Page 45 of The Do-Over

“Emilie, I have a note here that says you need to go to the counselor’s office.”

“Okay.” I stood up from my desk and walked toward Mr. Smith, my Calculus teacher. The man was a walking nose hair,so I looked at the smartboard behind him when I said, “Thanks.”

The DONC had lost a little of its excitement after seeing Josh, mainly because he’d behaved the same way he always had, which was perfect.

Ugh. So, so perfect. Like, the way he’d smiled when he’d seen me by his locker; that didn’t look like the smile of someone who was done with me and moving on to Macy. Maybe Ihadn’tbeen wrong about everything.

Right?

I was grabbing the handle of the office door when I heard laughing in the direction of the snack store. I glanced over my shoulder and—of course—the melodically tinkling giggle came from Macy Goldman. She was laughing in the hallway, tossing her hair like a supermodel, and looking down at—

Oh.

Even after the repetitive days of witnessing them kissing, my chest felt like it was caving in as I saw Josh sitting on the floor with Noah, smiling up at Macy. He was smiling up at her inthatway. The exact same enamored way he’d looked at me.

For the first time since I’d seen them kiss, I wasn’t hurt or sad—I was pissed. Livid, actually. So angry I wanted to kick things over or possibly punch something. I gritted my teeth and went into the office. I didn’t even bother with Mrs. Svoboda, but instead just went straight back to Kessler’s office.

“Here she is now.”

I walked into his office but I didn’t sit. I didn’t look at him, either. I just crossed my arms and seethed, glaring at the womanwho was about to yank away my summer as if she was responsible for everything that had gone wrong in my life. She wasn’t, but she was unfortunate enough to be there when it hit the fan.

“If you’re here to tell me there was a mistake and I didn’t win the spot in the summer program, don’t bother. I need that for scholarship and college applications—and I’m not misusing the word ‘need’ here—and you arenotgoing to yank it away from me.” I gritted my teeth and the lady looked at me as if she was a little scared. “Just because you have someone on staff who can’t count doesn’t mean I should lose my only shot at a Pulitzer.”

“Emilie.” Mr. Kessler tilted his head. “Why don’t you sit down?”

“Can’t.” I held up a hand. “I have someplace I have to be, but you guys are going to have to go back to the drawing board and find a way to make this right.”

The woman cleared her throat and looked confused. “How on earth did you know what I was going to say?”

I shrugged. “Intuitive, I guess. Probably what will make me such a stellar journalist, don’t you think?”

On that note, I left. What more was there to say?

And it felt good,doingsomething. Instead of being dragged along by my life, I was leading the charge with my fingers wrapped around its scrawny neck. For good or bad, this day was all about me proactivating the shit out of my life.

Because nothing mattered.

Mrs. Svoboda wasn’t at her desk anymore. It was empty, her chair vacant, and the microphone for the overhead speakers entirely unattended.

Um.

I glanced around. Nick Stark was sitting on a chair in the office, looking down at his phone. Talk about ironic. I looked at his handsome face and was slapped with a melancholic sadness. Because we’d had an incredible yesterday and had talked on the phone mere hours ago—his had been the last voice I’d heard before falling asleep—yet he knew nothing of it. We were basically strangers again, but I knew what he would buy for a girlfriend if he had one on Valentine’s Day.

And I knew he smelled like the cleanest bar of soap.

Focus, Em.

The principals each had their office doors closed, and the nurse was talking on the phone.

I couldn’t.

Could I?

I went around the desk, sat in Svoboda’s chair, and leaned forward. My heart pounded as I pressed the button.

“A-attention, Hazelwood students. I would like to announce that Josh Sutton is a total ass-bag.” I giggled. Seriously. A giggle popped out of my mouth, and my lips curved up into a huge smile as I leaned back a little in the chair. “This is Emilie Hornby, and I am officially dumping you, Josh, because you suck.”

Nick’s head shot up and he looked over at me like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing, and I shrugged because I couldn’t believe it either. “You suck so hard, you pompous jag with a stupid car, and I donotwant you to be my Valentine.” I let go of the button, but then pushed it again and said, “Oh, yeah, andit’s so pathetic that you refer to your friend group as “the Bards” like you’re characters fromDead Poets Societyor something—you freaking wish. Emout.”

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