Page 54 of I Hope This Doesn't Find
“But only because I’m so busy doing the advanced questions.” Julius’s grin is so wide it looks like it hurts. There’s a visible muscle twitching in his jaw. “And because I don’t find memorizing the syllabus to be an effective study method, although I concede that it may be beneficial for those with a rudimentary understanding of the content—”
“Which is exactly the kind of thinking that could leadsomepeople,” I say in a bright voice, squeezing my fingers together under the desk, “to lose three marks on an important test and then complain that the topic wasn’t covered, when it was actually stated in black and white.”
Principal Miller’s brows furrow.
“All of this is to say that Julius islovely,” I say quickly.
“And Sadie is the light of my life,” Julius says, his lip curling, even though there’s an odd note to his tone. Something that could be confused for sincerity. “The sun in my sky, the source of all my joy. She’s the reason I wake up every morning excited to go to my classes. Not a day goes by where I’m not grateful that she exists, that she’s there, that I get to talk to her and pass her in the halls and listen to her laugh.”
I’m concerned he’s gone a bit too far with the irony, but Principal Miller looks convinced. No, he even looksmoved.
“That was beautiful,” the principal says, and I have to remember not to roll my eyes. “Truly. I have to admit, I was somewhat skeptical about how well this would work out between you two given the rather intense nature of those emails, but . . . well, I always knew I was a miracle worker. I guess I reallydocome up with the best solutions.”
My mouth falls open of its own accord. I can’t believe this is the conclusion he’s come to.
“I just have one last task for you,” Principal Miller says. “The senior trip is coming up soon, and after the less-than-positive feedback we received for last year’s trip—”
“You mean when the teachers took the class to a sewage treatment plant?” I clarify.
“Yes.” He rubs the back of his head. “Yes. To be clear, that was a case of false advertising and miscommunication, but that is indeed what I’m referring to.”
“Got it.”
“That’s why for this year,” he says, “we want more input from the students. I’m going to trust you two to provide a few sensible, budget-friendly suggestions for where you could stay. It would be great if you could get this organized as soon as possible and hand me a proposal tomorrow morning.”
“Wait.” I exchange a quick look of disbelief with Julius, and for once, the battle lines seem to be drawn before us, instead of between us.“Tomorrow—”
“That is correct.” The principal makes a hand gesture that’s probably intended to be encouraging, but looks more like he’s threatening to punch us. Ifeellike I’ve been punched. “Best of luck, captains.”
•••
“You’re late,” I inform Julius the second he walks in.
I’ve booked one of the study rooms in the library for us to use throughout our spare period. The pros: There’s an arched, stained glass window offering a stunning view of the rippling lawns below, and the walls are perfectly soundproof. There’s also a whiteboard for me to stick up photos and details of all the destinations I’ve gathered.
The cons: It’s clearly designed to hold only a single person, which means he has to squeeze his way past the chair to reach the square of empty space available beside me. Which means we’re standing much closer together than I’d like. Which means I have to take a deep, steadying breath, forcing myself to focus on the board, to keep my eyes off his face.
“I remember when you used to at least pretend to be civil,” Julius remarks as he lifts the coffee cup in his hand to his lips. “You would offer me a terribly fake smile first, then come up with a long-winded way to remind me of the time, like:Is it just me, or has the school bought new clocks?The minute hand looks really different.Now you seem to have no problem criticizing me to my face. Real progress.”
I carry on as if he hasn’t spoken. “You’re late because you went to getcoffee?”
“See.” He points at me, as if I’ve just offered valuable evidence for his thesis statement. “So much more straightforward.” He takes another slow sip. “And yes, congratulations, your beverage-detection abilities are impressive. It is, in fact, black coffee.”
I wrinkle my nose. The bitter scent is so sharp I can practically taste it. “How do you even manage to drink that without sugar or cream?”
“I find it bracing.” The corner of his mouth quirks, his eyes black and razor-sharp on me. “And perhaps I prefer the challenge.”
“Sounds masochistic.”
“It does, doesn’t it?” he says. Then he turns to the board. Looks over it—my hard work, the resourcesI’dprepared ahead of time, the detailed sticky notes and calculations—for all of five seconds before he tells me, “The beach destination won’t work, by the way. We should eliminate that right off the bat.”
“Excuse me? Why not?” The beach retreat was the place I’d found most promising. It’s only a two-hour drive from here, and the scenery is beautiful: smooth sand and turquoise waves and hammocks strung between palm trees. I’d even started making a list of all the activities we could do, from beach volleyball to surfing to picking up trash, which isn’t as fun but is definitely good for the environment. The environment committee could write an article about it for the yearbook.
“Don’t get me wrong, it’s pretty,” he says with a shrug. “But that’s also the problem. It’s too romantic.”
I stare at him.
He sighs. Like I’m being dense on purpose. “Do you know what the teachers’ biggest fear with these kinds of retreats is?”
