by Emily Lowry
“You don’t need a class, dude, you need a teacher.”
“Meredith won’t teach me.”
Tyler opened the door to class. “Good thing I’m not talking about Meredith.”
13
Zoe
By lunch time, I was exhausted. It felt like I’d left my brain off all summer, and now, like a dusty computer with whirring fans and flashing lights, it was desperately trying to turn on and stay awake. My morning started with biology, then dance. I liked to schedule dance right before lunch, because our dance teacher would let us go ten minutes early so we could shower.
Nina, Kenzie, and Callie were waiting for me in the cafeteria.
I waved to them, loaded up a tray with a pizza bagel and a blue slushie, and sat down. Nina was wearing one of her trademark band shirts. I hadn’t seen this one before. It featured a delivery truck backing a piano into a moving space. An old man stood on the sidewalk, shouting for the truck to “Keep Baching Up.”
“Funny.” I nodded at her shirt and took a bite of my bagel. The molten hot cheese scorched my tongue.
“Your morning?” Kenzie asked, looking up from her textbook.
I pretended to fall asleep.
“You and me both, sister,” Callie said. “Want to skip out and catch some waves?”
Kenzie glared. “You shouldn’t skip class. And you definitely shouldn’t skip on the first day. It sets a bad precedent.”
Callie shrugged. “I like to keep the bar low. That way I get bonus points just for showing up.”
Kenzie made a disgusted noise and Callie grinned. Somehow, they were simultaneously best friends and worst enemies. Kenzie was on track for Harvard and involved in extracurricular clubs I didn’t even know existed. Callie spent ninety percent of her waking time in the water, and it was not unusual for her to show up three hours late to events, her clothes damp and sand in her hair.
All too soon, the bell rang. I hoped that the pizza bagel and slushie would give me enough energy to get through the rest of my day, but as I dragged myself to Life Skills, I could already feel the tendrils of a sugar coma about to drag me to the depths of sleep.
But, when I arrived at Life Skills, who should I see sitting in the back corner of the class, playing on his phone? Mason. His t-shirt was the perfect size, highlighting his broad shoulders, and just tight enough so it hugged his biceps. The surrounding seats were empty, but a pair of junior girls sat on the other side of the classroom and stared at him. If I looked in their eyes, I suspected their pupils would be shaped like little hearts.
I ignored the urge to give them a roll of paper towel to wipe the drool off their desks and instead went and sat beside Mason. For once, he was just the person I wanted to see.
“Fancy seeing you here.”
Mason smiled and pocketed his phone. “Hey, Zoo. Nice to see someone I actually know.”
“You know everybody.” I pointed out.
“Other way around,” Mason said. “Everyone knows me. Me? I know nobody.”
Typical freaking Mason.
“Okay, Mr. Popular.” I made a face at him.
He laughed. “It’s not all it’s cracked up to be. Believe me.”
I doubted that. Life would be so easy if people bent over backwards to serve me everywhere I went. Imagine walking into a classroom, twenty minutes late, and having the teachers thank you for showing up? That was Mason’s life. Or, more accurately, the life of any star quarterback in a school that cared about football. “Why are you doing Life Skills in your senior year?”
“Kept pushing it off,” Mason said. “Didn’t have time.”
“Too busy dating every girl in your class?” I flinched as the words came out of my mouth. My plan, such as it was, was to circle our conversation to dating, then segue into asking him to teach me what he knows. In my head, the conversation was a lot less clumsy. But that was basically my life — smooth in my head, embarrassingly awkward in real life. I looked away from Mason, trying to play it cool.
“Didn’t think you were that interested in my dating life, Zoo.”
I didn’t have a response.
Fortunately, I didn’t need one. Our Life Skills teacher, Mrs. Cortez, waltzed in. She wore a white blouse and black slacks, and skipped straight over new semester greetings of any sort. “Life Skills. Most students treat this as a blow-off class. Something they have to pass so they can get their diploma. But, realistically, this is the most important class many of you will take. Ever.”
That seemed unlikely.
“You will work in pairs on a semester-long life development project. During that project, you and your partner will each build a fake life. You will find jobs, living accommodations. You will get married — or not — you will budget for vacations, and you will deal with whatever disasters I throw your way. Because if there is one thing you should know about your life, it’s that it will never go exactly how you plan it.”
“Depressing,” I muttered.
Mason smirked. “Where’s your sense of adventure?”
“Forgot it at home.”
He snorted.
Mrs. Cortez circled the classroom and handed out our first assignment. It was a single sheet of paper with multiple choice options that showed what our lives could look like. We could get married and have kids, get married and not have kids, or stay single. There was also a long list of career options, everything from the practicality of an accountant, to the fantasy of a traveling concert musician. There was also a list of different cities we could live in.
Mason nudged me. “Want to partner up?”
“Sure.” I scanned the assignment. How realistic were we supposed to be filling in our answers? “Since I have had zero luck in the dating department, I should probably just select single and lives with her cat.”
Mason snickered. “I’m thinking of being a rodeo clown.”
“Well, you know how to be a clown, so the rodeo probably isn’t much of a stretch.” I grinned.
“Do you think they make the big bucks?”
“Not as much as a neurosurgeon.”
“You’re going to be a neurosurgeon?”
“Only if it means I can operate myself and fix the part of my brain that’s supposed to understand boys,” I said.
Mason skimmed his paper. “What don’t you know about boys?”
“It’s not just boys,” I said. “It’s dating. And it’s everything. Like whenever there’s anything dating related, or I even try to talk to a boy I like, it’s a disaster. It’s like there’s all these rules that everyone else is following, but no one told me what they are.”
Mason looked at me suspiciously, but said nothing.
I felt nervous, but I didn’t know why. I’d known Mason my entire life. And, while he loved to tease me and prank me, he wasn’t the type to make fun of me about something that actually mattered — like not knowing how to get a date.
But I also couldn’t tell if he was picking up on the hints I was laying down. Maybe you had to be blunt with boys. “You’re pretty good at dating.”
Mason grinned. “Some would say I’m the best.”
I rolled my eyes. “Only because you’re hot.”
“Excellent use of flattery,” Mason said.
“Thanks,” I replied. “Flattery’s what us average people use so we can compete.”
“Oh please, Zoo. As if you’re average.”
I went cold and narrowed my eyes. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. “What?”
“You’re way better than average.”
Heat rose to my cheeks, and I had to look away quickly. Mason was just being nice. Just being a good friend. He didn’t mean anything by it — so I shouldn’t read into it. At all. “Well, being not-average hasn’t helped me get any dates. So clearly there’s something wrong.”
“It’s like you said — you don’t know the rules.”
So there WERE rules.
Mason stretched and put his hands behind his head. “Lucky for you, you’re sitting
next to someone who knows the rules. And this is Life Skills — and dating is definitely a life skill you’ll want to know.”
Well, this was going better than expected. Time to put my cards on the table. “Will you teach me?”
Mason leaned close, keeping his voice low. “I’ll help you out. But if I help you, you need to help me.”
“What could I possibly help you with?”
Mason checked around to make sure no one was looking. “Dance.”
“You want me to—”
Mason clamped his hand over my mouth. “Quiet, Zoo. Man.”
I had the urge to lick his hand, just to gross him out a little. But that probably would’ve jeopardized any chance of getting him to teach me how to date. Even longtime friends could only stand so much grossness.
He removed his hand. “I asked Meredith to Homecoming.”
Meredith Byrd. Tall. Blonde. Beautiful. And easily the best dancer on the dance team. I was in awe of her skill, her poise.
“Bold,” I said. “I heard she was dating a guy from USC.”
Mason’s mouth twitched. “She’s not. But she’ll only go to Homecoming with someone who knows how to dance.”
That made sense. Every Homecoming, Beachbreak High had a giant dance competition for any couple that wanted to participate. A couple from the dance team almost always won. And since Meredith was the captain, she probably saw it as her right to win. But she needed the right partner. “So,” I said, crossing my arms, “the mighty Space Face comes to me for help.”
“You came to me first,” Mason pointed out. “But yes, I need your help too. You’re the best dancer I know.”
“You mean the best dancer you know that will put up with you.”
“That’s right.” Mason grinned. “So, what do you say? Do we have a deal?”
It took me a microsecond to shake his hand. “Let’s do it.”
14
Zoe
My day was almost, almost over. In fact, I only had one class left: Physics, with the notoriously grumpy Mr. Hinshaw.
He paced across the classroom, his gnarled hands twisted behind his back. The buttons on his collared shirt strained against the bulge of his belly. “We will begin this year, as we do every year, with a quiz.”
Normally, a pop quiz would make my stomach sink and make my palms sweaty. But by the end of my first day back, I was too tired to care. I took the quiz, scribbling my answers, trying to remember any formula at all. When I was finished, I brought my paper to the front of the class and stood beside Mr. Hinshaw’s desk while he marked it.
Blue checkmark.
Red X.
Red X.
Red X.
Red X.
Blue checkmark.
Red X.
By the time he was finished scrawling X’s on my paper, his pen was running out of ink. Scowling, he handed my paper back, then took Nina’s, uncapped a second pen, and repeated the process. When everyone had handed in their tests, Mr. Hinshaw had gone through three red pens.
His wrinkled jowls quivered. “This quiz covered everything you will learn in my Physics class. None of you passed. If you follow my logic, this means that there is not a single student in this class who already knows the subject matter we will discuss. As such, it behooves you to be quiet when I speak.”
“I think it behooves me to switch out of this class,” Nina whispered.
I nodded, examining all the red X’s on my quiz. This was going to be a long semester of Physics. A very, very long semester. And the worst part? It was the hardest class on my schedule, and it was at the end of the day, when I was tired and wanted to go home. “Bad move,” I said. “Putting our hardest class in fourth period.”
My normally positive, upbeat friend was slumped in her seat, staring vacantly at the chalkboard. “If we work together, we can get through this. I have to believe that.”
“It’s our only option,” I agreed. “And speaking of working together, I found someone who will teach me how to date.”
Nina raised an eyebrow. “Is Kenzie finally ready to talk?”
“Not her,” I said. Kenzie was the only girl in our friend group who’d been in a real relationship. It ended in disaster, and she never, ever talked about it. No matter how much prying we did. “Mason wants to help.”
Nina’s jaw dropped. “Mason?”
I nodded excitedly.
She pressed her lips together, frowning. “Hmm.”
“What?”
Nina shifted in her chair. She waited until Mr. Hinshaw was pacing towards the other end of the classroom, then continued. “Are you sure he’s the best person to go to for advice?”
My excitement faded slightly. Twenty minutes ago, I’d been so sure of my plan. But now, Nina was trying to poke holes in it — which usually meant she noticed something I didn’t. Something that would be a problem. “Why not Mason? If anyone knows the rules of dating, it’s him.”
“Come on, Zoe,” Nina said. “Rules don’t apply to guys like Mason. He’s the starting quarterback. He’s gorgeous. Half the school is already in love with him. He could walk up to any single girl in school, burp, then ask them out, and they’d still say yes.”
“First — gross,” I said. “And second, just because the rules don’t apply to Mason doesn’t mean he doesn’t know what the rules are. He’s been on so many dates, he’s probably lost count. He has experience — and experience is what I lack. Besides, it’s not like there’s a better option. Kenzie won’t talk, and Ty’s not exactly unbiased.”
“Fine. Maybe there’s not a better option. But...” Nina cut herself off.
It wasn’t like her to hold back. “Out with it.”
“I don’t get why he’s helping you.”
“Out of the goodness of his heart.”
Nina rolled her eyes. “Sure, but why’s he actually helping you.”
I lowered my voice further. “You can’t tell anyone.”
“Promise.”
“We made a deal,” I said. “He teaches me to date, and...”
“And?”
I sighed. “And I teach him how to dance.”
“Dance? Why would he want to dance?”
“Because he wants to take Meredith Byrd to Homecoming. And she will only—”
“Go with a guy who dances, yeah.” Nina looked puzzled.
Why wouldn’t she get on board with my plan? It would benefit our entire group. Sure, Mason would teach me directly, but anything I learned, I could pass onto her. “What now?”
“Nothing.”
“You have a look.”
“It’s not any of my business.”
“When has that stopped you before?”
Nina glared, then nodded. “Fine. For this to work, you’re going to have to spend a lot of time close to each other. Like a lot of time. It’s not like dancing, or dating, are easy to learn.”
“So?”
She shifted in her seat.
I’d never seen her look so uncomfortable.
She took a deep breath. “Aren’t you worried that spending that much time with a really hot guy can lead to... you know... feelings?”
What?
Feelings?
I blinked, then wild laughter burst from my chest.
Mr. Hinshaw sneered. “Physics is serious business, Miss Walsh. And I would advise you not to interrupt me again. And perhaps pay attention.”
“Sorry, Mr. Hinshaw.” I stopped laughing. Mostly. My shoulders were still shaking slightly, but I thought I was hiding it well enough. When I was sure our grumpy teacher wasn’t looking, I turned to Nina. “You cannot be serious.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s Mason,” I said. “I’ve spent infinite amounts of time with him.”
“Alone?”
“Well, no, but… it’s Mason,” I repeated. How could I make this clearer? “He’s the boy who used to yank on my pigtails. Who would steal my — our — ice cream. He is definitely not interested in me like that. Trust me
. He dates girls like Meredith. Tall, beautiful, confident. I’m short, average, and awkward. I am not on his radar as remotely dateable. He’s best friends with my brother. Plus, I’m not interested in him. I’m only getting him to teach me so I can maybe actually say five non-embarrassing words to You Know Who.”
Nina sighed. “If you say so.”
I fought the urge to laugh again. Me and Mason? That was the most ridiculous thing I’d heard in my life.
15
Mason
My cleats dug into the turf as I took a three-step drop. I pump faked, waited for Tyler to make an outside cut at the pylon, then whipped the ball in his direction. He extended his hands, caught the ball, and instinctively tucked it under his arm.
He jogged back to the start position.
“Nice catch,” I said. “Orc, jump in and get your reps.”
Oliver “Orc” Peters was the backup quarterback. He was my height, had a jaw like a brick, and a nose that popped out like cauliflower. He jogged past me, grabbed a ball, and started throwing.
It was a hot afternoon, perfect for a swim. Maybe if Coach cut practice early enough, the boys and I could head down to the beach. Ironically, we’d do the same thing we did at practice — bring a ball, stand in the ocean, and throw it back and forth. We wouldn’t scrimmage, not this close to the first game of the season. Coach would kill us if someone got injured.
I grabbed a water bottle and tossed a second to Tyler. I sprayed my face, then took a drink. “Gotta thank you, man,” I said. “Zoo says she’s up for being my dance teacher.”
“Don’t mention it, dude. Just don’t break her feet by stepping all over her.” Tyler took a swig. Even with his hair matted from wearing his helmet, he still looked like a tanned beach bum. If you told me he was a professional surfer, I would’ve believed you. “She charging you for lessons?”
“Not exactly,” I said. I finished the water bottle and tossed it on the pile of empties. Our trainers would clean and sterilize them so they were ready for the next practice. “You’re going to hear about it anyway, so figure you should hear it from me. Zoo said she’ll teach me to dance if I teach her how to date.”
