My cheeks flamed hot. What had seemed like a fun project at first had quickly turned into a burden. I’d been trying to schedule these appointments during school, around my classes. At home, I selected the best photos and touched them up on my computer. But I also had other responsibilities. I’d signed on to photograph a 5K race at the town’s Labor Day festival next Monday. And of course I had to help Mom. She ran a bed and breakfast. I was required to contribute to the breakfast end of it. I didn’t see how I could produce these finished pictures for Kennedy any faster.
“Is everything okay here?” Mr. Oakley had walked up behind Kennedy.
“Of course,” Kennedy said. From his position, Mr. Oakley couldn’t see Kennedy narrow his eyes, warning me not to complain. Mr. Oakley had said at the beginning of school that he wanted the yearbook to run like a business, meaning we students reported to each other like employees to bosses, rather than crying to him about every minor problem. That meant Kennedy had a lot more power than a yearbook editor at a school where the advisor made the decisions.
For better or for worse.
Mr. Oakley looked straight at me. “Can you work this out yourselves?”
“Yes, sir.” My voice was drowned out by the bell ending the period.
As Mr. Oakley moved away and students gathered their books, Kennedy rolled his chair closer to mine and said in my ear, “Don’t raise your voice to me.”
Raise my voice? He was the one who’d raised his voice and caught Mr. Oakley’s attention.
The bell went silent.
Kennedy straightened. In his normal tone he said, “Tell Ms. Patel I’ll miss most of study hall. I’m going to stay here and get a head start on the other Superlatives pages, now that I know we’re in trouble.”
“Okay.” The argument hadn’t ended like I’d wanted, but at least he didn’t seem angry anymore.
I retrieved my book bag and smiled when I saw Quinn waiting for me just inside the doorway. His big grin made his dyed-black Goth hair and the metal stud jutting from his bottom lip look less threatening. Most people in school didn’t know what I knew: that Quinn was a sweetheart. We wound our way through the crowded halls toward Ms. Patel’s classroom.
“I overheard your talk with Kennedy,” Quinn said.
“Did you see his designs?” I asked. “I understand why he’d want to angle some photos for variety if the pictures themselves were boring. Mine aren’t.”
“He’ll change his mind when he sees the rest of your masterpieces,” Quinn assured me. “Speaking of the Superlatives, Noah said Brody’s been talking about you.”
I suspected where this was going. Noah and I hadn’t been as tight this school year, since I’d started dating Kennedy. In fact, if I hadn’t checked Noah’s calculus homework every day in study hall, we might not have talked at all. But last spring when we’d gone out, he’d told me what great friends he and Brody were. Brody’s dad had been their first football coach for the rec league in third grade. They’d played side by side ever since. Now Noah’s position on the team was right guard. His responsibility was to protect Brody from getting sacked before he could throw the ball. Friends that close definitely shared their opinions of the girl one of them had been teamed with as Perfect Couple.
Brody must have told Noah it was ridiculous that he and I had been paired. He would never dream of wasting his time with a nerd like me. I should have told Quinn that whatever it was, I didn’t want to know. And still I heard myself asking, “What did Brody say about me?”
“Yesterday in football practice,” Quinn said, “Brody told the team that you two aren’t the Perfect Couple. You’re the Perfect Coupling. And then he expressed admiration for your ass.”
“Oooh.” I was thrilled at the idea of Brody noticing my body and wishing he could have sex with me. But I quickly realized I was supposed to feel insulted. I turned that “Oooh” into a more appropriate “Ewww. He shouldn’t kid around like that. Somebody’s bound to tell Kennedy.”
“Yeah, but . . .” Quinn looked askance at me. “Do you care, after the way Kennedy treated you just now? Why don’t you stand up to him?”
“Kennedy has a point,” I explained. “He needs my pictures for the Superlatives. If I miss a deadline and make him miss his, it doesn’t matter why. An excuse won’t fix it. And he doesn’t want me to argue with him in class, because it looks bad to Mr. Oakley.”
We’d reached Ms. Patel’s doorway and stopped outside to finish our talk. Sawyer was in our study hall. Sawyer and private conversations didn’t mix.
Quinn put one hand on my shoulder, something Kennedy rarely did. “I’ve worried long enough about keeping up appearances. I’m done with that today.”
I nodded. Quinn was making a big announcement at the end of the period.
“Come with me,” he said. “Come into the light. Stop worrying about how things look.”
I frowned. “We’re not in the same situation, Quinn. And how things look—that’s everything I care about.”
“You’ll be sorry.” He spun on the heel of his combat boot and disappeared into the classroom.
Perplexed, I turned to frown at the end of the slowly emptying hall. My senior year was supposed to be the time of my life. Two weeks in, all I felt was anxious about my photo assignment. And thrilled that a random hot guy, who would never ask me out, had made a joke about hooking up with me.