Page 15 of Race to Me

I scoff. “It’s a free country. I can go wherever I want.”

He looks me dead in the eye. “If I see you there, I will personally throw you onto my bike and take you home. That’s a fucking promise.”

What’s so bad about it that he doesn’t want me to go? Or is it that he’s embarrassed to be seen with the ‘perfect’ rich girl around his friends?

“I’m going.” I argue, keeping my voice level.

“I’m not playing around, Skyler.” Foster puts major annunciation on the full use of my name. It bothers me, and I don’t know why. “I don’t want to see you there.”

“You know, I thought we were cool.” I nearly laugh at my stupidity. “I thought maybe we could be friends.”

“You thought wrong,” His tone is void of emotion, like he could care less that he’s talking to me.

“Whatever, Foster.”

He scoffs, raising his voice when he snaps, “It’s fucking Ghost.” Students look and hushed whispers circulate the room. I’m so heated that I don’t care. Dyer is too busy on his laptop that he simply shushes the class without acknowledging anything else.

Without warning, Foster storms out of the classroom. The bell rings right then, and I gather my things slowly. Why is he so hot and cold? Why does he not want me to go? The devil on my shoulder is telling me to, but another, angrier part of myself is whispering to not waste my time.

I don’t want this stupid jacket reminding me of Foster and his shit attitude all day. I throw it on his empty side of the desk, defying my own rule of no jackets on the table, and I toss my belongings into my bag.

I stand with every intention of walking out of the room and leaving his stupid jacket there ... but I’m covered in coffee and it does smell kind of nice.

∞∞∞

“So, is it official?” Brett asks me as we head towards Kate.

I give him a confused expression. “Is what official?”

“Normally, when a guy gives a girl his letterman, they’re dating. I guess with delinquents they give you leather jackets instead.”

I scoff, retorting, “That sounds like high school, Brett. Also, I’m not his girl. I spilled coffee on myself.” I open it up and showcase the brown sticky mess on my white cotton dress.

He stifles a laugh. “I’ll never understand how you cheer. You’ve always been clumsy as shit.”

∞∞∞

The remainder of the day drags on, and before I head to the parking lot, I change into my uniform for practice, so I don’t have to sport a soiled dress after I give Foster back his jacket.

The sun blares down, making me sweat while I lean against my car and wait for him to show. After ten minutes, the girl with black and neon green streaks in her hair comes bouncing over. Her hand is out, and she doesn’t say a word.

I smile at her, confused. “What’s up?”

She motions with her hand again, holding it out further. “Can I have it?”

“What?” My voice rises to an unfamiliar octave, matching the contorted expression on my face.

She taps her thick leather boots against the concrete, clearly irritated that I can’t read her mind. “Ghost’s jacket,”

I can’t help the laugh that escapes my lips. “He’s a big boy. Why can’t he get it himself?”

She twirls her green nails around her hair, adding, “He’s busy getting dressed.” The devilish smirk on her face leaves little to be desired, and the disheveled look of her cut-off shirt mixed with tangled hair tells me exactly why.

I take it off and hand it to her without a word.

She graces me with an eye roll before stomping away.

I’m not going to practice today. Fuck that.

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