Page 16 of Kicking It with the Point Guard

“Don’t get mustard or anything on this shirt. It’s one of my favorites.” She smirks. “Do you have time to explain why someone stole your clothes?”

“Even if I did have the time, I couldn’t tell you. The last twenty-four hours have been weird, and I can’t think of a single thing I’ve done to make anyone be so mad at me. I don’t even talk to anyone other than you, really.”

Lunch with Lindsay pops into my mind.

“Actually, wait. This girl named Lindsay—I think she’s a cheerleader—sat down with me at lunch the other day. She was asking about my library hottie.”

Mia hums thoughtfully as she looks for clothes of her own.

“I told her that I didn’t know anything about him, and that we had just met. She left after that and went back to a different table with a bunch of girls who looked like models. Probably more cheerleaders…” I trail off. Not really sure where I’m going with this.

But it’s the only weird thing that’s happened lately.

Mia is dressed now and running a comb through her long, wavy hair. It poofs up, and she gives a frustrated sigh, opting to put it up in a messy bun.

“You should know better than to get involved with cheerleaders. The leeches.”

“Yeah, yeah. It wasn’t really up to me. She wouldn’t leave me alone until I gave her something.” I pull a brush through my own hair, twisting the side back and braiding the bottom before repeating the action on the other side.

“We can dissect the past couple of days later,” she says, picking up her phone. “If you dally much longer, you’ll be late for math.”

I scowl but grab my backpack.

“I love you,” I grumble over my shoulder as I leave the room.

“Love you too.” She laughs.

Violet

Algebra passes by in a blur. Not that I was paying much attention.

Should I have been listening? Yes. Definitely.

But I’m so annoyed about the incident this morning. And thinking about last night and how I felt like I was being followed only exacerbates my anger. I’m a bubbling pot of rage by the time class ends.

I barely hear Professor Drivels call my name.

“Miss Miller, what is the point of attending class when you can’t even be bothered to pay attention? I’m under the impression that you need every second of class time to even be able to have a chance at passing my class.”

Oh… Wrong day to pick on me, sir. Wrong day.

“I was under the impression that even if the insane dribble that spews from your stinky mouth flowed directly into my brain, then it still wouldn’t matter, and I still wouldn’t pass your class.”

He sputters at my outburst. Usually, I’m timid around him, my hatred of math and my fear of not passing the class holding in the temper that I keep a tight lid on. But not today.

“Don’t worry, prof. I got a tutor. We’re starting today.” I whirl around, stomping out of the classroom and out of the building.

Asshole.

I’ve made it halfway across the courtyard when I realize what I just did, and I sigh. Crap. He’s going to make me pay for that later. I bet the only reason I’m not doing twelve pages of extra homework is because I caught him off guard.

Now I’m dreading going back to his class for more reasons than one.

Once I’m inside the library, I pause, taking some deep calming breaths. I need to chill out before I meet with my tutor. This guy is supposed to save me, and after the outburst I just had with Drivels, I’m going to need all the help I can get.

Sure that I’m finally calm enough to interact normally with another person, I make my way back to my favorite study room. I was glad Dr. Harrington asked me if I had a preference.

The light’s already on inside, meaning that my tutor beat me here. I flash back to the past couple of times I’ve been here. Library Hottie was always in here before me.

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