It’s only then that I notice Paul’s chair at the table next to ours is still empty. I’m relieved that I won’t have to be dealing with him, but what does that have to do with us?
“And since your group has five people, and our assignments will call for groups of four, I was hoping one of you would volunteer to join Paul’s family to replace him.”
I feel my face grow hot as I scan my table. There’s Steve and Hannah, both Hunter and Brynn’s friends. And then there’s Brynn, Hunter’s new lady love. And the man of the hour himself. All of them are staring at me.
They expect me to volunteer to go.
You have got to be kidding me.
I mean, these people may be my new sworn enemies, but I’m not trading them for a group of delinquents and the opportunity to relive my middle school angst for the next nine months. No way, no how.
When none of us says anything, Mrs. Sanchez laughs. “I guess you’re all really tight. But you’ll still be in the same class. Surely one of you can join another group.”
Nope. Not me. Luke is staring at me, probably relishing the idea of teasing and laughing at me on a daily basis.
“I’m afraid if one of you doesn’t volunteer, I’ll have to pick someone,” Mrs. Sanchez says, annoyance rising in her voice. Good, let her pick. I’m not being pushed out of this group as if I’ve done something wrong.
“We don’t bite, yo,” A.J. says, tipping his chair back and lacing his hands behind his head.
Brynn leans toward Hunter and whispers, “I can’t believe her.”
“Can’t believe what, Brynn?” It comes out of my mouth before I can stop myself.
Brynn’s mouth hangs agape as she struggles for something to say. I feel kind of vindicated.
Until Luke speaks up. “Hey, Mrs. Sanchez. What if we pick someone? Will that make it easier?”
Mrs. Sanchez sighs. “Seeing as how this group is too stubborn to do anything, I think that’s a wonderful idea, Mr. Burke.”
Luke smiles and I just know what’s coming next. “I think there’s a little too much testosterone in our family, right, guys?” he says, nodding at his group-mates. I close my eyes, preparing for my utter humiliation.
“Okay,” I hear Luke say, and I suck in my breath. “We’d like Brynn.”
Huh? I open my eyes and exhale. Brynn is completely slack-jawed. “Me?” she squeaks.
“Ms. Potts, gather your things and join their group,” Mrs. Sanchez says. “I think this is a more than sensible solution since none of you are volunteering.”
“B-but,” she sputters, looking helplessly at Hunter, who is shaking his head in dismay.
“Now, Ms. Potts!” Mrs. Sanchez snaps, clearly at the end of her patience.
And that’s when Brynn starts to cry. Like, her nose gets red and tears spill over. Her hands are shaking and she lets out a little sob as she pushes in her chair. Hunter makes a grab for her free hand. Hannah tries to pat her on the back. It’s like Brynn’s being shipped off to a war zone or something. And it makes me realize I’m now going to be viewed as the monster of the group for daring to stick to my guns.
“Oh, for the love of god,” I grouch, standing up and grabbing my backpack. “I’ll go.”
Brynn is totally stunned into silence as I huff over to the next table and sit down in Paul’s vacant seat with a heavy plunk. I don’t look at any of the guys and will my hands to stop shaking. I stare straight ahead at Mrs. Sanchez, who shakes her head, perplexed. I’m kind of confused myself, though I’m not really thinking rationally right now. All I know is there’s no way I’d let Brynn play the martyr, as if her anguish was somehow worse than the pain she and Hunter inflicted on me.
It’s only then I notice the guys in the group are all gaping at me.
“Hey,” A.J. mouths, wiggling his eyebrows at me. I quickly turn my attention back to Mrs. Sanchez.
What have I done? Oh god, what have I done?
Mrs. Sanchez is oblivious to my horror as she walks around the room, placing unmarked manila envelopes on each table. “Inside these are different income brackets for your family. We have everything from ‘Grad Students on a Budget’ to ‘Dual Income Investment Bankers.’ You will also find your monthly expenses and you’ll have to figure out a realistic budget for your family based on this.”
The classroom is suddenly buzzing as everyone opens their envelopes to find out their status. A.J. is momentarily distracted from harassing me and grabs the envelope off our table.
“May I do the honors?” he asks.
The guys nod, and A.J. unhooks the gold clasp on the envelope. He reaches in and pulls out a stack of papers bound together with a binder clip, and reads something on top of the pile. His smirk fades away.
“You’ve got to be kidding,” he says. He sits back in his seat, disgusted, as he tosses the papers on the table. Clipped to the top of the stack is an index card, with “Single Mother, Two Kids” written on it in thick black marker.
“Maybe it won’t be that bad. Maybe the mom’s some big-shot executive,” Luke says, picking up the stack. He peeks under the index card at the first sheet of paper and his face falls. “Oh. She’s a bus driver.”
A.J. and Isaiah are shaking their heads at the stack of papers, as if it somehow has the capability to know it’s disappointed them. Luke, however, is studying me. I decide now is as good a time as any to let him know he can’t intimidate me, so I shoot what I hope is a defiant look back at him. But instead of mocking me or making some creepy gesture, his eyes quickly shift away, the tips of his ears turning slightly pink.
I’m momentarily confused, but then I notice Steve and Hannah high-fiving, Hunter pumping his
