I will not have Evans bringing me down.
The dean’s expression softens, and he’s suddenly the proud man in photos of my preschool graduation and elementary school plays. In this brief moment, he’s my dad’s best friend and practically an uncle to me, not the strict dean. “I’m sure you will.”
He dismisses us, and we silently leave the office, but as soon as we’re in the hallway, I turn on Evans. He’s about to get a quick lesson on how things work around here.
“I can’t believe you made me look inept,” I say, jabbing my finger into his chest.
He scowls.
Just then, an instructor turns the corner and sees us. I stand up straight. “Good morning, Rear Admiral,” I say. He nods at me, then eyes Evans, who is now standing with his arms crossed over his chest. I knock him with my elbow hard enough to make him flinch. His scowl grows, but he drops his arms and greets the instructor.
When the instructor disappears through a doorway, I glare at Evans again. “I gave you a tiny bit of freedom and you made me look bad.” I lower my voice as I say, “Your days here just got a whole lot worse.”
“Bite me,” he says, before storming off down the hallway.
I stare after him with my jaw practically touching the ground. He did not just say that to me.
CHAPTER 7
LOGAN
“It’s gonna take two coats,” Earl, the janitor, says while scratching the white whiskers on his chin.
“Okay, so what do I do?” I ask, ready to get started. Paige, in all her ass-kissing glory, lost us an entire week to finish this. I have no idea how long it will take, but since we only have two hours of personal time each weekday and sixteen hours on the weekend, I have a feeling we’ll be cutting it close.
And I can’t get into any more trouble with the dean. Not even an hour after being reamed out by him, I got the dreaded request to go to the main office. I assumed it was round two with him, but it turned out to be Mr. Needleham on the phone. Needless to say, he was not happy about being contacted by the dean with what he called “bad news.” In no uncertain terms, he made it clear I needed to stay out of the dean’s office or I could kiss any sort of decent plea bargain goodbye, meaning another incident with the dean equals jail time for me.
His call was what made me realize there will be no more video games. I can’t even imagine what I’ll do around here during my personal time now. Stare at a wall and go insane, probably. At least I won’t have to worry about that for a couple of weeks with the dean’s punishment.
“Scoop up a little of the wax like this,” Earl says, wrapping a cloth around his hand and sticking it into the tub.
Just then, the door to the gym opens and Paige marches in with her typical uptight attitude. She sees me sitting on the floor next to the janitor and says, “You’re early.”
“No, you’re late,” I counter.
She glimpses at her watch, then turns her wrist in my direction. “We said we’d meet here at twenty-hundred hours. That’s in ten seconds.”
I blow out a loud breath and roll my eyes.
“Stop doing that!” she says as she settles onto the floor next to Earl. “Drop and give me ten.”
“Seriously?”
“Yes, seriously. I told you I didn’t want to see any more eye rolls.”
This is the fifth … maybe sixth time today she’s given me push-ups or laps. The first time was for telling her to “bite me.” I figured that would earn me something, so no biggie. The next was for forgetting to salute someone outside. I honestly didn’t even realize I had to salute her. Learning the stupid rank insignias isn’t as easy as you’d think. Two days ago, she would’ve let that slide and just quizzed me on the ranks again until I had it down. The new, I-will-make-your-life-miserable Paige apparently has other plans. As far as the rest of today’s push-ups, I don’t remember what they were for, which means it must’ve been stupid shit.
I shake my head as I roll into push-up position and complete ten in what I think is perfect form. On a positive note, it’s a little easier than it was last week, so all the PT and mandatory athletic time and punishments must be having some effect.
“Next time,” she says, “drop lower. Your elbows were at a hundred-degree angle, not ninety.”
“Yes, ma’am.” I don’t even try to hide my annoyance. As much as I disliked her last week, she’s taken it to a whole new level since our meeting with the dean this morning. And for the first time, I get the impression she feels the same about me. I’m beginning to wonder how this “mentoring” thing is supposed to work with two people who can’t stand each other.
Earl clearing his throat stops our arguing. “Should we get started?” he asks, smiling at me, then her.
“Yes,” both Paige and I reply together.
“You need to rub the wax in the direction of the planks like this,” he says, showing us how to do it. “Work on about a two-foot section at a time. You want a light, even coat. When it dries, it’ll be a little cloudy, but we’ll buff that out after you finish the first coat.”
“Okay,” I say with a nod. It looks easy enough. Tedious and boring, but not hard.
Paige picks up a rag of her own, and we both get started while Earl watches. It’s quiet, other than the sound of our boots squeaking on the floor whenever we move to a new section.
After a few minutes, Earl says, “You both seem to have the hang of it. I’ve got to do some painting behind the bleachers. Holler if you need anything.”
We both thank him and then continue to work while he disappears.
“You’re using too much wax,” Paige says. I look up to find her watching me.
“No, I’m not.”
“Yes, you are. The floor is white.”
“It’ll buff out.”
“Earl said it should be a little cloudy—not white.”
“God, you are annoying,” I say, scraping some of the wax off my rag and back into the tub, though it’s probably still got too much on it.
“I’m annoying? Have you looked in a mirror recently?”
I turn my back on her, ignoring her comment.
“Do not turn away when I’m talking to you, Evans.”
“What do you want from me? I’m here, doing this shitty job at this awful school, yet you’re still not happy.”
I’m facing away from her so I can’t see her reaction, but her silence is deafening. She’s never silent. “Look,” I finally say, turning around. “I’ll do a good job, okay? I can’t afford to let the dean down again. I have too much riding on this.”
“You have too much riding on this?” she says, suddenly finding her voice again. “My entire future depends on me graduating from Wallingford with top honors. I can’t have you undermining my leadership skills.”
It takes all my willpower not to roll my eyes. I’m sure her future is so much more dependent on doing well at Wallingford than mine is. She might only get into a top-100 school instead of an Ivy League one. Or maybe she’ll only be able to join ROTC as a lowly non-ranked cadet. I can absolutely guarantee she’s not headed to prison if things don’t go well.