The janitor stopped mid-cut and took her in with disapproving eyes. “Help you?”
Brynna scratched her cheek. “What—what are you doing?”
The janitor made the cut, and Brynna watched a chain slide out from the door handles and land in a snakelike coil in the dirt. “Isn’t it obvious? Some idiot chained the poolroom doors together.”
Bat’s wings punctured Brynna’s stomach. “When?”
“Last night. Did almost all the doors. I don’t know what’s wrong with you guys.”
Brynna was too shocked to be indignant, to point out that the entire school didn’t chain the doors together. She licked her bottom lip and tried to steel herself, gripping the edges of her books so tightly her knuckles went white.
“Which doors, exactly?”
The janitor stopped then and looked Brynna full in the face, his eyebrows turned down in two black slashes. “Every one but the one interior door in the senior hall. Locker room doors, outside door.” He leaned over and snatched the broken chain off the ground, giving off a huge cloud of dust. “Do me a favor, huh? Tell your friends these little pranks are really a pain in my ass.” He stalked off, and Brynna stepped back, stunned.
If only she could believe that last night was just a “little prank.”
She started down the hallway, glancing down at her vibrating phone. It was another text from Teddy, and a wave of guilt shot over Brynna as she slid the phone to the off position. Brynna had been avoiding Teddy’s texts and calls since last night. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to talk to him; it was that she had no idea what to say. She had mumbled on and on about a dead girl trying to drown her when there was no one else in the pool. Teddy was sweet and had tried to be understanding, but how long would he go on understanding Brynna if she kept acting so crazy?
“There you are.”
Brynna turned and sucked in a breath, face to face and nearly a hairsbreadth away from Teddy. His eyes were an intense blue and his hands were on her shoulders—firm but careful. Brynna’s heart started to thud.
“Uh, hey, Teddy.” She managed a small smile.
His hands dropped to his sides, and her shoulders were cold where his hands had been.
“So you have been avoiding me.”
“No, no.” She pressed her palm flat against his chest, feeling the beat of his heart in her hand. She wanted to throw her arms around him and live by that steady, constant rhythm. “I mean…yes. I kind of thought it would be best.”
“For who?”
Brynna was taken aback by the slight edge in his voice. “Well, for you. I mean, I—clearly—am nuts or something—”
“Or something.” A smile kicked up the edges of his lips.
“I’m sorry, I just didn’t think you’d want to be labeled as the guy with the crazy girlfriend.”
The second she said the word “girlfriend,” heat flashed over Brynna’s cheeks and all the way up to her hair.
“So you’re my girlfriend now?”
Her heart was lodged securely in her throat, and Brynna thought that if she was going to die anyway, now would be the perfect time.
“I—I didn’t mean—I just meant girl, who’s a friend…”
Teddy held up a hand stop-sign style. “Nope. Stop there. I like girlfriend.”
Now Brynna’s heart sped up for a different reason, and she felt the grin spread across her face, pushing up her earlobes.
“I like you,” Teddy said.
“I like you too.”
He slung an arm around her. “So we’re in agreement.”
“Yeah, but about last night—”
Teddy pressed his index finger to his pursed lips. “Shh. Your less-than-stellar swimming abilities can be our little secret.”
Brynna fell into step with Teddy. Their hands hung by their sides but close enough so that their fingers brushed. The feeling of Teddy so close trumped all the negative feelings Brynna was having, and she reveled in the few minutes of between-class happiness.
Teddy yanked open the door for her. “After you.”
She smiled, warmth climbing up the back of her neck. When Brynna stepped into the room, her eyes cut across the chalkboard. She found her seat, pulling her Mr. Fallbrook-mandated “journal” out of her bag.
Fallbrook’s AP English class was required to “loosen up” with a daily writing prompt. He would write a statement or a topic on the board, and before anything happened—before papers got turned in or excuses were given for papers not being turned in—students had to write at least a full two pages in their black-speckled comp books on the topic. He checked them once a week and actually read what they wrote, so giant handwriting or a series of “I feel very, very, very, very strongly about this topic” wouldn’t fly.
Brynna actually liked the routine, and the prompts gave her a way to throw all her thoughts and energy into something other than what was going on in her head. Today, however, was an exception.
In Fallbrook’s blocky writing was the daily writing prompt: Write about a time you were really scared.