Dare You to Date the Point Guard (Rock Valley High Book 2)

by Lacy Andersen

  Chapter Two

  Two junior football players scuffling over the last slice of pizza nearly upended my lunch tray as I made my way to my usual table on the far side of the cafeteria. It was always like this on the first day back at school after the winter holidays, but this day had a bittersweet quality about it.

  Today, we were seniors.

  It was our last first day back. I’d never get to experience this again.

  “Uh, oh, she’s wearing it again,” my best friend Mandy Hale announced as I set my tray on the table across from her. She looked me up and down, her long, blonde ponytail draped over her shoulder and her blue eyes twinkling with laughter. “It’s the look.”

  Mandy practically lived year-round in yoga pants and sporty jackets that popped at the collar, and today was no exception. As a state-champion long distance runner, she liked to stay work-out ready — whatever that meant. The only times I liked to sweat were summer days spent on the beach or during the season finale of The Bachelor.

  “What look?” I asked, confused.

  Audrey Black, the final piece of our BFF trio, sat beside Mandy. She was already halfway through a burrito bowl with extra guac. While Audrey and I both shared long, brunette curls, she was the shorter of the two of us, with large, brown eyes, a porcelain complexion, and a biting wit. She was the rock star of our group with a killer voice and song-writing talent to boot. Not to mention, Rock Valley High’s newly crowned Homecoming Royalty, along with her boyfriend, Collin Preston.

  Wagging her eyebrows, Audrey shot me a smile. “Is it the I-can’t-believe-we’re-graduating-life-is-officially-over look?”

  They both tried to suppress their giggles as I sat daintily on the edge of my seat and blinked at them.

  “I know you guys think I’m pathetic, but this is serious. We’re experiencing a year of lasts. Last first day. Last winter break. Last semester. And pretty soon, it’ll be our last lunch together at this very table. I’m going to miss it so much, I think my heart might break.”

  I didn’t like being negative. Usually, I was the one telling everyone to look on the bright side. Be the light. It was all a part of my vision board at home.

  This summer, I’d cut out pictures of everything I wanted to accomplish for the year and tacked them above my desk. It reminded me daily of the art pieces I had to create, the fun times I wanted to have with my best friends, and the colleges my parents wanted me to get into. Smack dab in the middle was a Bob Marley graphic with the don’t worry, be happy quote. And written in my neat handwriting below it was a goal to bring everyone in my life a little bit of happiness — including myself.

  Apparently, I needed to start staring at my vision board a little longer.

  Audrey and Mandy exchanged a look, their smiles dissolving. They reached across the table and each took one of my hands, holding them tight.

  “This might be our last year, but we’ve still got a lot of firsts coming our way,” Audrey said, her lips curving into a hopeful smile. “I mean, look at me. Just this year alone, I’ve had my first performance. First kiss. First boyfriend.”

  She blushed and ducked her head, no doubt thinking about her stud of a boyfriend. They were perfect for each other and I just couldn’t handle the cuteness.

  Mandy squeezed my hand and leaned closer, her eyebrows raising. “And so you know, just because it’s our last year, doesn’t mean it’s over for us. You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

  “Or me,” Audrey added.

  “Okay, okay, I’m convinced.” Laughter burst from my mouth, at once easing the heavy mood that had fallen on me that morning. They were right. It may be our last year at Rock Valley High, but we had a lot of new things to experience. “And speaking of firsts, I’m starting on the senior class project today with Mrs. Drew, so I guess I can’t be in such a bad mood after all.”

  “I can’t wait to see what it looks like when you’re finished.” Audrey made a face. “Because honestly, I don’t know how you can see art in a bunch of scrap metal. Seriously, I would be more likely to get tetanus in that heap.”

  I laughed again and thought fondly of my little heap of twisted metal. Mrs. Drew had agreed to store it for me in the art room supply closet so that I could work on it during my Advanced Art class in third period. Every year, the graduating class gifted something to the school and this year the seniors had voted on a sculpture made by yours truly to grace the prestigious lawns of Rock Valley High. It was my very first art commission. I couldn’t have been more happy and nervous at the same time.

  Art was in my blood. In my soul. I couldn’t imagine going a day without creating something. My fingers itched if I didn’t put a paintbrush to canvas or dig my hands into some modeling clay. It was an addiction of the best kind. And this was the first time I felt like a true artist.

  At least that part of my vision board was coming true.

  As I thought about my life as an artist, my gaze drifted across the lunch room. It landed on Mason Finnick, sitting at the table mostly settled by his fellow basketball players. He seemed focused on his lunch, hardly caring to look up and join in the conversations buzzing around him. As usual, he wore a dark and brooding expression. He wouldn’t have looked out of place at a funeral.

  I allowed myself to stare at him as he chomped on his burger and fries. Mason had popped up into my thoughts a lot over the last weekend of winter break. I’d never met someone so surly. So stubbornly moody.

  It made me wonder if he’d been born that way, like he’d come straight out of his mom with heavy eyebrows and a disapproving look for the nurses. Maybe he had a collage of school pictures hanging up at his home, each of them featuring a scowling little Mason in miniature. The thought nearly made me snort into my water glass.

  But then Mason looked up suddenly from his meal, our gazes met, and I ended up choking on a gulp of water instead. Mandy reached across the table to pat me hard on the back as my face turned red and my lungs tried to eject the fluid into my napkin. When it was all clear and I could breathe again, I finally had the nerve to look up. Mason was gone, his seat abandoned, and his tray nowhere to be seen.

  “He’s a ninja,” I whispered in awe.

  “Who’s a ninja?” Audrey followed my stare over her shoulder and then looked back at me as if I’d lost my mind. “Have you been breathing in too many paint fumes in art class again?”

  “No, I’m fine.” I shook my head and threw my napkin on my tray, my appetite suddenly gone. “I have to go find someone. Catch you girls later?”

  They didn’t have time to respond before I plucked my tray from the table and went to empty it over the trash cans. Mason couldn’t have gone far. I could find him in the hall before my next class started.

  I wasn’t really sure why I wanted to catch up with him at all. Or why I couldn’t get him out of my thoughts. He so clearly didn’t want to be my friend. Still, there was something about him that seemed to draw me in. The guy just needed someone to talk to. Someone who could make it past his deadly stare and closed-off gestures to the boy inside.

  I just couldn’t help myself. I had to try. After all, it was on my vision board to spread happiness this year.

  I’d almost made it to the cafeteria exit when Mrs. Alberts, the school secretary, flagged me down. She wore her usual green tweed power suit combo with her long gray hair twisted into a severe knot at the base of her neck. Clicking across the linoleum floor in her sensible heels, she smiled sweetly and touched my arm.

  “Trina, dear, everyone is so excited to see what you’ve come up with for that statue of yours,” she said.

  Immediately, my stomach dropped to the floor and the room seemed to tilt. Up until today, the senior project had seemed like such a far-fetched idea. Like it wasn’t real. But now, the news was out. This really was my first art commission and I couldn’t screw this up.

  Mrs. Alberts must’ve seen the mild panic that swept over me because she squeezed my elbow and shook her head. “There’s no need to worry, c
hild. You’re going to do splendidly. Now, you hurry on to class while I go and grab one of those blueberry crumb muffins before they sell out. I’ve been missing them over the holidays. They keep me regular.”

  “Yeah, don’t want to be irregular,” I mumbled as relief trickled down my spine.

  Okay, so that was a bit of a freak out moment. Usually, I didn’t get all panicky about my art skills. They were something I loved. Something that soothed me. Getting into medical school was what I really got all sweaty-palmed about. And disappointing my parents. Thinking about that could keep me up at night staring up at the ceiling of my room for hours. Worry had a way of wrapping its icy fingers around my neck lately.

  Geez — I really needed to get a grip on that vision board.

  Nodding goodbye to Mrs. Alberts, I headed down the hall in search of Mason. He couldn’t have made it very far. I thought about what I’d say when I found him. How I could worm my way into being his friend. Honestly, this was a new experience. I wasn’t used to begging people to be my friends.

  I prided myself on knowing the name of every single kid who went to Rock Valley High. Making friends was easy enough, if you just looked people in the eyes when they talked. Everyone in this world wanted to make a connection, whether that was for a thirty second conversation about their day or a long chat over coffee. Those connections were what kept us grounded. Kept us sane. And if I could make one person’s day better by offering them that connection they needed, then I could go away happy.

  Maybe that’s all that Mason needed.

  But as I rounded the corner toward the office, all of those thoughts about connections flew out of my head. A backpack lay on the floor, its contents sprawled across the polished tiles. Two kids were locked in a fight, shoving each other and trying their best to land punches. Streams of angry curses filled the air.

  This was definitely not the kind of connection I’d been thinking about.

  “Stop that!” I croaked, my vocal chords refusing to work. Somebody had to end this. They were only going to hurt each other. Violence didn’t solve anything. “Please, don’t do that!”

  But before I could get my feet to move forward, a blur shot out of the far hallway and grabbed the taller kid by his shirt, pinning him hard against a locker. My vision cleared and I inhaled sharply when I realized it was Mason who’d come to the rescue.

  “Quit it!” His voice was barely above the level of a growl. He glanced back and forth between the kids. “Now.”

  My heart beat loudly as I watched the pinned kid struggle against Mason’s arm.

  “Man, I was just about to beat his face into the floor. What the —?”

  “Try that again and I’ll personally see to it that you’re benched from JV for the rest of January,” Mason answered, his face inches from the kid’s. “You’re better than this, Scotty. You can’t go around picking fights. You want to ruin your life for something as stupid as that? Just to pick on a kid trying to keep to himself? He doesn’t deserve that.”

  I couldn’t help but stare at the coiled muscles along Mason’s back and arms as he kept Scotty pinned. There was one thing I was certain of: basketball did give that boy some nice looking muscles. It was probably one of the reasons all of the girls like Charley knew his name. He looked good. And seeing him charge in here and break up a fight like a superhero was doing funny things in the pit of my stomach.

  “All right, all right.” Scotty rested the back of his head on the locker, the fight going out of his body. “I’m done, okay?”

  “Good.” Mason dropped his arm from Scotty’s chest and frowned. “Now, apologize to him, or I’ll let Coach Ben know what you’ve been up to.”

  The look on Scotty’s face nearly made me snort with giggles and give away my hiding spot. I was pretty sure he’d never been made to apologize for a single thing in his life. With a barely concealed scowl, he walked toward the other kid and extended a hand.

  I retreated another step around the corner and leaned against the wall, fighting off the smile that was threatening to burst across my lips. Yet more proof that Mason Finnick wasn’t such a tin heart after all. If he could stop a fight like that and get them to apologize, he really might be a superhero.

  This was a sign. A great sign. And a great reason to talk to him again.

  As I took a deep breath for courage, I rounded the corner and found it empty. No angry basketball players. No signs of a fight. Not a whisper. It was like Mason Finnick had disappeared again. Vanished, into thin air.

  “Totally a ninja,” I whispered, for the second time in a matter of minutes.

  So much for a connection.

  Mason Finnick seemed to be determined to keep me as far away as possible. Too bad for him, I’d added his name to my vision board this morning.

  And the vision board was law.

  Chapter Three

  It’s true what they say: one’s man trash is another man’s treasure. In this case, the pile of twisted, warped, and rusting metal on the floor of the art closet in front of me was my personal gold mine. Already, I could see the pieces starting to come together. With a little welding magic, it was going to be a beautiful and abstract piece that would make my senior class proud.

  All I needed to do was begin. My fingers already had that itch.

  “Wait, Frye, don’t even think about touching that!” called a voice behind me.

  Despite the fact that my fingertips were only inches away from the precious material, I dropped my hand and turned to see Mrs. Drew hustling toward me.

  She was, without a doubt, the coolest teacher at Rock Valley High. Her stick-straight brown hair, suede tan skirts, and knee-high boots kind of gave her a hippy vibe. She painted amazing murals in the hallways and loved classic rock music. Fresh out of college and standing at only five feet tall, sometimes it was hard to tell her apart from the students.

  “Mrs. D, I watched all of those YouTube videos you sent me about welding,” I said, putting my hands on my hips. “I girl scout promise I won’t light my hair on fire. Can’t I get started?”

  “Absolutely not.” She grabbed an armful of paint from a nearby shelf, nearly dropping one of the bottles of royal blue. “Principal Styles sent me an email over lunch that said you’re no longer in my class. Something about a scheduling issue. You’re supposed to report to the library for an independent study instead.”

  My jaw dropped. She couldn’t be serious. It was my first day of Advanced Art class and already there was a kink in the plan. The statue was never going to get done like this. It was like the universe was plotting against me.

  Mrs. Drew didn’t seem to share my concern as she flittered about the closet, grabbing supplies haphazardly. I followed her out of the closet and into her classroom, where a room full of wide-eyed freshmen sat ready for their first Art I class. Their gazes trailed me around the room as I stuttered.

  “Y-y-you’ve got to be kidding me? This is my independent study. Advanced Art. I can’t do that in the library. All those books will turn into kindling the moment I light up my welding torch. It’s a fire hazard.”

  “I don’t know what to tell you, sister.” Mrs. Drew dropped a bottle of paint on each table of students. She blew a strand of hair out of her face and looked about the room as if she’d forgotten something. “I tried to call Principal Styles back the moment I got the email, but he’s in a meeting for the next two hours. I’m afraid we’ll just have to wait until later to straighten this mess out. Until then, don’t even think about touching those materials. I know I won’t be able to pry you away from it if you get your hands on them.”

  I hung my head and pouted. She was right. After failing my mission to find Mason after lunch, I’d been fully ready to dive into this project without a safety net. Whatever had happened with my schedule had to be a mistake.

  Computers made errors all the time. My ancient iPhone liked to post gibberish Facebook posts occasionally. Maybe the school’s computers were on the fritz. That had to be it.

 
“Are you sure I can’t stay?” I asked, putting on my sweetest voice. “I could demonstrate how to use stippling in a landscape painting for the new kids.”

  For the first time, Mrs. Drew looked up at me, her frown softening. She placed a hand on my elbow and squeezed. “Listen, sweetie, I’m sure this is all just a mistake. Go to the library today and we’ll figure all of this out before your next class. One missed day won’t be the end of the world. And that’ll give me just enough time to get this class in line so that I can devote more time to helping you. Goodness knows, you can’t just pick up a blow torch without some proper training. Trust me — that’s how I got the wicked scar on my arm.”

  My shoulders drooped and I sighed in acceptance. She was right. One hour in the library wasn’t going to kill me. My project would have to wait for another day.

  With a reluctant glance over my shoulder, I dragged my backpack out of the room and down the hall toward the library. I’d spent enough time in there that the librarian, Mr. Arnold, actually remembered my name. Which was a miracle, considering the man was about a hundred years old and spent most of his time falling asleep in his chair with a stack of books under his arms. He waved me over when I walked in and I crossed the room toward his desk as if I were walking toward the gallows.

  “Ms. Frye,” he said in a gravelly voice, looking down at a paper in front of him, “I received a notification that you will be joining us for Research Methods 101. College dual credit. Is that correct?”

  Suddenly, alarms went off in the back of my head. Research Methods was exactly the kind of class my parents would want me to take for Pre-Med. Something smelled fishy.

  “Does my mom and dad know about this?” I asked, gripping the edge of his desk. Desperation leaked into my voice.

  I wanted him to tell me I was wrong. That this was only an error. Not that my parents had just mercilessly kicked me out of the only class I was looking forward to this entire semester. They couldn’t have. It wasn’t possible.