ELI . . For three days, the thought had followed me—beg her, it could change things, at least before she sends the list. Now, standing at her door, fingers hovering over the door handle, my stomach twisted. I knocked either way “Come in.” I pushed the door and dragged myself inside. The smell of chlorine hung in the air, medals and trophies decorating the walls and shelves. Ms. Susan exhaled, long and slow. “Eli,” she leaned back into the chair, her fingers gliding to her temples. “If you’re here to beg so you can compete in the finals, don’t bother.” My chest caved in. “There’s nothing I can do,” she said. I took a step closer. “Please.” My voice came out rough, too rough, the word slurred. I swallowed and tried again. “There has to be something. Anything. This is my final year. If I don’t get the scholarship…” I balled my fist by my sides. But that didn’t help with the knots in my stomach. “…everything I’ve worked for in the past four years. It’d all
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