Page 6 of The Do-Over

“By the way, did you tell your parents that your machine burned down?” He gave my phone a sideways glance, like he was waiting for me to start texting.

I looked out the window. The fact that neither of my parents had called back was nice in a way, as it postponed the immense amountof trouble I was about to be in. But it also stung a bit that they weren’t concerned about why I was contacting them when I should have been at school. Instead of explaining all those complicated emotions, I said, “No, I thought I’d save it as a surprise.”

“Good call.” He slid into a snow-packed spot, and I reminded myself that it was still Valentine’s Day. I may have lost my car and would soon be destroyed by my parents, but in a few minutes I’d be with Josh. He’d read me poetry, give me my present, I would say those magical three words, and everything else would melt away.

“Well,” I said, opening the door after he pulled to a stop and cut the engine. “Have a happy Valentine’s Day.”

“Fuck that,” Nick said, biting out the words as if I’d wished him a happy castration as he got out and slammed his door. “I fucking hate this day.”

I stepped out of the truck, took off his coat, and held it out to him when he came around. “Well, then, just have a day, I guess.”

“Sure,” he said, tossing the coat into the back of the vehicle. “Thanks.”

CONFESSION #2

I once pulled a hotel’s fire alarm because my parents were sleeping in and I wanted to get to Disneyland before there was a line to see Belle.

“Emilie, I have a note here that says you need to go to the office.” Mr. Seward, my second-hour teacher, waved a hall pass in front of his face.

“Oh.” I put down the book I wasn’t supposed to be reading, stood and grabbed my bag from the floor beside me. I’d been in the middle of a fairly intense sex scene, so my cheeks instantly got hot as I felt porn-busted.

“Oooh—Emmie’s in trouble.”

I smiled at Noah, Josh’s best friend. He was a tennis player who’d never said a single word to me until I started dating Josh. Who, coincidentally, I missed this morning because Nick and I got into school just in time for first hour. So far, this day was not going how it was supposed to.

“You know me,” I said to Noah as I shoved my book in my bag, grabbed the pass, and exited the classroom. I missed Nick Stark’s oversized jacket as I walked down the empty hallway. I’d been frozen solid since the minute I’d handed it back to him in theparking lot. I knew Josh wouldn’t have anything that utilitarian in his locker—his light-knit navy cardigan was as warm as it’d get—but I was so cold that I’d probably swing by to pick it up.

I looked down at my phone, but the only message I had was from my awful boss at work, trying to get me to come in when I wasn’t scheduled.

Not on Valentine’s Day, sir. OrStankbreath, which is what I referred to him in my head.

Which sounded mean, but he reallywasawful. He’d been known to clip his fingernails in the break room, scroll through Tinder while working even though he was married, and he’d never heard of the term “personal space.” How else would I know so much about his breath?

I put the phone in my dress pocket and wondered what the office summoning was about, but I wasn’t worried. I’d just been notified the previous week that I’d won the Alice P. Hardy Excellence in Journalism High School Fellowship, so it was probably about that.

I still had to pinch myself over that one. Not only had I been accepted into the prestigious summer journalism program, where I’d get to stay in an apartment in Chicago and work alongside fifty other high school students for an entire month, but it was going to be 100 percent paid for.

I was beyond excited for the work, but even more thrilled about how good it would look on my college applications. Most of my friends didn’t care about that yet, but I was going to make sure I got into the college of my choice if it killed me.

“Hi, Emilie.” Mrs. Svoboda, the school secretary, smiled and gestured for me to go to the counseling office. “Go on back to Mr. Kessler’s office. He’s waiting for you.”

“Thanks.” I went back and lifted my hand to knock on the counselor’s half-closed office door when he bellowed, “Here she is now. Come in, Emilie.”

I walked into his office and saw the woman who’d interviewed me for the fellowship. She was sitting in a chair, holding a cup of coffee and giving me hard-core eye contact.

“Oh. Um, hi.” I hadn’t expected to see her, but I quickly recovered and went in for a firm handshake. “Nice to see you again.”

The woman—Mrs. Bowen—fumbled for my hand and looked shocked by the shake. “You too, though I wish we were meeting under better circumstances.”

Even with that warning, I didn’t expect somethingbadbad. I expected her to say I needed one more reference, or perhaps that it was imperative they get a headshot from me stat.

I perched on the edge of the chair in the corner. “Oh?”

“Unfortunately there was an error in the scoring of fellowship applications. It has come to our attention that some numbers were added incorrectly.”

My heartbeat picked up a little. “Which means…?”

“Which means that you actuallydidn’twin a fellowship.”

---