A shy high school senior jock and a closed-off girl battling an immune disorder fake a relationship to win a social media contest.
Being shy isn't easy, especially when you're the new kid at school. Scotts Valley's football program is subpar compare...
اوووه! هذه الصورة لا تتبع إرشادات المحتوى الخاصة بنا. لمتابعة النشر، يرجى إزالتها أو تحميل صورة أخرى.
"I'm arguing with Fitz." Xavi sighed, pulling out his lunch. "He doesn't think Tartuffe is a good suggestion for the fall performance."
I plopped down next to him. "That's ironic."
"I know, right?" His sarcasm mode was unlocked. "Why did I think the school's drama teacher would highlight censorship and promote free speech?"
I giggled at the melodrama in his voice and flailing arm movements. Xavi's soap box, once he got started, exceeded the cafeteria area. "Guess not. What about your gravy comedy?"
"That's The Plot, like Gravy, Thickens," he said in a matter-of-fact tone. "No, he's too busy dreaming of shiny, feel-good musicals. Barf."
Before I barf-agreed, footsteps approached from behind.
"I've got one friend replacement nomination." Violet introduced a short, black-haired girl in a bright purple sweater and ripped jeans standing near our table. She stared at the giant thermos in her hands, so Vi patted her shoulder and gave us a 'be nice' smile. "Okay?"
"Yeah." I kicked out the chair across from Xavi. "Nia, right?"
"Yeah." She sat with an uneasy smile, tucking a long black strand behind her ear. "Thanks."
"I warned her in homeroom that she couldn't pick an un-cooler table, but–"
"But I'll make that judgment myself." Her smile at Vi made my friend blush, standing out on her pale skin.
Hmm. I shared a glance with Xavi. Violet was bi, converted to lesbian whenever Pierce was in her vicinity, but I hadn't seen her express interest in anyone. My shoulders dipped under Nia's bold words, so similar to when–
"Uhh, hey?" a male voice rasped, followed by a cleared throat and a stuttered cough. All four of our heads lifted to a red-faced Brody, whose eyes stayed on his tray. "Can I, uhh, sit here?"
"You sure this time?" Violet scowled, turning her back on Brody and mouthing 'No' to me and Xavi.
"Vi," I whispered, gesturing for her to come closer. "That's not nice."
"Befriending and ghosting us wasn't nice either," she projected loudly.
Red spots flushed up the sides of Brody's neck. "I deserve that." His lips moved around the words, but I didn't hear them. "I'm sorry, Vi."
"I don't think it's a big deal." Xavi frowned and offered a palm-up hand at the four open chairs at our table. "It's just lunch. Brody has more to lose by being seen with us."
How pathetic were we, accepting having a lower social station? I couldn't wait to get out of here.
"Tell that to the snob brigade." Vi thumbed over her shoulder. "Did, or didn't, Trayvon stuff you in your locker, laughing that you don't fit?"
"He..." Poor Xavi's eyes dropped. "Did. Good point. Brody–"
"I wouldn't do that." His tray wobbled in his tight grip. A frown creased his forehead, and he made eye contact with each of us, passing his promise through an intense gaze. "And I'll tell them to knock it off. Every one of them, if needed."
