Page 128 of Pride High

Anthony hurried down the school hallway, which had begun emptying out ever since the bell rang. Due to construction, there had been a traffic jam on the way to Pride High, making him and his brother late. Anthony reached the end of the hall and turned the corner. He saw Omar waiting outside the journalism classroom. And he wasn’t alone.

“Ah, there he is!” Mr. Finnegan said, sounding cheerful.

“What’s going on?” Anthony asked, already feeling apprehensive.

“Mr. Finnegan wants us to do a video yearbook!” Omar blurted out while beaming with excitement.

“Not exactly,” Mr. Finnegan replied. “I was just telling Omar how I believe a video yearbook would be a popular addition. We manage to document the school year as best we can with text and photos, but think how nice it would be to hear your fellow students talking and see them engaging in their extracurricular activities.”

“We’re bound to win an Oscar,” Anthony joked.

“Hey, with me filming, you never know,” Omar retorted.

“Oh!” Anthony finally got the complete picture. “Yeah, that would be cool!”

“It’s all very tentative at the moment,” Mr. Finnegan explained. “I’ve managed to convince Principal Preckwinkle to let us put together a demo reel to show what the final product might be like.”

“That’s awesome,” Anthony said, nodding toward Omar. “You’ve got the right guy for the job.”

“Can he help?” Omar asked. “We’ll need music. Watching the football team give themselves brain damage will be so much cooler with some metal playing in the background.”

“Perhaps,” Mr. Finnegan said. “For the time being, I would prefer that Anthony focus on his writing. But on a related note, I’d like to add a recurring feature to the school newspaper. You seem in touch with modern music trends, Anthony. How would you like to write a few reviews each month?”

“He says yes,” Omar answered for him. “Anthony knows everything about music. And he has a million opinions about it, believe me.”

Mr. Finnegan looked at him questioningly.

“What can I say?” Anthony replied. “He knows me too well.”

“Excellent!” Mr. Finnegan seemed genuinely pleased by this news. “I still need you to pay attention to each day’s lesson, although you will be skipping some assignments to work on the new project.”

“This is going to be so rad!” Omar said, bumping elbows with Anthony.

“Am I also supposed to…” Mr. Finnegan said, raising an arm and struggling to figure out how to position it.

“No,” Omar said. “Sorry.”

“It’s sort of our thing,” Anthony explained.

“Ah. Just as well. We shouldn’t keep the class waiting.”

“Although,” Anthony said leadingly, “we would make an exception and bump elbows with you,ifyou finally let us sit together. Especially since we’ll be working on different projects than everyone else.”

“Very well,” Mr. Finnegan said. “Just don’t make me regret my decision.”

“Cool!” Omar said. “All right, let’s do this. An ultra-rare triple elbow bump.”

Mr. Finnegan awkwardly offered his elbow again. They did the rest.

Anthony was grinning as he walked into the classroom. Mindy smiled at him. Hopefully she wouldn’t mind the new seating arrangement. “Is that okay?” he asked after explaining everything.

“Sure!” she said. “I don’t mind sitting with Ricky. He’s sweet.”

Anthony glanced in that direction. Omar was standing in front of Ricky while talking. After a moment, Ricky looked over at Anthony and glowered. He could guess why. Anthony hadn’t forgotten the way Ricky had taken his hand in the haunted house and given it a meaningful squeeze. The only question was who he’d actually intended to flirt with. It had to be either Omar or Cameron. Neither possibility made him very happy.

Mr. Finnegan cleared his throat. Omar helped Ricky movehis things while Anthony got settled. In less than a minute, the exchange was complete. It had only taken two months, but they were finally sitting next to each other. Omar shot him a cocky grin and jerked his head in an upward nod. Anthony smiled back. Then he turned his attention to the front of the class, determined to show Mr. Finnegan that this wasn’t a mistake.

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