Page 22 of The Baller

She sighed, like she was having to point out the obvious. Only it wasn’t obvious, to me at least. “I know that, and you know that, but Luxdidn’tknow that. He tried to help you, hence the romance, and we could all use a little romance.”

Romance aside, it was true, he did try and save me, kind of. Twice, if I counted the guys at the bar who’d had their phone removed. Millie was right that no one had ever done that before, not that anyone ever had the opportunity to.

She was still riding the Lux Weston bandwagon, counting each separate point on her fingers. “Three, he didn’t back down in front of Jake and the guys. Didn’t seem to care about them at all, or the fact they were armed. All the boys we’ve had trouble with over the past week have looked like they’re about to shit themselves when they get caught.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m not saying anything.” She shrugged, again, annoyingly. “I dunno. It was hot. And he’ll call you. If I recall, he was extremely confident about getting your number.”

I sighed. “That was at the bar and before he found out who I was. He didn’t ask after the fight; I gave it freely. He probably has numbers thrown at him on an hourly basis.”

It was one of the louder thoughts I’d had during the night. I’d been awake for hours listening to the voices in my head remind me over and over of what I’d done, and demonize every choice I’d ever made. One thought had rolled into another until hundreds and hundreds rattled against my skull,resulting in a pounding that was getting worse.

It was currently too loud to decipher anything coherent.

“Radley! Stop overthinking!” Millie snapped, though her annoyed expression immediately softened when she looked at me. “Are you okay? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” I shrugged. “Nothing. You’re right, I’m overthinking. I just wish…”

“What?” she asked, halting our stride and pulling me off the path. “You wish what?”

I glanced up into her clear brown eyes, always so warm and comforting. “Same as always – that my life was different, easier. That I could do normal things without having a meltdown. That I was braver. That I could be one of those girls who gives their number out just for fun, and not care about what happens after.”

“You will, Radley. You’re getting there.” Millie pulled me into a hug, the way she always did when I was on the verge of a spiral. She held me until my nervous system relaxed and I could breathe. “When’s your appointment with Doctor Jessops this week?”

“Tomorrow.”

“She’s going to say you’ve done an amazing job this week, that you’ve claimed some of your independence back – which is exactly why we’re here.” She stepped back with a grin and held her hand out for a slap. “Come on, or wewillbe late for class.”

I spied Jake waiting by the large sculpture of Rodin’sThe Thinker, outside Philosophy Hall, where most of our classes were held. His eagle eye was trained on the hordes of students exiting out of the large ornate black doors, setting off for their next class or scurrying to the library. Several groups were standing on the pathways around the enormousbrick building, and Millie and I slipped in unnoticed behind Ethan. We hurried down the hallway to where our class onShakespeare and His Timewas being held.

Professor Hawkes was perched on the edge of her desk as we filed into the auditorium behind a group of girls from Hartley Hall, who I recognized from most of our other classes. The familiarity of seeing the same faces day in day out was a surprising comfort, because it meant I was no longer a novelty. The ones who looked my way now smiled and said hi instead of gawking and falling over themselves to sit near to me.

Millie took the steps to the fourth row then shuffled down a few seats. It was far enough away from the front that we didn’t look like brown-nosers, but near enough to the door that we could make a quick exit. I’d already spotted Meg on the back row, and Ethan took a seat next to the main door.

I dropped down next to Millie, who was now struggling with the zipper on her backpack and grumbling quietly, as I pulled my laptop from mine. Both of us were too preoccupied to notice anything in front of us until the girl next to me leaned forward to a guy on the row directly in front of us.

“Put your phone away, dickhead. Everyone can see what you’re doing.” She reached out and smacked him around the head, which had him dropping his phone on the floor in shock and letting out a loud yelp. “How did you get good enough grades to get into this school? Moron.”

My entire body curled into the seat, and if I could have folded myself in half, I would have. While most of the students around us were too busy getting ready for class to pay more than three seconds of attention to what was happening, students weren’t the only ones in here.

Professor Hawkes walked up the steps until she was standing at the end of our row, holding her hand out. If I hadto guess, she was in her early thirties, though she was glaring at the guy in front with the same steely look in her eye that my mom had when she was mad.

The look no one messed with.

“I’ll take that, Mr. Kerchinsky, and perhaps you’d feel more comfortable sitting there for the remainder of the semester.” Professor Hawkes pointed to the seat on the row directly in front of her desk.

“Um… no, I’m good here, thanks,” Kerchinsky spluttered, his face turning a very healthy fire-engine red while he handed his phone over.

“It wasn’t a request. Move your ass down there or you can find a new course to take, though I’ve heard they’re all full.”

Professor Hawkes marched back to her desk and waited. Kerchinsky shoved everything back into his backpack and stormed to the front, his lip curled in an impressive snarl.

“Bye-bye,” Millie waved to him as he left the row, the girl next to me let out a loud giggle.

“Thanks for that,” I whispered to her.

“No sweat. Us girls got to stick together. Sorry this is happening; it must really suck. They’ll get bored soon. I’m Delaney.”

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