17: Terms & Conditions

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Violet was insane

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Violet was insane. She'd lost her photographic marbles.

I had no other explanation. Date Brody? No, pretend to date Brody. How did she come up with the idea? It sounded so counterproductive, but I spent all afternoon thinking about it. And I sure as heck sent Violet a 'what are you thinking!?' look before History, with a mouthed threat, 'I'm calling you later.'

She bypassed an obvious, painful fact: I had no idea what a boy did when he liked a girl. Did they talk to their friends about her? Did they get excited to see a girl messaging them? Did they go out of their way to be where she is? Did they rehearse scenarios and conversations in their head?

Or was I just psychotic for doing these things? If not, how were we supposed to fake doing them?

Brody was no help, either. The same stubborn look in his eye during Home Ec waited for me on the track. I gulped at him wearing his practice uniform, except athletic shoes replaced his cleats.

"Are you sure your coach is okay with you doing this?" I asked as he started jogging next to me.

"Coach Patel said it was fine." His eyes shifted to the new coach, who set up a row of orange cones. "I think he's glad for one less guy around Nia before warm-ups."

Fair point. "Are you okay with it?"

Who Brody liked was his own business, but I couldn't help but be curious. Beyond every other girl's, 'I hope it's me,' rumors about his interests went from Nia to Xavier to Ms. Cox, the front office administrative assistant. Never me. Not once.

"About Nia?" Brody shrugged, but a slight pink flush filled his cheeks. "She's cute."

So, he did like her. A sense of disappointment sucked the air from me, despite his voice and the look on his face being totally blank-slate emotionless. As much as I wanted to prod him for an unspoken 'but' that I sensed, I pressed my lips together.

"But, so are puppies." True, but what did they have to do with anything? "All I care about is sports so I can get a scholarship."

We continued in silence for a few moments, two steps of mine for one of his. His words made perfect sense. He didn't want anyone, so he ignored the school's attention and initially shunned our friendship offer. He wanted to get in, get out, and move on. Didn't we all?

Unlike Brody, the rest of us had the luxury, or displeasure, depending on the perspective, of knowing each other's history. The unknown confounded Brody's appeal; he was a social mystery, and I saw no tangible benefits on his end to...pretend to date me. He had to know how incompatible we were.

"Brody? What Violet said, it—"

"Makes total sense," he interrupted with the last words I expected, making me gape at him and stumble my next two steps. His hand stabilized my elbow, but my brain was buzzing too much to remember to thank him.

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