Worth the Trouble ✓

02 | still in the game

MY HANDS SHOOT OUT OF their own accord to slow my fall, but it feels like I've scraped them slightly.

"Ow," I gasp, winded from my fall.

A quick inspection reveals that only the top layer of skin broke. No blood, for now.

I whip around, getting to my feet. It's a girl.

"What the fuck?"

She will not be the reason I am eliminated. I refuse to let her be. Here I was, peacefully fleeing from a group of basketball players, when she stuck her foot into my path and tripped me. What gives? I've never even seen her before in my life.

The girl probably can't see me doing this, but I'm glaring daggers at her through my mask. And, in fact, her deep brown eyes are returning the expression.

Her hair is sleek, black, and cropped just above her shoulders. The Carsonville Academy blazer, so navy it's almost black, accentuates her petite frame like she's the perfect mannequin for private school attire. She's holding a Percy Jackson book in one hand.

What a geek.

Her other hand pulls out from behind her, clutching the Letterman jacket.

I lunge for it, but she takes a backward step onto the concrete ledge and holds it away from me. "Hey, give me that!" 

It disappears behind her back once more.

"That's mine."

"That's not yours," she says calmly.

Her voice is scratchy underneath the high tones, like both a fall breeze and the leaves it rustles. Like nothing I've ever heard. She arches an eyebrow, daring me to contradict her.

"It belongs to those basketball players who are chasing you right now."

"Still, give it here. I'm only borrowing it."

While I talk, hoping to distract her, I lunge around her for the jacket. She angles the garment away and keeps her body between it and me. Argh, I could wring her neck right now. The clock is ticking.

"I'll return it to him, promise."

"I know you will." She rolls her eyes. "It's Dare Week. I've heard kids running back and forth, into rooms, out of rooms, into rooms again, screaming, yelling and making other people run, scream and yell after them!"

When her voice raises, the scratch disappears. It's pure wind. She collects herself with a pause. "I'm reading here— at least, I'm trying to."

My eyes glance at the Percy Jackson novel again.

Okay. I get it. All this Dare Week ruckus has majorly pissed her off, and she's trying to put an end to it.

I bow my head in apology. "I'm sorry for disturbing you. If I could just get the jacket—"

"No. It seems my reading time is going to be disrupted every day this week, so I want compensation," she says adamantly.

"Come again?"

"I'll give you the ball back if you win Dare Week—"

My voice overflows with relief. "Oh, I intend to—"

"—and if you split your winnings with me. Fifty-fifty."

"Fifty-fifty? Are you kidding me?" I protest, "I'm the one with my ass on the line here!"

Halfway through that sentence, I lunge the other way for the Letterman jacket, but this infuriating girl reads me easily. She quickly steps further away and presses her back into stone the wall of the library building. I'm pretty sure a violently boiling kettle would accurately depict my brain right now.