Page 2 of The Perfect Game

We walked down the hall, meeting Penny and Kate in our spot near the doors. “Should we head out for lunch?” Kate asked.

“No Jake today?” I asked Penny, surprised to see her without her other half. It was a relief to not see them kissing and holding hands. I never thought Penny would be that kind of girl, all giggly around a boy, but I’d been wrong. Thinking about my own situation, even I hadn’t lived up to avoiding swooning over an attractive senior. Ever since she and Jake had figured things out at the dance, it seemed like they couldn’t stop holding hands or kissing. It was all innocent, but still. Gross.

Penny shook her head. “No, he had to stay and get some help in math. He’s hoping to bump his grade up before the final next week.”

“Aren’t we all?” I muttered, again annoyed about my current grades. A wave of panic took over, and I wondered what life would be like on the bench next year if I couldn’t pass all my classes. In English there was hope, if I could get someone to attend the play with me. Math was my best subject, so I didn’t worry about that. But art, I was hopeless when it came to anything but stick figures. If Mr. Kendall was giving extra credit, would Ms. Tibbs?

With only three weeks of school before summer break, I’d need every day left to paint or draw something remotely decent to raise my grade. Was summer school a possibility to make up for a semester’s worth of bad decisions on my part? Because it was almost pointless at this stage.

A pit formed in my stomach. I opened my mouth and said, “You know what? I need to check on something for art. I’ll catch you all after school.”

Looking at my friends, you would have thought I’d just yelled,Bomb!

“Well, uh, good luck,” Kate said with a hesitant grin.

“Yeah, I know how it sounds. And don’t,” I said, raising my hand in front of Penny’s parted lips, “I’m already scolding myself, so I don’t need any lectures on taking school more seriously.”

Penny raised both hands in surrender. “Better late than on the bench, right?” She knew me too well.

I turned and trudged up the stairs, heading in the direction of the art department. Ms. Tibbs didn’t leave her room all that often, and I hoped she would be there during lunch. What would it take to pass her class?

I stared at the random off-white spot on the wall, the one I saw every time I walked to art, and just like before, I conjured up the scenario behind it. It looked like someone had tried to patch up the sheetrock, maybe after a fight between students. But the color had steadily changed over the past four months under my watchful eye. If only I needed help in science, I could propose some kind of experiment for it.

The art room was the first door on the right after turning the corner. I could get there in a trance, which is what had me transfixed on that spot on the wall. Until I plowed into what felt like a large moveable wall. The impact caused me to stumble back a few steps and fall. Even with all the drills my coaches had put me through in the past few years, I didn’t go down with grace.

“Are you all right?” a deep baritone voice asked.

I had to tilt my head back to see the tall blond figure before me. Crystal-clear blue eyes searched my face, making my thoughts go fuzzy as my gaze flicked down to his lips. Focusing on the whole face, I realized I’d just seen him with Jake after class.

Ben the Pitcher.

I pushed off the floor, tugging my shirt back down. “Yep, I’m good.” My usual sarcastic nature seemed to be off-kilter from the fall. I looked up again, unsure of what to say. I’d never talked to him before, and it seemed those eyes had some sort of power to throw off my whole attitude. Something about him made goosebumps pop up all over my arms.

“You’re sure?” he asked, reaching his hand out but stopping a few inches away from my arm, hesitating.

I raised a hand and forced a smile. “Really. I should have watched where I was going anyway. Good luck on your upcoming games, and I’ll, uh, see you around.” What was my deal? Why was I so flustered around him?

Ben looked as though he wanted to say something else but nodded and walked down the hall. Once he was out of eyesight, I realized my breathing had increased as though I’d just run sprints or something. Weird.

My stomach growled, and I spun back to the door of the classroom, remembering why I’d opted to skip lunch. Once in the art room, I glanced around. It took several seconds to spot the teacher crouched behind the pottery wheel. As I stepped closer, I saw her with a screwdriver, turning something on the machine.

“Something broken, Ms. Tibbs?” I asked, enjoying the moment as she jumped back in surprise.

When she relaxed, she said, “Yeah, I’m trying to figure out why it’s making strange sounds. But I might need to ask the auto department. I have no experience with fixing machinery.” She stood, wiping her hands on her paint-stained pants. Adjusting her glasses, she focused on me. “What is it you need, Serena?”

“I, uh, well, I couldn’t remember what you’d said we could do for extra credit.”

A close-lipped smile did nothing to make me feel better about the practical begging I was doing. “Yes, your grade is on the border of failing.”

Nothing like putting things bluntly.

“I know, and that’s why I’m here. What can I do to boost it?” I forced out a smile, hoping she’d get the hint that I needed this more than I cared to admit.

“I’m assuming you have to make up points in English as well?” Ms. Tibbs shuffled a few papers back and forth on her desk.

“I might.” I frowned, confused as to how this connected to my bad grade in English.

She nodded. “Good. Since we know your skills in drawing are somewhat lacking, I’ll give you another assignment. There is a small art gallery on the first level of the Hayes Theater. I want you to walk through it before whatever performance you’re going to. Pick one painting that inspires you and write a paper about the style of the art, why you like it, and what you think the artist’s reason for creating it was.”

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