Bridgette stayed out of trouble until the same guy shouted at her after she stole the ball from him again. A few minutes later, she slid her legs under his, sweeping him onto his back as she redirected the ball to a teammate. The whistle blew, the gym teacher waving a red card at Bridgette. Bridgette shrugged, flouncing back to the bleachers, smiling at me. I resolved to make sure I always ended up on her team.
But in the next class…The only thing I learned in English was that Bridgette had zero attention span. She kept scoping everyone out but me. One second, she’d glance at the opening door. The next, at a kid taking a pencil out of his bag. Then, the girl two seats in front of me standing up to throw a tissue in the trash. Bridgette kept her narrowed eyes on the strawberry blonde until she sat down again.
Bridgette had insisted we sit in the back corner furthest from the door, and it turned out to be a good thing, too. I had no doubt she would’ve done a full 180 if anyone so much as sneezed behind us.
When I saw Mickey standing outside our classroom door waiting to walk with me to physics, I leapt at the chance to get away from Bridgette. After fifty minutes of sitting in the same room with her, I’d started jumping at any movement someone made in the classroom to the point where I had no idea what the lesson was about. All I got from class is that we had homework. Involving a paper. Maybe. And that two girls had colds and only one of them used tissues and had pinpoint accuracy in throwing them in the wastebasket. And that the redhead in the second row tapped his pencil against his desk when he was thinking. And the brunette with the long ponytail in the front row liked to play footsie with the leg of her desk. And…well…there was more to notice than I had ever really cared to.
Thankfully, my last class of this stupid block schedule, physics, was a no-Bridgette class, so I actually had a chance of passing it, since she wouldn’t be there to distract me.
Chapter 7
The scent of chocolate chip cookies blasted me as soon as Mickey opened the front door of the house. The smell acted like a gravitational force, pulling us to the kitchen, and Mickey and I willingly played the part of incoming space debris—yeah, physics was my last class of the day. Maeve slid a cookie tray out of the oven and popped it on top of the stove. She looked every bit of the 50s housewife: floral-print apron, matching floral oven mitt, blond hair swept into a bun, and a spotless kitchen as her backdrop. Impressive. Not even a dish in the sink.
“How was school?” Maeve pulled out a spatula from the drawer.
“Good,” Mickey and I answered as we slid into the barstools closest to the cookies.
“Did Mickey show you around?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Mickey answered.
“How were classes? Did you make any friends?”
I glanced toward the stairs, wondering if chocolate chip cookies were worth the inquisition. My growling stomach answered the question for me.
“Classes were fine, but half of them are with Goober over here.”
“Kella, that’s no way to talk about Mickey. We treat each other with respect.”
Seriously? Maeve sounded as if she was quoting some lame parenting book word-for-word. I looked over at Mickey to see if she was for real. He shrugged.
“So I met Bridgette today,” I said.
“Oh?” Maeve extended her arm toward Mickey, cookie in hand.
“Yep, all one-hundred-and-twenty pounds of obnoxiousness,” Mickey said. Maeve snatched her hand away before he could touch the cookie.
“Mickey, we don’t mention a girl’s weight,” she said, eyebrows tucked into a V.
Mickey held up his hands. “That was a factual statement—minus the obnoxiousness part. But I don’t think I’d get much pushback if I presented that as fact, too.”
“Factual or not, adolescent girls often struggle with weight. I don’t think I need to remind you that we do not wish to…” Maeve glanced at me. “Exacerbate any unhealthy perceptions by focusing on the subject.”
Mickey winced. “Yes, ma’am.” He got his cookie.
I rolled my eyes. There it was again. Just because I was a little skinny didn’t make me anorexic. Hello, some people had crazy fast metabolisms. No matter how much I ate, I couldn’t pack on any weight.
“What’s with you calling her obnoxious? Aren’t you guys dating?” I asked. Maeve handed me a cookie as I propped my elbows on top of the counter.
“It is possible to date someone who’s obnoxious,” he said.
“Wow,” I said, offended on her behalf. “How about you put the girl out of her misery and just break up then? No one wants to be the ‘obnoxious’ girlfriend.”
“Maybe she hopes my feelings will change.” Mickey shrugged. “And as long as she’s content with the relationship—”
“Wait, Bridgette knows what you think about her and she’s still dating you? She can’t be that desperate. I mean, she’s gotta have some self-respect.” I raised the cookie to my lips only to lower it again. “And even if she doesn’t, what are you getting out of this relationship? Wait,” I said, holding up my hand, “don’t answer that. I don’t want you to answer that. I will lose all respect for you if you do.”
Mickey grimaced. “It’s not like—never mind.”
I studied Mickey’s closed expression for a moment, glad he at least opened the possibility that there was more to the relationship than the obvious. Maybe he and Bridgette had started out as friends. Come to think of it, Caleb had had plenty of obnoxious friends—and girlfriends—but that hadn’t made him like them any less. Maybe it was a guy thing. Or maybe I didn’t have much experience in the “relationships” department, friends included.
After all, friends
