The Impossible Vastness Of Us. Samantha Young
but I signed up, anyway.
Tobias Rochester was a small and competitive school. If you didn’t get your foot in the door of a team the first day of the school year it was doubtful you ever would.
The only other extracurricular options left to me were the Tobias Rochester Chronicle and whatever Eloise could rustle me up in the theater. I still hadn’t heard from Franklin and every time I walked into Modern European History I braced myself for disappointment.
On Friday I did just that as I strode into his class.
“India,” Franklin said as soon as I stepped into the room, “see me after class, please.”
I sucked in a breath and nodded, not wanting to get my hopes up. Part of me wished he would just tell me before class started so I knew one way or the other if my school career was destined for the toilet.
Settled at my seat, I kept my head down, not looking up when the seat next to me scraped back. My breathing came a little faster and I hated that Finn made me apprehensive. I refused to acknowledge his presence just as he’d ignored my existence for the last four days. We’d passed one another in the hall and, like Eloise, he’d looked anywhere but at me. He never spoke to me in the three classes we shared and he’d also ignored me last night when Eloise had her crew over to hang out by the pool and eat pizza. Thankfully Theo and Hayley hadn’t been home so I wasn’t forced to go out and sit with them all.
I did think it was weird that last night was the first time I’d seen Finn at the house since my first day there. Plus, he’d never been there alone. It bugged me that I was so curious about his and Eloise’s relationship. Why should I care?
I cut Finn a look out of the corner of my eye. He was wearing a dark blue Henley with black jeans. All week I’d seen him in shirts that were rolled up at the sleeves and suit pants. Today his top was more fitted, highlighting his broad shoulders and slim waist. I’d discovered Finn was the only junior on the school’s very distinguished rowing crew, and to top that he was the stroke, the most important position in the boat. The stroke was the rower closest to the stern and set the stroke rate and rhythm for the rest of his crew to follow. In a way he was kind of like their leader, their captain.
Turning my focus on Franklin, I listened as he went over what we’d been discussing all week. Toward the end of class he sat on his desk and grinned at us in a way that made me wary. That was a grin that wanted something from us.
“So,” he said, “I’m going to split you into pairs and each team is going to give the class a verbal and visual presentation in two weeks.”
The tops of my ears got hot at Franklin’s announcement. This could either be a very good thing for me, or a very bad thing. If Franklin teamed me up with someone I didn’t know, then there was a chance I could straighten out a few of those rumors and actually make a friend. But if Franklin teamed me up with—
“Finn and India, you’ll be partners. Your topic is the Lisbon earthquake of 1755 and its social and political effects on the rest of the world.”
I was screwed.
I tensed as Franklin smiled at us, completely unaware of the major disaster he was creating.
I didn’t hear a word he said after that.
Bracing myself, I turned to Finn.
The muscle in his jaw ticked.
So he was pissed.
Well, that just pissed me off.
“Looks like you’re going to have to make eye contact with me,” I said.
He turned his head slightly to look at me. “Looks like it.”
“You know I’m not really a drug addict, right? Your good buddy Gabe made that crap up.”
His lips quirked at the corner.
My God...was that an actual semismile?
“I know,” he said.
“So that should make working with me a little more reassuring.”
I got no reply.
“You do also know that there is actual talking involved in a verbal presentation?”
“Was it the word verbal that gave it away?” he said.
I smirked. “I’m just pointing out that you’re going to have to work on this whole brooding monosyllabic thing you’ve got going on if we’re going to get a good grade.”
“Noted.”
“I guess you’re going to start working on it tomorrow, then.”
He sighed and sat back in his chair to look at me fully. “Do you have a smart reply to everything?”
“Not to Toaster Strudel.”
If I wasn’t mistaken that little quirk at the corner of his lips came back.
Did Finn actually have a sense of humor?
Before I could say anything more the bell rang, ending class. Finn immediately gathered his stuff.
“Before you go, we should arrange a time to meet up for this presentation.”
“After school Monday? I don’t have rowing then.”
“Sure. Where?”
“Front gate.” And with that clipped response he strode away.
Once the class had filtered out to head for lunch, I made my way over to Franklin. My heart rate was a little fast.
Do not get your hopes up. Do not get your hopes up, I chanted over and over in my head.
“India, thanks for staying behind,” Franklin said when I approached.
“Of course.”
“I’m sorry I’ve taken all week to get back to you. I was hoping to let you know what the situation was sooner but one of our students on the Chronicle surprised us by quitting. Too many after-school activities apparently.”
That meant there were two spots open on the paper, which gave me a better chance.
Do not get your hopes up.
Franklin smiled widely at me. “India, I have to admit that I’m really impressed by what you accomplished at your school paper. The stories you oversaw were current, important and on point. I particularly loved the article you wrote on your interview with the mayor. You asked some hard questions about city council budget cuts. Relevant questions.”
I flushed with pride at his compliment. “Thank you.”
“The other candidates were good but they weren’t good enough. I doubt any of them are truly interested in the Chronicle as much as they’re interested in adding as many extracurriculars to their schedule as they can to impress the Ivies.”
I raised an eyebrow at the comment and he laughed.
“I never said that.”
“I never heard it.”
“No matter my theories, the truth is at the end of the day you’re the best candidate. That’s why I’d like to offer you a place on the paper.”
Finally I was getting somewhere. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. I see you doing well with the Chronicle. I think if you work hard enough this year the goal of making editor in your senior year wouldn’t be a fanciful one.”
Just what I had in mind. I grinned. “That would be wonderful. I’ll be the best book reviewer the Chronicle has ever seen.”
Franklin chuckled. “I’m sure you will. You’ll hopefully also be our final reader...our Ethics Maven. If you like?”
I was stunned by the offer. The Ethics Maven may not be a reporter but it was the person that gave reporters and editors the third degree