
“Well, yeah,” I said, stating the obvious. “If the choice is between being ignored or being ridiculed and body checked in the cafeteria line, it’s not exactly a tough call.”
“What about a third option?”
I just stared at him. “We go to the same high school, right? For me, there is no third option, which is why I’m studying so hard for college.” Logan didn’t say anything as we got out of the car. “What are your plans?” I asked curiously.
“College. Somewhere. My parents want me to check out their alma mater, USC , but I’m not sure it’s for me.”
I nodded. “It’s weird, isn’t it? The way adults expect us to have it all figured out. Once I get into college, that’s it. I have to become a history major, then a historian. When, for all I know, I might end up loving sociology and moving to Australia to study aboriginal culture.”
“Aboriginal culture, huh?” he said. “Well, you don’t think small.”
“Nope,” I agreed as we walked into his house. I pulled out my textbook and laid it in front of us on the kitchen table. “Now, where did we leave off?”
Chapter 12
I woke up the next morning exhausted. Working with Logan on AP US cut into the homework time for my other classes. I had a boatload of work due for AP Gov and was operating on five hours of sleep. I’m not a morning person. I wake up early physically, but I’m always close to snapping at someone. So when I came downstairs and found that Dylan had finished off the milk, my bad mood darkened. I
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