Page 26 of Wild Card 13

I sat slouched against the cinderblock wall with one leg stretched across the tile and my hockey bag dumped beside me while I bounced a tennis ball off the opposite wall hard enough to irritate people on purpose.

Catch.

Throw.

Catch.

Throw.

The empty hallway amplified every sound after school hours. Lockers clanging somewhere farther down near the math wing. A janitor dragging a garbage can across tile. The faint squeak of sneakers from the gym.

Peterson’s classroom door stayed closed. Which felt personal at this point. Potentially still failing biology. The game tomorrow night suddenly felt very theoretical.

The tennis ball smacked against the wall again.

“Mr. Burns.”

I looked up. Vice Principal Hennessey stood halfway down the hallway already looking tired of me specifically.

“Stop throwing things at school property.”

“It’s a tennis ball.”

“It’s annoying.”

I caught the ball one last time and stuffed it into my hoodie pocket while Hennessey kept walking with the expression of a man deeply reconsidering his career in public education.

I leaned my head back against the wall and exhaled slowly.

Okay. Maybe slightly freaking out.

Not because I thought I failed. I definitely thought I failed.

But because Lucy had spent weeks trying to force mitochondria into my skull like she personally refused to let me remain academically illiterate.

And now if I bombed the test anyway?

She was never letting me live it down.

That thought should not have made me grin.

Unfortunately, it did.

Which honestly felt medically concerning at this point.

The night before kept replaying in my head on an endless loop.

Frozen lake.

Cold air.

Lucy kissing me like she was nervous and brave at the same time.

Will you be my girlfriend?

Yeah.

Simple as that.