I glance over at Heath, who’s now pushing back his cuticles with his thumb and doing a terrible job because his hands are still shaking slightly.
“Now, it’s come to our attention that some of our students have contracted mononucleosis, as have a few of the students over at Headmistress Robin’s school.”
She’s not near the microphone, but I can see her stance stiffen and her mouth move. She’s trying to correct him, once again. The dean pays her no mind.
“Due to the highly contagious nature of the disease, we’ve decided to take the proactive step to test all students before the upcoming winter dance.” A slight rustle breaks out among the students, a sort of shuddering excitement. “So, if you have not already, all students need to submit a full medical record to the office promptly.”
My stomach drops. Shit. I can’t have them looking at my medical records for obvious reasons. And this mono thing is really going to put a damper on me trying to get a date.
No longer able to simply stand on the sidelines, Dean Robin takes a couple swift steps onto the stage where she’s reluctantly allowed to lean in close to the microphone. I know I must be imagining it, but I swear I catch her searching the crowd for something, for someone, until for just a second her gaze comes to rest on me.
“With everyone’s compliance, we’ll be able to stop this little outbreak in no time at all.”
Once again, I feel my stomach seize slightly.
Is this some sort of ploy for her to flush me out?
Of course not, I know that … but if she’s suspicious of me, why doesn’t she just come out and say it? She doesn’t strike me as the type to beat around the bush. If she has her suspicions and hasn’t acted on it yet, then there has to be a reason for it.
I just can’t imagine what that might be.
The dean talks a little more, telling us about the upcoming winter dance. Beside me, Heath isn’t paying attention. I decide I just won’t make any attempt to get ahold of my medical records. After all, if I don’t have them, they can’t get them, right?
I know it probably won’t be that simple, but I’ll just have to worry about that when it comes down to it.
Once the assembly ends, Heath bounds away, jittery and nervous, and I’m left wondering just what’s wrong with him.
Anything to keep myself from wondering what’s wrong with me, because despite everything else, I still get the smallest thrill each time he glares my way.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Since I’m supposed to be concentrating on finding a date to the dance, naturally I spend the next couple weeks doing literally anything else.
In fact, it gets to the point that I actually start getting better at lacrosse. I’m not good, definitely not a star player by any means, but I’m starting to hold my own. I can catch the ball pretty reliably, I can sometimes aim accurately when I throw, and I’m starting to understand my position on the field a little better.
I’m still a bench warmer, though. I won’t be playing in any games. But who knew that having a healthy body that isn’t malnourished, bruised, or broken would help my performance in sports?
Well, I’m still bruised … just not as badly as I was before.
It isn’t long before I start to make out some actual muscle definition between the bruises. All this, and I still see no sign of growing the kind of honkers I won’t be able to hide under an oversized tee shirt.
If only I saw enough of Rafael these days to rub it in his face.
Between lacrosse and avoiding any attempts to get my medical records, the dance is soon looming closer and I haven’t gotten any closer to getting a date.
Today’s practice goes fine. I run drills, miss a few shots, throw a little too awkwardly. But the coach compliments me twice, and that’s something.
As practices have gone on, more and more girls from the other school have been attending. I keep trying to catch a couple of their eyes from beneath their bundled hats and coats, but any time I do they immediately look away. I know I need to get my nerves up to just ask one of them out already, but I keep losing the nerve.
Who would have known asking a girl out to a dance would be so nerve wracking?
We’re getting into December, so my time is running out.
“All right, off the field,” the coach shouts. “Go get changed. Good job today. Good hustle out there today,” he adds to me when I drift by him.
“Thanks, coach.” I smile. It’s actually nice to be doing something physical now that I’m used to it. I’ve grown fond of the contrasted heat from the field and the crisp—no, freezing—winter air.
On my way out, I take my customary walk past the bleachers.