Chapter 5

Rhett

I stared at her question longer than I should have.

Have you ever felt like you’re just not good enough?

That wasn’t where I thought this conversation was going.

Twenty minutes ago we’d been screwing around about dresses and shoes. Now some girl whose name I didn’t even know had apparently decided we were getting serious.

I typed No.

Deleted it.

Then typed the truth.

ME: Yeah.

Nothing came back immediately.

I tossed my phone onto my bed, grabbed a clean shirt, and pulled it over my head. By the time I looked again, she’d answered.

UNKNOWN GIRL: Really?

ME: You sound surprised.

UNKNOWN GIRL: You seem confident.

I laughed once.

She’d figured that out from a few texts?

ME: You don’t know me.

Her answer came fast.

UNKNOWN GIRL: You used that against me earlier.

ME: I’m stealing it back.

UNKNOWN GIRL: Rude.

ME: You’ll survive.

There she was.

For some reason, I liked that she could go from asking something serious to giving me shit thirty seconds later.

Then another message appeared.

UNKNOWN GIRL: So what aren’t you good enough at?

I stared at that one.

Football would’ve been the obvious answer, except football was the one place I usually knew exactly what I was doing.

Everything surrounding football was different.

Dad.

Scouts.

College.

The constant feeling that one bad game could screw up something everyone had spent years telling me was my future.

I wasn’t explaining all of that to somebody I’d met because she couldn’t type a phone number correctly.

So I went with the easier answer.

ME: Government apparently.

UNKNOWN GIRL: The class?

ME: No. I’m trying to overthrow Congress.

UNKNOWN GIRL: Just checking.

ME: I have a 63.

There was a pause.

UNKNOWN GIRL: That’s impressively bad.

I laughed.

ME: I came here for emotional support.

UNKNOWN GIRL: Then you definitely have the wrong number.

I was still smiling when Dad called me downstairs for dinner.

I looked at the screen one more time before putting the phone in my pocket.

I didn’t know who she was.

Apparently, that was starting to be the part I liked.

⸻

By the next morning, my sixty-three had become everybody’s business.

Coach caught me before first period and reminded me that “student” came before “athlete,” which was bullshit because nobody had ever filled the stands to watch me take a government test.

Dad had already texted twice.

And Knox thought the entire thing was hilarious.

“You know what your problem is?” he asked as we stood near our lockers.

“I continue speaking to you?”

“You think being pretty will carry you through life.”

I looked at him.

“It’s worked so far.”

Knox laughed.

Bree and Sienna were a few lockers down, talking about something that had happened at cheer practice. Parker was beside us digging through his backpack like there was a possibility his missing English assignment might magically appear if he looked hard enough.

“Just cheat,” Parker said.

“Excellent advice,” I told him. “I’ll tell Coach you suggested it.”

“Don’t bring me into your academic failure.”

“I hate all of you.”

Knox was about to say something when he suddenly looked past me.

Then he smiled.

“Wait.”

I knew that smile.

Usually it meant somebody else was about to have a bad day.

“What?”

“I got it.”

“Got what?”

“I know how to fix your government problem.”

“If you say cheat again—”

“No. Better.”

He nodded across the hallway.

I followed his gaze.

The quiet girl from yesterday stood at her locker.

Emily.

No.

Emery.

She had one of those giant sweaters on again, her hair pulled back, books hugged against her chest while she searched through her locker.

“What about her?” I asked.

Knox lowered his voice.

“That little wannabe girl is smart as hell.”

My eyebrows pulled together. “Wannabe?”

“You know what I mean. She’s always hanging around trying to get Bree and Sienna to notice her.”

I looked over again.

Emery didn’t look like she was trying to get anybody to notice her.

Actually, she looked like she was doing everything possible to avoid it.

“Sienna gets her to do stuff for her all the time,” Knox continued. “Homework, notes, study guides. Bree does too.”

As if she’d heard her name, Bree walked over.

“Who?”

Knox nodded toward Emery.

“Oh.” Bree smiled. “Yeah. She’s really smart.”

“What’s her name?” Parker asked.

Bree hesitated.

That was almost funny.

“Emma?”

“Emery,” I said.

Three faces turned toward me.

I immediately regretted opening my mouth.

Knox grinned. “Look at Callahan learning names.”

“She corrected me yesterday.”

“Sure she did.”

“Shut up.”

Bree glanced toward Emery again. “She helped me with chemistry yesterday. She makes these amazing review sheets.”

Knox slapped my shoulder.

“There you go.”

“There I go where?”

“Government.”

I stared at him.

He stared back like I was slow.

“Get her to help you.”

“Why would she help me?”

Knox actually laughed.

“Because you ask.”

“That usually how asking works?”

“No, dumbass. Because you ask.”

I didn’t answer.

Knox nodded toward Emery again.

“Give her a little attention. Talk to her. Invite her to sit with us or something. She’ll probably have your grade fixed in two weeks.”

Something about that sounded shitty.

“You want me to pretend to be her friend so she’ll do my work?”

“I didn’t say make her do your work. Let her help you.” He shrugged. “She wants to feel special or included or whatever. Everybody gets something.”

Bree made a face. “That’s kind of mean.”

“You ask her for answers all the time.”

“That’s different.”

“How?”

Bree opened her mouth.

Then closed it.

Knox grinned. “Exactly.”

I looked across the hallway again.

Emery shut her locker and adjusted the books in her arms.

Then she glanced up.

Straight at me.

Her eyes widened.

And she immediately looked away.

Knox laughed under his breath.

“See?”

I should’ve told him no.

Actually, I almost did.

Then my phone vibrated in my pocket.

Dad.

Probably another reminder about my grade.

Coach’s warning replayed in my head.

Scouts.

Eligibility.

Sixty-three.

I looked at Emery again.

“How smart is she?”

Knox’s grin widened.

“Smart enough to save your ass.”

And that was probably the moment I should’ve walked away.

Instead, I started thinking about how easy it might be.