Chapter 10: Avery

Avery’s POV

"I still can't believe you're taking all advanced classes," Tara said, stabbing her salad with more force than necessary. "Are you trying to kill yourself senior year?"

I looked up from my own lunch, a turkey sandwich that I'd barely touched, and shrugged. "It's not that bad. Chem is actually my favorite class."

"Of course it is. You're probably the only person in the school who likes taking it."

"I mean it’s interesting," I said with a smile.

Tara rolled her eyes good-naturedly. "You're such a nerd. What about your other classes? Please tell me at least one of them is normal."

"History is pretty standard. Mr. Patterson just talks at us for fifty minutes about dead presidents. And Calculus is..." I paused, trying to think of a diplomatic way to describe Mrs. Rodriguez's teaching style. "Challenging."

"Challenging as in hard, or challenging as in she's completely insane?"

"Both."

Tara laughed, and I found myself relaxing for the first time all day. This was nice. Normal conversation about normal problems. No tiptoeing, no acting like I was going to break any second now.

"Avery?"

I looked up to see Gabe approaching our table, soccer cleats hanging around his neck and grass stains on his practice shirt. His dark hair was damp with sweat, but somehow he still managed to look incredibly attractive.

"Hey," I said, trying to ignore the way my pulse quickened slightly.

"Sorry to interrupt," he said, glancing at Tara with a polite smile. "I just wanted to ask if you might want to come to our game on Friday. We're playing Central, and they're supposed to be pretty good this year."

"Oh," I said, suddenly very aware that Tara was watching this interaction with barely concealed interest. "I don't really know that much about soccer."

"That's okay. I could explain the rules as we go." His smile turned slightly mischievous. "Plus, I promise the game is way more exciting than chemistry."

"I seriously doubt that," I said, but I was smiling too.

"Is that a challenge?"

"Maybe."

"Well then, I guess you'll have to come and see for yourself."

There was something in the way he was looking at me. It wasn’t just friendly, it was something warmer.

"Okay," I heard myself say. "I'll be there."

"Really?" His whole face lit up. "That's awesome. Game starts at seven, but maybe you could come a little early? I could introduce you to some of the other players. My friends."

"Sure."

"Great. I'll, uh, I'll see you then." He hesitated for a moment, like he wanted to say something else, then just smiled and jogged off toward the gym.

I watched him go, trying to ignore the way Tara was practically vibrating with excitement beside me.

"Oh my God," she whispered as soon as he was out of earshot. "Oh my God, Avery."

"What?"

"What do you mean, what? Gabriel Castellanos just asked you on a date!"

"It wasn't a date. He invited me to his soccer match."

"With his beautiful eyes and his perfect smile and that little flirty comment about chemistry whatever. That was totally a date."

Heat crept up my neck. "You think?"

"I know. Trust me, I've seen enough failed attempts at asking girls out to recognize the real thing." Tara grinned. "Plus, he's been staring at you every time you're in the same room. It's actually kind of adorable."

"He has not been staring."

"He has. And now you're going to his soccer game, and it's going to be perfect, and—"

"Tara," I interrupted, laughing despite myself. "Calm down. It's just soccer."

"Right. Just soccer. With one of the hottest guys in our grade."

I was about to argue when I caught sight of a familiar group approaching our table. Brooke Thompson and her usual crew—Maddie, Hannah, and Sophie—were heading straight for us, and from the look on Brooke's face, this wasn't a social visit.

"Well, well," Brooke said as they stopped beside our table. "Look who's making friends."

I kept my expression neutral. "Brooke."

"I have to say, I'm impressed. Two weeks back and you're already... what's the word... integrating so well."

There was something sharp underneath her pleasant tone, something that made my shoulders tense.

"Is there something you need?" I asked.

"Oh, nothing specific. I just wanted to welcome you back properly. You know, since we didn't get a chance to talk when you first returned."

Maddie giggled behind her hand. "It's so crazy how different you look now."

"People change," I said simply.

"They certainly do," Brooke agreed, but her eyes were cold. "Some people change... locations. Some people change their entire personalities. It's all very... interesting."

I could feel Tara tensing beside me, ready to jump in, but I kept my voice level. "If you have something to say, Brooke, just say it."

"Me? Oh no, I don't have anything to say. I'm just... observing. It's fascinating, really, watching how some people can just... reinvent themselves." Her smile was razor-sharp. "Must be nice to get a fresh start."

The implication hung in the air between us. 

I felt a flicker of nausea, but pushed it away.

"Come on, Brooke," Sophie said, tugging on her arm. "We should get to class."

"You're right." Brooke adjusted her bag and looked at me one more time. "It was so nice catching up, Avery. We should hang out next time."

Yeah right. I’d rather be run over by a trailer than have that happen.

"What the actual hell?" Tara said as soon as they were gone. “What a bitch!”

"It was nothing," I said, trying to brush it off, but my appetite had completely disappeared. "Just Brooke being Brooke."

"Yeah just because it’s Brooke being Brooke, doesn’t mean it’s okay —"

"Can we just drop it?" I interrupted, probably more sharply than I intended. "Please?"

Tara studied my face for a moment, then nodded. "Okay. But for what it's worth, she's just jealous."

"Jealous of what?"

"Are you kidding? You come back looking amazing, you're clearly brilliant, you've got Gabriel Castellanos asking you to soccer games..." Tara shrugged. "Plus, I've seen the way her boyfriend looks at you."

My stomach dropped. "What do you mean?"

"Bryson Gray. He's been staring at you since the day you got back. Like, obviously staring. It must be killing her."

"He has not—"

"He has. And Brooke's definitely noticed. I mean everyone has." Tara leaned forward, lowering her voice. "Trust me, that little performance just now? That was all about marking her territory."

I couldn’t help but to smile, satisfaction spreading through me. On the list of people I’d like to get back at, Brooke was at the top.

"Speaking of which," Tara continued, apparently oblivious to my internal conflict, "want to come to the mall with me this weekend? I need new jeans, and you could help me pick out something cute for when I inevitably work up the courage to talk to Jake Walker."

"Sure," I said automatically, grateful for the subject change.

The rest of lunch passed in safer territory with Tara's ongoing crush on Jake, our shared frustration with classes we didn’t like, plans for the weekend shopping trip. Normal things. Easy things.

But I couldn't shake the feeling that Brooke's little visit had been more than just a casual welcome back. There had been something calculated about it, something that made me think this was just the beginning.

When the bell rang, I grabbed my bag and headed toward the science wing, trying to push the encounter out of my mind. Chem was next, and I had more important things to worry about like whether Mr. Kevinson would actually announce the partnership assignments today.

The classroom was already half full when I arrived, and I slipped into my usual seat without making eye contact with anyone. Mr. Kevinson was writing chemical equations on the board, but there was a stack of papers on his desk that definitely hadn't been there yesterday.

Partnership assignments, hopefully?

"Before we discuss reaction kinetics," Mr. Kevinson announced once everyone had settled, "I have your assignments for our semester competition."

My heart started beating faster.

"When I call your names, please acknowledge that you're both present and accounted for." He picked up the first sheet of paper. "Anderson and Woods."

Two voices called out confirmations from the back of the room.

"Thompson and Smith."

More confirmations.

I found myself holding my breath as he worked through the list. Please not someone who wouldn't take it seriously. Please not someone who would expect me to do all the work. Please—

"Whitmore and Gray."

The words hit me like a physical blow. I felt the blood drain from my face as Mr. Kevinson continued reading, but I couldn't hear anything else over the rushing in my ears.

Bryson. Of course it was Bryson.

I risked a glance in his direction and immediately regretted it. He was looking right at me with an expression I couldn't quite read.

No. 

Absolutely not.

Yes, I needed this competition. Yes, I needed those recommendation letters, that automatic A.

.But I was not going down without a fight.

My hand shot up before I could second guess myself.

"Mr. Kevinson?"

He looked up from his list, eyebrows raised. "Yes, Miss Whitmore?"

"I'd like to request a different partner."

The classroom went dead silent. I could feel everyone staring, could practically hear Bryson's sharp intake of breath behind me.

"I'm sorry, Miss Whitmore, but partnerships have been finalized. We'll be starting the preliminary work this week."

"But surely there's some flexibility—"

"There is not." His voice was firm but not unkind. "I understand change can be challenging, but you can be assured that all partnerships have been thoughtfully assigned."

I sat back in my seat, my cheeks burning with embarrassment and frustration. I'd just made a scene in front of the entire class, and for nothing.

But as I stared at the chemical equations on the board, one thought crystallized in my mind: Bryson Gray had a hand in this, and I wasn’t going to let him get away with it.