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Untouchable (Untouchables, 1)

Page 137

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A suspicion clicks into place and I look up at Ms. Cunningham. “Who is third?”

“Hm? Oh.” She drags her finger down a printout and reads the name of the student between me and Carter. “Sara Knowles.”

I start laughing. It’s a crazy, maniacal, I’m-cracking kind of laugh, and the guidance counselor begins to look concerned.

Sara Knowles. Carter’s rally girl. Accomplished not only at making cute chocolate covered strawberries, but assembling baskets, and probably doing Carter’s schoolwork when he doesn’t feel like doing it.

Of fucking course Carter would land the smartest rally girl in the history of fucking rally girls to do his bitchwork.

Nothing is fair. Everything is shit. Carter Mahoney is the worst. I’m laughing so hard a tear creeps out of the corner of my eye, and the moisture triggers a stinging behind my eyes like I might actually cry. That kills my maniacal humor and I settle down, trying to focus and grasp at the remaining straws.

“Sorry. Okay, so, you said I should be able to catch up to Sara. That means we’re not that far apart.”

She nods her head. “That’s right. It would add a lot of stress on ya, though, and I know you’ve got a lot on your plate already. Even if you don’t catch up to Carter, all is not lost. If you’re open to Prairie View, you can attend there tuition free. You won’t be able to commute that far, of course, but if you go to this one,” she says, sliding a pamphlet across the desk and tapping it, “This one is in Dallas, so it’s close enough that you could commute, that way you wouldn’t have to pay for campus housing.”

I stop listening. Staying in Texas for college is the absolute last resort. I’m not going to give up on my first choice school. Ms. Cunningham thinks I need to jump two spots, but I know I only really have to jump one. Only Sara.

If I can catch up to her, I might be able to catch up to Carter, because Sara is probably why Carter is salutatorian in the first place. If it comes down to it, I might be able to play dirty and distract Carter from his schoolwork. She does some of his work, but surely not all of it. If I can get his authentic grades to suffer a little bit, even Sara’s help won’t keep him in second.

I don’t like playing Carter’s manipulative games, but he doesn’t need this as much as I do. He’s already in at Columbia because of his football talent. If he isn’t salutatorian, it won’t make a difference. Meanwhile, my future depends upon it.

Chapter 44

Over the next couple days, I spin a dozen different plans to distract Carter and sabotage his academic standing. I study up on Sara to see which classes she’s taking so I can get an idea of how the hell I can get ahead of her. The main problem I see is that she’s in AP math classes and I’m not. It’s hard as hell to leap frog someone who is acing a class that scores them more GPA points than mine. I need her to be weak in another class that I can ace. The problem is, she isn’t. The dumbest thing about her seems to be that she likes Carter, and I can’t very well blame her for that.

So, that’s inconvenient. Why couldn’t he just have a bimbo for a rally girl?

By Thursday, I feel terrible about all my plans of sabotage. This isn’t me. I’m not a saboteur. I don’t scheme and deceive to get my way. If I get out of this town only because I played like that, I don’t even know if I’ll be able to feel proud of my own accomplishments.

Thursday is also the day of a math exam that I have to ace if I stand a chance of catching up to Carter. I’ve been studying my ass off for it, practicing exam questions until my vision blurs, but math is my weakest subject. I tend to get vaguely anxious halfway through every exam, and by the second half, I end up missing a couple of questions that I know the answer to when I get the test back.

I bet Carter doesn’t let any exam psyche him out.

As mad as I am at myself for it, I text Carter when I get to school and tell him I need to see him as soon as he has a minute. I don’t know exactly what I’m going to do or say to him until the moment arrives. I go back and forth, warring with what I need and what I’m willing to do.

I’m at my locker putting books away and getting out my history book when he shows up.

“You rang?”

I sigh, closing my locker door and looking over at him. “Did you know you’re on track to be the class salutatorian?”


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