I didn’t care. I chose my future over her. I
should have done it a long time ago.
Leaving school that night, I heard the roar of a
motorcycle. Jake and Sarah pulled up, blocking
my path. A posse of brightly–dressed punks
trailed behind them.
<
“Problem?” I asked.
43
Jake glanced at me, pulling out a pack of cigarettes. One of his buddies instantly lit it for
him. He took a slow drag, his chin tilted up.
“You made my girlfriend mad, Four–Eyes. You got guts.”
Sarah, clinging to his waist, smirked.
“Apologize, Ethan. And tutor me every night this week. Then maybe my boyfriend will let you off the hook.” The audacity.
I sighed. “I don’t want trouble. But Sarah, I’ve been covering for you. If I told your parents
everything, do you think you’d be so carefree?”
Her smirk faltered.
“You know how much your parents adore you.
If they found out about… all this, the skipping
class, the smoking, Jake… would you even be
allowed out of the house?”
Jake scoffed. “So what? I’ll just pay your
parents a visit. They’ll be thrilled to have such
an awesome son–in–law.” The confidence.
Sarah threw her cigarette pack at me, her face
red with anger. “Like I actually need your stupid notes! Nerd! I’ll manage just fine, just you wait!
Let’s go, babe!”
Jake gave me a mock punch, then roared off
with his crew.
That night, Mrs. Miller called. “Ethan, thank you
for tutoring Sarah. Your grades are important,
especially with college applications coming up,
you need to focus on yourself.”
Sarah hadn’t said anything good about me,
clearly. Probably complained that I was too
busy studying for myself to help her. She’d
shifted the blame, even though she was the one
who’d given up. But it didn’t matter. Whatever
happened now, her parents couldn’t blame me. I
<
was finally free.
Midterms came and went. The school gave us half a day off. I slept in, had dinner, then headed back for evening study hall. As I walked into the classroom, I heard someone say, “Did you hear? Sarah and Jake got caught cheating! The school’s calling their parents!”
So that was Sarah’s “plan.”
“Guess what? Sarah begged the principal not to
tell her parents! Jake thought she was pathetic and just stormed out!”
“No way! What happened then?”
“The principal actually let it go!”
“Seriously? How?”
“Dude, she’s gorgeous, great body, crying her
eyes out… who could resist? Even principals are
human, you know?”
<
I couldn’t take it anymore. “Have some respect.”
The guy scoffed. “She doesn’t even like you. Why are you defending her? You’ve been so far up in the friend zone for so long, you actually think you’re some kind of romantic hero?” His jab drew laughter.
“I’m not defending anyone, just stating facts. Sure, times have changed, but you can’t just say whatever you want about people.” He was a notorious attention–seeker. My comment hit a nerve. “Ethan! You want a piece of me?”
“Violence isn’t the answer. Resorting to fists when you lose an argument…pretty low.” After years in the corporate world, no high schooler could match my sarcasm.
Suddenly, the class president yelled, “Scores are up!” Everyone rushed towards her, a chaotic scrum. “Back up, everyone! Let me post the list, then you can see for yourselves.”
I wanted to see, but couldn’t get through. I
decided to memorize some vocab, check later.
The class president walked over, handing me a
slip of paper. My scores. “I wrote them down
for you. No biggie. Ethan, nice job! Ninth in the
grade!”
Ninth! My best last time was eleventh. Focusing
solely on my goals was paying off. I stretched,
then got back to work.
The semester flew by. Time was a blur.
“Ninth in the grade! Good job, son!” Dad
beamed, looking at my report card. “Keep this
up, you’re guaranteed a spot at a top university.”
“I’ll keep working hard,” I said. My goal was Harvard, I still had a ways to go.
Mom sighed. “It’s such a shame about Sarah
>
Miller. She’s been diagnosed with depression,
completely lost interest in school, her grades
are terrible. Her parents are debating whether
to let her take a year off, try again next year.”
Depression? Convenient excuse. “If she waits
till next year, her dance audition scores won’t
be valid.” Sarah had dedicated her life to
dance. Countless hours, bruises, tears shed in
the studio. Julliard was her dream. That
sweltering summer when we were sixteen, we’d
promised we’d both go to New York, explore
the city, see the world. That would never
