Sitting in on freshman English again was kind of strange—like a time warp. A lot of it was the same, except I was three years older, and I could now call exactly who died at the end of pretty much everything we read.
The freshmen in the class were a lot like the ones in gym—some of them may actually have been the same ones from gym—but they seemed a little more subdued. Maybe it was those bright red TS gym shirts that amped them up.
Foster wasn’t in the fourth-period English class, but that was fine, because I saw plenty of Foster already. However, in the weeks to come, I was finding that to be less and less the case. Football, of course, was taking up a lot of his time, but there was something else that I couldn’t ignore—something growing between him and Marabelle.
I’d see them having lunch together in the cafeteria, or talking in the halls between classes. Foster liked her—I could tell. Marabelle, on the other hand, was harder to read. She seemed to enjoy Foster’s company, but there was definitely a kind of reserve about her. At least from what I could tell as I spied on them in the hallways.
At the same time, Lindsay and Cas seemed to be hanging out more and more, and with enough enthusiasm on both sides to make me feel pretty dejected. With every giggle-infested flirt session that I was forced to witness, the prospect of the upcoming trip to Reeding became that much more appealing.
It would be my escape. Devon Tennyson’s Escape from Temple Sterling. Like a Disney World ride or something.
At least that’s how I had come to think of it until I saw the sign-up sheet on the College Info bulletin board.
The other lines for signatures had remained empty since Mrs. Wentworth put up the sheet. The trip was next week, and I was almost assured that it would just be me and her.
But there were more names today.
Maria Silva. Lauren McPhee. Perfectly acceptable.
But then, underneath those names:
Cas Kincaid.
Lindsay Renshaw.
Jordan Hunter.
Ezra Lynley.
What. The hell.
I cornered Cas between classes. “Why are you guys visiting Reeding? Their football team is a joke.”
“It’s a safety school. Any TS guy could get on that team easy.”
I just stared.
“Okay, fine. It’s on the beach.”
“It’s on the Atlantic, Cas. It’s too cold to swim!”
Cas put his hands on my shoulders. “It’s like a free vacation, Dev! We thought it would be fun.”
“But you hate Ezra.”
“I don’t hate him. And it’s not like I told him to sign up. He was just hanging around us all when Linds and Jordan and I decided to go.”
“Linds?”
“Yeah. Lindsay. You know.”
Oh I knew. A cute nickname was the first mile marker on Gag Highway, heading straight to Relationshipville. And making up the names of fake roads and cities to express your unhappiness was probably the first step to insanity.
I wanted to cry. Reeding was supposed to be my trip to my school. But it seemed I had little say in the matter.
While seemingly everyone around me was creeping toward Relationshipville, and I was wishing myself to Reeding, something was brewing up at home. Not conflict—in fact, the opposite of conflict. My parents were so proud of Foster and his football achievements that they wanted to throw a party for him and all his new friends.
I was wary of this idea from the get-go. For one thing, it was awfully hard to throw a party that would attract TS high football players and their associates without having alcohol, and Foster was hell-bent on inviting his friends from the football team as well as a few guys he managed to bond with during his incredibly brief stint on the C team. He also wanted the Future Science Revolutionaries of America to come, and, of course, Marabelle had to be there.
“Oh, only half will come,” my mom said when we went shopping for supplies. “That’s how these things always work out.”
“What about the girls?” I said, as Mom priced paper plates. “Me and Marabelle will be the only girls!”