Page 19 of Ruthless Court
“You busy, Hannah Banana?”
“Painfully.”
“I need a favor.”
“No.”
“I didn’t ask yet.”
“You only call me Hannah Banana when you want academic fraud.”
He flashes the smile that works on teachers, mothers, and most girls under twenty.
“I don’t need you to do it. Just clean it up.”
He turns his laptop toward me.
A blank document fills the screen.
I look at him.
“Clean up what?”
“I have the ideas.”
“Where?”
“In my head.”
“Keep them there. They sound safe.”
He leans across the table. “Come on. I have film after practice, and the paper closes at midnight.”
“So does my scholarship application.”
“Scholarship for what?”
“College.”
“I know that. Where?”
I glance through the glass.
Dad stands under the basket, physically moving Brandon’s elbow into position.
“California.”
The player laughs.
“Your dad will never let you go to California.”
The pencil in my hand snaps.
His eyebrows rise.
I look down at the broken pieces.
Then at him.
