It feels egotistical to assume a chick wants on your dick, because let’s face it, usually they don’t. They want a compliment, or a little flirting. But Sydney? I have a feeling she’d be into road head if I suggested it. Which I’m not. What I want is to get her out of my car. Despite having done this out of respect to Vandy, it suddenly feels like anything but.
“I have this new bikini,” she continues, unaware that I’d stopped listening to figure out if it would be bad form to toss her out at the next stop sign. “It’s white with black stars. Luckily, our pool is heated so we can use it all year. My dad also installed a new hot tub that is so relaxing after a long workout.” She pauses and then adds, “I’ve been trying to get Vandy to come hang with me, but she’s busy all the time. Plus, you know how she is about bathing suits.”
I turn into the Cedar Grove entrance and frown. “What do you mean?”
“God, she’s so self-conscious. About the scars. Like, I would die if I had to wear a one-piece forever, especially if I had her rockin’ bod.”
Talking to Sydney is like trying to decipher a puzzle. One sentence is a compliment. The next an insult. She digs and pokes and soothes, all at the same time. No wonder Emory is so lukewarm about their friendship.
“I don’t know,” I say, hating the game she’s playing. “Scars can be kind of sexy.”
I can feel her stare hot on the side of my face, and I know she’s trying to come up with something flippant, something to shift the conversation back to her. She snaps her mouth shut, and after flipping her hair over her shoulder, gestures to a large brick house coming up on our right. I pull up to the curb, making it very clear that I am not going inside.
I already know she’s going to ask.
I’m staring out the front window, waiting for her to open the door when I feel her hand on my thigh. “Thanks for the ride. Let me show some appreciation, yeah? My parents aren’t home, if you want to relax in the hot tub. I bet your muscles could use a little heat.”
“Thanks,” I tell her, gripping her hand and removing it off my leg. What I really want to say is that I’m dating the most beautiful, sexy, amazing girl in the world. But that’s a secret and Sydney definitely can’t keep one of those. Instead, I say, “But things are really busy right now, with football and catching up on schoolwork. It doesn’t leave a lot of time for social stuff.”
“Right.” Her chin falters. “Well, you let me know when you’re ready to start... socializing.”
“Bye, Syd,” I say, raising my eyebrows. Normally brushing off a girl would be no big deal. But she’s Vandy’s friend and I’m not going to interfere with that.
“Bye,” she says, well aware she’s been rejected. Evidently undeterred, she gives me a beaming smile as she steps out.
I exhale the instant she shuts the door and drive as fast as I can to get away from certain trouble.
27
Vandy
“Ms. Hall, can you come in my office for a moment?”
I stop when I hear Mr. Lee call my name, and awkwardly cut through the crowded hallway to get to his room. He leans against the door jamb, glasses slipping down his nose. I follow him into the office.
“Next week is Homecoming,” he says, as though this isn’t already well known. The whole school has started to get the buzz—the dance proposals, girls sharing photos of dresses, guys wagering over the game. There’s a big banner two doors down from Mr. Lee’s room announcing ticket sales at lunch. “I just wanted to make sure you know that you’ll be on duty all week.”
“Other than the game?”
“The game, the pep-rally, the parade.” He sits behind his desk. “Really any and all activities. It’s kind of an all-hands-on-deck scenario. If you’re there, take some photos and write it up. We always put out a special edition of the newspaper.”
Something niggles at my mind. “What about the Alumni Fundraiser?”
Emory mentioned that it’s a mandatory event for the Devils. Why? He hasn’t said yet, but I suspect it has something to do with the final rite.
He looks surprised. “That event is traditionally for just the alumni and special guests. They’ll hire a PR person and their own photographer for the event. You don’t need to worry about that. The teachers don’t even get an invite,” he adds with a mutter. “Just make sure you get photos of the football team
and the cheerleaders. That’s what brings in the most donations anyway. Then, if we’re lucky, they’ll toss us a few bucks for new software.”
Of course the football team and cheerleaders bring in the most donations, I think, walking down the hall. Everything in this place circles back around to the same groups promoting the same things; football, cheerleaders, doting on alumni. Preston Prep is like a snake eating its tail.
I push into the bathroom and hear Sydney’s voice before I round the metal partition. I stop, not wanting to get into it with her today. Things have been tense and weird between us lately, especially after I rejected her offer for ‘partner in crime’. She’s too nosy for her own damn good. I saw her last night when I was leaving the tower. She must have been waiting for a ride. I managed to avoid her only by going all the way around the building to get to the parking lot.
I start to turn, but before I can get out of the door, I hear someone say, “So, is it true?”
“Is what true?” Syd asks.
“That you and Reynolds McAllister hooked up last night?”