Page 2 of Finding Her
She was cut off as the door from the hallway slammed open and a boy was shoved inside. And I do meanshoved. He stumbled forward, his brown hair flopping over his forehead as he regained his balance and looked up at all of us.
A gasp rippled through the room as we all took in the boy. I’d only been at Hartwell for a year, but I recognized him instantly as one of Hartwell’s star hockey players. And, I knew for a fact, in his senior year. So what was he doing here in the freshman gym class?
A man who looked like one of the male gym teachers followed him in. The boy turned to him, and from where I was standing, I could just barely see the wide, pleading eyes he was shooting the man. The smirk on the man’s face made it clear he couldn’t care less how the boy felt about being thrown into the lion’s den—because that was what any room full of teenage girls was.
“Ah, perfect timing,” Mrs. Dixon said. She gestured toward the boy. “Everyone, let’s all welcome our new student.”
CHAPTER 3
bear
I’ve never beenwhat you would call a model student, but I never thought the class I would fail would begym.
And I definitely never thought the school would care enough to make me re-take it.
“Why can’t hockey count as my gym credit?” I asked Coach again. Well,askedmight have been the wrong word.Beggedwas more like it. “Why do I need to take gym class too?”
“School requirement,” Coach said gruffly.
He put his hand on my back and continued to shove me down the hallway, even as I tried to dig my heels in at the same time.
“Have you seen my schedule?” I asked Coach, as if I hadn’t shown it to him three times. I dug the paper out of my pocket anyway and pointed at gym class sitting right there with the words FRESHMAN GIRLS.
“Uh-huh,” Coach said, not even glancing at it.
“You knew,” I said accusatorially. “You knew that I was getting put in this class and you didn’t care.”
“Uh-huh.” Of course, he wasn’t even bothering to deny it. Shouldn’t he have my best interest at heart? He wasn’t really showing it right now.
We reached the door of the gym and he let go of me just long enough to push it open, then shoved me inside. I barely caught myself as I stumbled, one shoe catching on the other. I really didn’t want to look up right now because I knew what was going to be facing me. And somehow, when I finally did raise my eyes, it was worse than I expected.
Thirty girls with their eyes locked right on me.
Being a hockey player meant that I was used to a certain amount of attention from the girls at school, but it also meant I was rarely alone when I got it. I stuck close to my friends and when girls closed in, I happily sacrificed my friends to their clutches.
Well, I viewed it as sacrificing them. They viewed it as me stepping back so they could get all the attention they desperately craved.
I turned to Coach again. “I really, really don’t want to do this.”
“More than you don’t want to run laps until you puke?” He asked, eyebrows raised.
Honestly? I wasn’t sure.
“Everyone, let’s welcome our new student!” Mrs. Dixon said behind me. I cringed and squeezed my eyes shut, hoping that maybe when I opened them again, I’d be back in my room and realizing this was all just some terrible nightmare. But when I opened them again, I was still standing in the gym and Coach was smirking at me. The traitor.
“Run along now,” he said, making a shoo-ing motion with his hand. He was enjoying this way too much.
“Coach—”
“Don’t want to hear it, Barrett,” he said, his voice gruff again. “Go.”
Okay, I knew when I was beat. For now, at least. I wasn’t planning on sticking around in this class for more than a coupledays, but I could give in for today. One class wouldn’t kill me. And when I got back to the dorms tonight, I’d look up the full school rules and find the loophole I needed to get out of this. There had to besomethingabout being on a team counting toward gym credits. I just had to find it.
I turned to the girls again, who looked like they were about to eat me alive. A couple of them are making what is probably meant to look like sultry eyes in my direction. A girl on the far left is pulling her shirt down to show off her cleavage. And one in the front was unabashedly rolling up the hem of her shorts.
I wouldn’t have been interested even if this was a room of girls my own age, but I was just grossed out to see a bunch of fourteen-year-olds trying to make me interested in them.
I was ready to tell Coach that this was clearly a terrible idea, but before I could even open my mouth, I heard the door slam back open. As he walked out, I heard him mutter in disgust, “Failing gym class.”
