Page 5 of Letting it Ride

Annika snorts. “You have the patience of a saint, Addie. I don’t even know what I’d do if one of my students was that oblivious. He’s lucky to have you.”

And she’s lucky that the football players all clamor to take their required English classes from Mr. Winston, whose class is apparently boring, but easy. She’d absolutely crucify some of those kids. I caught the tail end of her class once when I popped in at the end of a free block. When none of the students gave what she considered acceptable answers about the underlying themes of King Lear, she added an essay on the topic to their homework on the spot. Five pages.

For the record, I have a college degree, and I still don’t know the underlying themes of any of Shakespeare’s works. Don’t tell Annika.

I circle a red A- on the top of Lily Hutchin’s paper and place it face-down in the completed pile. “You make anyone cry today?” I tease.

She pretends to be offended. “I would never make my students cry! I’m warm and fuzzy. I just want them to feel good about themselves even if they can’t read.” She can’t stop a smirk from crossing her face as she tells the lie. “But yes. Only one. I handed back the papers they wrote on A Tale of Two Cities, and there were some real stinkers in there. It’s like they don’t even try.” Her nose crinkles.

“Whose life did you ruin with that grade?” I ask, mildly curious. It’s amazing how much the honors students think that one bad grade is going to tank their future. I know I was convinced of this fallacy back in high school, too.

Spoiler: No one cares about your grade in geometry or world history after the tenth grade.

“Joanna Bloom. I just pointed out that if she wrote papers of this caliber in college, she’d get kicked out in the first semester.” Annika shrugs.

I bite my cheek to keep from laughing. I happen to know that Joanna just got accepted into the engineering program at MIT. I’m pretty sure she’ll be able to get her degree there without ever writing another paper on classic literature.

I circle a B+ on the top of the next paper, cringing slightly. I’m sure this grade will be a devastating blow to David Hannah’s honors ego. He and Joanna cancommiserate during Chess Club. I add it to the pile before I cap the pen and look up.

“Well, I have news. I might have a lead on something to do for spring break.”

Annika noticeably perks up. “Are you reconsidering Myrtle Beach? I wasn’t going to go, but I will if you do.”

She makes the same salary as me—in other words, not much—but her parents still pay for her to join them on vacations. She invited me to go with them to Myrtle Beach this year, but there’s something that doesn’t sit right with me about being twenty-seven and bumming a vacation from your friend’s parents.

I wave her off. “No, I already told you I can’t afford a real vacation, and I don’t want to tag along like a third wheel with your family. But my brother texted me earlier. Apparently, he committed to a cruise or something and he can’t go, so he’s offering me his spot.Andhe’s going to pay for it. I’m not sure why he can’t just cancel, but I’m willing to check it out.”

Annika pulls a dark red lipstick out of her purse and reapplies it, using her phone’s camera as a mirror. “That sounds amazing. How many days? Where to?”

Huh. I didn’t even think to ask. “Uh… I assume the Caribbean? Are there cruises to other places?”

She lets out a boisterous laugh thatechoes off the classroom walls. I wish her students could see this side of her, the way she is with her friends. Maybe then they’d realize she’s actually human. She’s strict as shit, sure, but that’s because she believes they’re all capable of doing better.

Also, I think she secretly likes being known as a hard-ass.

Annika brushes a nonexistent stray hair back into place. “Um, cruises go to about a zillion places. It could be going to Alaska. Might want to check into that before you pack your bikini.”

Full house, jacks over tens. A solid hand. I click to raise the bet in the online poker game, then watch as most of the other players fold.

I know Maddox likes to think he’s the only good poker player in the family, but I’m not half bad. Although, to be fair, Maddox is the one who taught me everything I know.

One year, when I was about ten and he was seventeen, my parents bought him a poker set for Christmas. He offered to teach me and Josie, and we took him up on it. The buy-in was a king-sized Snickers bar. Santahad put one in each of our stockings, and Maddox wanted all of them for himself.

So, he passed out the chips and taught us the different card combinations and hands. Even back then, he was good at poker, but I had beginner’s luck on my side and managed to win the final showdown.

I offered him a bite of one of the Snickers as a consolation prize. That was the last time he wanted to play with me. I wonder if Maddox has started teaching Julio about poker yet. Our mom and stepdad adopted the nine-year-old a year ago, and he’s been a great fit for our family since.

From that first poker game, I was hooked and started playing with anyone who was interested. Sometimes for money, sometimes for stuff, but mostly just for fun. I’m pretty good now and make a little extra money playing online poker when I have free time.

The avatars on the screen show their cards, and sure enough, this hand is mine. I click to cash out and leave the game before my luck turns.

There’s a new message in my inbox, so I open my mail to see what spam I’m getting now. Amazingly enough, among ten messages trying to sell me things—and thank goodness, none asking me for help with something—one message is a forwarded message from Maddox that starts withI’ll owe you forever.

I’m pretty sure he owes me forever already, for a variety of reasons, but I scroll down the email chain. He’s forwarded me an email from Cam.

Camden Allen.

Seeing the name makes my stomach flip as I picture the sandy brown hair that’s always just a little bit messy and the blue eyes that sparkle with gold when he laughs. He’s my big brother’s best friend and my long-time crush. Like,longtime.

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