2

                                    

                                          
I snap my gum and glance around the room, twisting my pencil through my fingers. Thirty other students have their heads down, their pencils scratching loudly on the thick test packet. Outside, the sky is grey, and trees shake in the wind. 
                          
I take a breath and force myself to focus on the math problem in front of me. I can feel Mrs. Gobfrey staring at me from the front of that room. I swear, that woman is out to get me.
                          
Fifteen minutes later, the bell rings and I hand in my test with everyone else. I ended up just plugging in random equations. I mean, I'm already failing in this class. What else do I have to lose?
                          
At lunch, the conversation is on hockey. On game days, it always is. On practice days, it usually is, too. What else are Ethan, Luke, Ollie, and I supposed to talk about?
                          
Ethan takes a bite of his sandwich. "Remember that Royals defensemen that tripped Johnson last time and didn't get a penalty?"
                          
"Oh, yeah," says Luke Chan, stabbing at his salad. 
                          
Ollie Johnson nods. He's the most recognizable off the ice, with curly red hair and tons of freckles. "I hate that guy," he says.
                          
Luke grins. "Fight him, Ollie."
                          
"Yeah, fight him, Ollie," echoes Ethan, laughing. 
                          
Ollie rolls his eyes and scratches his head. "Yeah, yeah," he mutters. Ollie hates fighting. He's the nicest guy on the team.
                          
I lean back in my seat and glance around the cafeteria. I guess East High is kind of cliquey - I mean, the hockey jocks have their own table, at least. You got the theater kids, the smart kids, the football jocks, the mean girls... I don't know who else. Veronica was right. I don't get out much.
                          
I turn back to my chicken wrap, all soggy and sad, and peel my orange instead. The cafeteria is loud and bright, with chairs scraping back and sneakers squeaking on the floor. I still have to talk to Sam. 
                          
"Beckett over here is failing math," says Ethan. I throw my orange peel at him and he ducks, laughing loudly. 
                          
"Whatever," I say. 
                          
"And Coach is gonna bench him."
                          
Ollie looks genuinely concerned. "Coach can't bench you, Cameron."
                          
Luke shakes his head, his dark hair falling in front of his eyes. "Coach always says stuff like that," he says. He takes another aggressive stab at his salad. "He'll play." The air falls quiet and I chew slowly, waiting for someone to break the silence.
                          
I clear my throat. "I just have to find a tutor," I say.
                          
My teammates nod, and the conversation shifts to another Royals player that they say is the absolute worst. 
                          
~
                          
After school, I walk over to Sam's house. Veronica's making me. I stuff my hands in the pockets of my sweatshirt and pull my baseball hat lower, my breath coming out in clouds.
                          
Six houses down to the right, she said. He's right beside the drugstore. Warm, yellow light spills through the narrow windows that line his front door. I knock quickly and bounce on my toes to keep warm.
                          
It swings open and I glance up. "Hey, Sam?" I say, but awkwardly like it's a question.
                          
"Hey, Cameron," he says, surprised. "What's up?"
                          
Okay, if you thought I didn't know who this guy was, I definitely recognize him now. I think we went to preschool together, but he moved away for grade school and didn't come back until a few years ago. He has sandy hair and bright blue eyes, and he's wearing a soft green sweatshirt.