“You should be working on your speech instead of staring,” Rider said, never taking his eyes off his notebook.
Paige’s dark eyes flew to me and then narrowed.
Heat exploded across my cheeks.
“And you should actually be working on, I don’t know, your speech?” Hector grinned as he gestured to his paper, which appeared to have actual words on it. “And please don’t stare at him, Mallory. Because of Paige, his ego is already big enough. He doesn’t need any help.”
“Pendejo,” Rider murmured under his breath.
Hector stretched an arm back and extended his middle finger. “You wish.”
I had no idea what was said.
Paige lifted her hand from Rider’s leg and jabbed her elbow onto the table. Her chin plopped into the palm of her hand. “So, Mallory, are you excited about giving your speech next week?”
I stiffened. Assuming that the class had no idea that I didn’t have to give my speech like they did, I dreaded them figuring it out.
“Who would be excited about that?” Hector asked.
Paige lifted a slender shoulder as she watched me. “So, are you?”
Beside her, Rider lifted his head. He opened his mouth, and I knew he was either going to say something to distract Paige or he was going to answer the question for me. I couldn’t allow that after the conversation we’d had.
I forced my tongue to move. “I won’t...be giving my speech...in class.” Warmth seeped into my cheeks as I continued to force the words out. “I have to...give mine during lunch.”
“What?” She laughed.
Rider stared at me, surprise shining through his gaze.
Tension straightened my shoulders. “I don’t...have to do it...like everyone else.”
“Really?” Her eyes widened as she glanced between the guys. “That doesn’t seem fair.”
My heart dropped.
“Who cares if it is?” Hector responded, shrugging. “Doesn’t affect me.”
Paige leaned back in her chair. “But it’s so not cool. The rest of us have to do it and she doesn’t? Why?”
“The why doesn’t matter,” Rider said, his gaze still on me. “And Hector is right about this not affecting him or any of us.”
I started to respond.
Slowly, Paige turned her head to him. “And if it were, say, Laura or Leon who didn’t have to give their speech, would you think it was okay?”
Rider broke eye contact with me. “Yeah. Because it wouldn’t affect me and I wouldn’t care.”
“But you do care,” she shot back, and I wanted to slink under the desk, because there was no way anyone missed her tone.
“Paige,” sighed Rider as he shook his head. “Let’s not do this.”
She leaned to the side and stretched her neck out. “Let’s not do what, Rider?”
“Oh, man,” Hector muttered under his breath.
Mr. Santos was suddenly there, silencing us as he eyed Rider’s work. I tensed, expecting him to get upset since Rider wasn’t working on his speech.
His absentminded smile didn’t fade as he leaned in, eyes squinting behind wire-rimmed glasses. “The detail and the shading are amazing. It’s like the strand of flowers is going to just come right off the page.”
My jaw might’ve hit the floor.
Pink spread across Rider’s cheeks as he lowered the pen he still held.
“Not surprised, though.” Mr. Santos clamped a hand on Rider’s shoulder. “Your work has always been on point.”
My brows rose. Santos had seen Rider’s work before? And why in the heck wasn’t he reprimanding him?
Rider said nothing as Santos squeezed his shoulder. “But try working on your speech now and the sketch later? All right?”
“Sure,” Rider muttered, dropping his pen onto his desk.
Mr. Santos turned his attention to my paper and he scanned the page. “Interesting,” he murmured, and I cringed. His smile didn’t falter as he stepped closer to my desk.
I wetted my lower lip nervously and forced the words floating in my head to reach my tongue. “I...I am not...very good at writing speeches.” I paused, taking a deep breath. “Or at...giving them.”
There! I spoke to Mr. Santos all on my own, without anyone speaking on my behalf. I sat a little straighter.
“Public speaking is much like art. Being good at it is very subjective, Mallory.”
Pressing my lips together, I lifted my gaze to him, having no idea where he was going with this.
“But it’s all about trying.” Santos nodded at my paper, and suddenly I wondered if he was talking about my mad dash out of the classroom the first week of school and the subsequent call with Carl and Rosa. I hadn’t tried then. “It’s not about getting it right the first time and it’s most definitely not about perfection, but if you try, you succeed. Just like you would in art. Or in life, for that matter.” He then patted my shoulder. “And by the looks of it, you’re trying.”
I blinked slowly.
Santos roamed off, back to the front of the class.
“What in the actual hell,” murmured Paige.
I looked over at Rider, and his grin was slow, but the dimple in his right cheek appeared. “Deep thoughts,” he murmured.
My nod was just as slow. “How...did you not just get in trouble?”
“I’m gifted.”
I narrowed my eyes on him. “And how...does he know about your artwork?”
Hector snorted as he looked up from his paper, responding before Rider could. “Because when Rider was a sophomore, he decided to do some exterior decorating on the outside of Lands High.”