Rider laughed under his breath as he pivoted around. “I don’t know, man. That might be expecting too much.”
The principal’s large chest rose with a deep, patience-seeking breath and then he looked at me. He squinted. “That’s not the kind of boy you want to be spending your time with,” he advised, and I flinched at the wild assumption. I didn’t even think he knew who I was, even if Carl and Rosa had spoken to him. “The path that boy’s heading down is not one you want to be along for the ride on. You’d better be on the way to wherever you’re supposed to be.”
Before I could respond, Principal Washington was off, stalking down the hall and toward the offices. The happy buzz from completing my speech faded as I replayed the principal’s words and tone, the way he’d treated Rider, in my head.
No expectation.
No respect.
* * *
Keira gave her speech in class without any projectile body fluid, so the good feels returned and the run-in at lunch felt like forever ago. I was even happy for Paige when she strutted up to the front of the class and delivered her speech on the first five presidents of the United States.
She was back to herself. Sort of. Gone were the baggy sweats and messy ponytail. She was back in skintight blue jeans and sweater, and her hair was sleek and straight. She’d been ignoring me the last couple of days, so I wasn’t surprised when she didn’t look in my direction when she took her seat.
There hadn’t been a lot of brain space lately to think about where Paige and Rider were, but I did notice that there wasn’t any touching or kissing. They spoke. They smiled at one another. Well, Paige smiled at him and I couldn’t see his response, but that was the extent of it.
When the bell rang, I heard Paige ask Rider to call her and then she left the class as Keira walked up to my desk. “How did you do at lunch? No hurling?”
“Good...I guess. No hurling.” I paused as my right hand squeezed tight against my thigh. “You did awesome.”
“I know!” she exclaimed. “God, I am so glad to be done with it.”
Rider stood and reached over to my desk, picking up my notebook and paper as he rose a brow. “One speech down. Only a billion more to go.”
Well, realizing that sucked.
Keira laughed. “Yeah, but neither of us threw up!” She clapped her hands together. “Yay, us!”
A smile broke out across my face.
“There were a couple of rough seconds where I thought it was going to happen,” she said, watching Rider as he swooped down and picked up my bag. “But I managed not to do it.”
“We all appreciated that,” Rider teased. He put my notebook in my bag.
“I bet,” she replied. “So what about your speech? I’m sure you’re just going to be awesome.”
“Something like that,” he said.
Standing, I reached for my bag. Our fingers brushed, the brief touch a strange jolt to my system, and I jerked my hand back. My gaze flew up to his and our eyes met. Pink infused his cheeks as he looked away, focusing on what appeared to be the monumental task of finding the perfect spot in my bag for my notebook to occupy. The skipping in my pulse turned into a hopping in my chest.
“So, yeah...” Keira murmured as she glanced at Rider. Grinning, she started to back away. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”
Rider gave a curt nod as he zipped up my bag.
I wiggled my fingers in her direction.
“You ready?” he asked.
Nodding again, I followed him toward the front of the classroom, but before we could walk out, Mr. Santos appeared.
“Rider,” he said, taking off his glasses. “You got a moment?”
He glanced at me and back to the teacher. “Yeah.”
Mr. Santos smiled in my direction as he placed his hand on Rider’s shoulder and led him to the center of the chalkboard. Even though I was by the door and there was a lot going on out in the hallway, I could still hear them.
“You ready for your speech?” Mr. Santos asked.
“Of course,” he replied.
A look of doubt crossed the teacher’s face. “Are you sure about that?”
One side of Rider’s lips curled up, but he didn’t say anything.
“I’ve given you a lot of passes in class. I know you get bored and you’d rather be using your hands, creating something, but I need you to take this class seriously.”
Rider didn’t respond, and I shifted where I stood, uncomfortable.
“You know I’m here if you need to talk,” Mr. Santos said, and the smirk slipped off Rider’s face. He stiffened. “Don’t throw your talent away. Okay?”
Rider didn’t reply and then he was dismissed. My gaze was glued to him. A muscle along his jaw worked as he walked over to me. Why would Rider need to talk to Santos? What did Mr. Santos know about Rider that I didn’t?
I knew the answer to that question without asking.
Everything.
We walked out into the crowded hall. “Is...is everything okay?”
“Yeah. Yes.” He glanced down at me, features slightly relaxed. “Look at you.”
“Look at me?”
Rider reached down and folded his hand around mine, causing a jolt to travel up my arm. He started walking, still holding my hand. “You had this huge smile on your face the whole class. I want to see that smile again.”
“I’m...just happy I did it even though I sucked.”
“I’m sure you didn’t suck.”
I begged to differ on that. Mr. Santos probably would, too, but he was too nice and patient to do so. My gaze dropped to our joined hands. This...this was new, and deep down, in my heart of hearts, I liked the feel and weight of his hand, but it was wrong. Some friends might hold hands, but I knew enough to know that wasn’t how people would perceive it.