Page 142 of Shy Girls Can't Date Rockstars
“You already thanked me.”
“I know, but I mean it. I played better with you there. I think I’ll always play better with you around.”
The car slows as we approach Ashworth Academy. Through the window, there’s the usual morning chaos with clusters of students and the buzz of weekend gossip.
“Ready?” Ryder asks, giving my hand a gentle squeeze.
Not even close, but I nod anyway.
We walk into English class together, and the shift in the room is immediate. I swear both the whispers and the turning of heads are causing small gusts of wind in every direction.
Ms. Patterson is writing on the board, but when her gaze lands on Ryder, her expression pinches with disappointment.
“Mr. Hamilton,” she says, halting him from making it further into the classroom. “A word?”
Ryder stops dead. “Now?”
“Now.”
When he moves closer to Ms. Patterson’s desk, she says, “I’m very displeased that you didn’t submit your essay on Friday.”
My stomach drops.
He didn’t turn it in?
“I know, I’m sorry,” Ryder says with mild regret. “Things got crazy with the showcase prep, and I—“
“I understand you have commitments outside of school,” Ms. Patterson interrupts, her tone firm but not unkind. “But this is your education. Your future.” She sighs hard and her gaze lands on me. “I knew Alice being your tutor wasn’t a wise choice, considering the unfortunate circumstances of her arrival.”
The blood drains from my face.
Right at that moment, Chloe walks past Ms. Patterson’s desk and squawks, “What unfortunate circumstances?”
The classroom goes quiet, and every eye turns to me.
“Chloe, sit down,” Ms. Patterson says, but the damage is done.
“No, seriously,” Chloe presses, settling into her seat. “What circumstances? Like, did something happen?”
“It’s personal,” Ms. Patterson says firmly, but her attempt to shut down the conversation only makes it worse.
“Oh my gosh, what happened?” someone asks from the back row.
“Is that why she transferred mid-year?”
“I heard she got kicked out of her old school.”
“No, I heard she moved here to be closer to Ryder.”
The speculation builds, voices overlapping each other, and my chest constricts.
They can’t know. They can’t find out about Mom and Dad. I can already imagine the pity, the questions, and the way they’ll dissect my grief like it’s gossip.
“Everyone, settle down,” Ms. Patterson says, but the chatter continues.
My breathing is coming too fast. The room is tilting.
“Alice?” Ryder leans closer, his hand reaching for my wrist. “Are you okay? You look really pale.”
