Everyone but me. My mind goes completely blank. I don't even process what I'm reading. It's like there's this magnetic pull tugging at me and forcing me to look over my shoulder. When I do, I catch his eyes. His gorgeous blue eyes that bore into mine. There's no expression on his face, it's just as blank as mine. But his eyes tell me all that I need to know—he felt it, too.
A thunderous slap on my table snaps me out of it. "Focus, Nadia. You can't afford not to finish this," Mrs. Hargrove says. I look down at my paper and press the pencil to it, looking back one last time for a sliver of a second. His gaze shifts up from his paper and he flashes me a smile. Not just any smile. One that sends butterflies fluttering through my stomach. Warming me from the inside out as my pencil begins slipping through my fingers like jelly.
What in the world was that?
This heart-pounding, palms sweating, agonizing feeling. It's ridiculous. It's Zack. The most enigmatic person I've ever met.
Once we finish up and I'm sure that I failed, Mrs. Hargrove collects our papers. Another thing that is far different from the Academy. Everything there was done on our laptops. Everything here is so...old school.
Class is dismissed and we all hustle out. I'm walking down the hall when I hear my name called from behind me. I turn around, fully expecting it to be Zack, but it's not. It's a tall blond wearing a pair of blue jeans, a white button-up polo, and a pair of black Chucks. He's strikingly handsome and so much more put together than Zack. His fingers rake through his hair and he tips his chin up, calling me over to him.
Pressing my hand to my chest, I mouth, 'me.' He gives me a nod, so I walk at an amble pace to his locker. There are a couple other guys standing around him, a few I saw yesterday talking with Zack when he snubbed me about my locker combination. "I'm Jonas." He points to each guy as he introduces them. "This is Brock and TJ."
"Nice to meet you guys. I better get going." I shoot my thumb over my shoulder. "I've got quite the walk to my locker and I'd hate to be late for my next class again."
"Let me walk you," Jonas says. "I've got a pretty laid-back teacher next hour. "Won't matter if I'm a bit late."
"Oh, sure. Thanks."
Jonas stuffs his hands in his pockets as we walk in step together down the hall. "So, how do you like it here so far?"
"It's not bad. A little different than I expected."
"Oh yeah? How so?"
I attempt to explain what I mean without sounding like I'm bashing the students here. "I guess I just expected people to be a little more friendly."
"Friendly?" He laughs. "You don't think we're friendly? Look at me walking to your locker."
I snicker in response. "I didn't mean everyone. Just a few of the students I've met."
"You mean Lacey?"
"Amongst others."
"Yeah. Lacey is a bit hard to handle. Zack, though, he tries. He's just sort of a puzzle that no one will ever be able to put together. It's like there's a piece missing that he's searching for."
I watch him and nod as he speaks. He just explained Zack to a T. That's exactly how he portrays himself to me. I'm glad I'm not the only one who noticed. I was starting to think that he was behaving that way toward me because he had some sort of vendetta against me. Then again, there is no denying that moment of chemistry we just had. It was fierce and electric. Regardless, it doesn't mean anything. "Yeah, I've sort of gathered that from him. Are you two friends?"
Clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth, his head sways back and forth. "I wouldn't say we're friends, per se. But, we do run with the same crowd. Him and Brock are tight. Zack hangs out with a lot of people, but he doesn't get too close to anyone."
We reach my locker and I twist the com in then pop it open. Gasping, I jump back when an abundance of volleyballs fall out. At least six of them. Some of them roll down the hall, a couple linger around our feet. “What the hell?” I huff. I look up and down the hall, but students just carry on with their business. A couple of them pick the balls up and begin bouncing them and playing catch.
Jonas bends down and retrieves one. Palming it in his hand, he eyes me. “Who would do this?”
“Your guess is as good as mine. Though, I think we both know who is capable.”
“You think it was Lacey?”
“Or Zack. He knows my combination. Then again, so do a few others thanks to him.” Averting my eyes back to Jonas, I tilt my head. “Including you.”
Craning his neck, he snickers, “You think I did this?”
“No,” I shake my head, “I don’t think it was you.” It had to be Zack.
“I still don’t get why anyone would put volleyballs in your locker. Did you play?”
Bending down in front of my locker, I shuffle through my bag with wide eyes. I did play. But, no one here knows that nor should they care. But, someone does. Something tells me this wasn’t an acknowledgement of my sport. It was more than that. They are acknowledging that they know what I did and who I did it with.
They wanna play hardball, bring it on.
7
Zack
“Dude, it was fucking hilarious. The balls just rolled down the hall while she stood there confused as hell.” Brock laughs while I dribble the basketball in his driveway. I take a shot and it swishes in the net. Brock jumps up and grabs it before it hits the pavement. “I stood at the end of the hall and got the whole thing on video. I’ll show ya when we go inside.”
“Nah, bro. I don’t need to see that shit.” I slap the ball out of his hand and dribble it a few times before shooting again.
“It was your idea. Why are you acting like this?”
Stopping my movements, I press my palms to my knees and bend over. “I’m not acting like anything. I just want the fucking truth.”
“And filling her locker with balls is gonna get you that truth?”
“No. But, it’s my way of showing her that someone knows what she did.”
“I wish you’d just tell me what the fuck you’re talking about. What could that girl have possibly done to piss you off so bad.”
“I’m not pissed!” I shout, “I’m fucking furious!”
Holding his hands up in surrender, he takes a step back. “Woah, calm down. I was just asking.”
“Doesn’t matter what she did. I just need to get her to admit she lied, so I can get my life back.”
“Might help if you told us—”
“I said it doesn’t matter,” I shout, louder than I planned to. Collecting my composure, I take a deep breath. “Sorry, man. I’ve just got a lot of shit going on and my heads a mess.”
“Don’t worry,” he slaps a hand to my back with the ball curled under his arm. “We’ve got you.”
“I know you do. Appreciate it, buddy.” I know Brock means what he says. I know all these guys have my back, but the problem is, they can’t help me in the ways that I really need help, because they have no idea what’s really going on in my life. Everyone knows about the blow up with my old man, but no one knows about the fallout after that. We decided it was best to keep things as quiet as possible and while I was doing just that, everyone fucking bailed on me. Now, they’re both gone and I’m stuck here trying to survive with nothing but the shoes on my goddamn feet.