Daphne's Questionable Bet, page 4
“You must be the new student,” a deep voice said from behind me. I spun around to see a muscular bald man, his thick arms folded, every piece of him intimidating. The one thing that really threw me off, though, was his lime-green suit.
“And you must be pickle man.” My eyes widened in shock. “I just said that out loud, didn’t I?”
“Yep,” Zander chuckled next to me. When the teacher’s eyes narrowed at me, Zander stopped laughing and rushed to his seat.
Bentley, Sierra, and Weston were hot at his heels.
“You can call me Mr. Buckley,” he said, his voice stern.
I swear his pecs were moving under his suit. Laughing at me like they could rip me to shreds in point two seconds and then dance in my remnants. They’d better at least pick a good song for the memorial.
“There’s a seat available in the back.” He pointed a thick finger toward the back of the class.
I wanted to move, but another part of me worried that if I eased the muscles in my legs—wow, I was squeezing them tight—I might pee.
He took a step forward, towering over me. “Do you need assistance?”
“No, sir,” I managed to choke out. Man, I was sweating so bad. I needed that fan back. Or an ice-cold Cherry Coke.
A wide grin broke out on his face, revealing a set of bright-white teeth. “I’m just playing with you. Welcome to my class. It’s good to have you.”
My breath came out loud over my dry lips, almost sounding like a dying bird. “Thanks.”
The smile evaporated. “Now, have a seat.”
Prying my legs apart—thankfully, no pee escaped—I hurried down the aisle, taking the empty seat in the back. A couple of papers appeared in front of my face, and I looked to my right to see Weston holding them out to me. I snatched them up and went to fanning my face.
“You’ll get used to it,” Bentley said from the left of me.
The smallest amount of relief washed through me, knowing I had the two of them on either side of me. Like guard rails for my spastic thoughts.
Then I looked past Bentley to see Sierra sitting on the other side of him, her hardened gaze passing between the two of us. When her narrowed eyes finally settled on me, a look of competition filled them.
Her black eyebrow quirked, her eyes flashing to Bentley for a second. Oh, she couldn’t mean what I thought she meant, could she?
She tilted her head, as if asking if I accepted her challenge. I wasn’t sure exactly what the challenge was, but it had something to do with Bentley and what our moms went through all those years ago. Which made Bentley my dad, and thinking about it that way made me squirm.
But then I looked at Bentley, taking his casual, friendly self in, and he was really cute. Sweet. Great tetherball player, which was key to any great relationship. Wonderful smile. Charming. I could do worse.
With a wicked grin, I nodded at Sierra.
Chapter Seven
P.E. was a class created by the devil himself. I mean, staying in shape was important. Mom and I took Zumba classes all the time. I could dance. Not well, but it was fun enough that I didn’t care that I looked like a wet seal flopping around when I did.
But P.E. made me do all the things I was not good at—sports. Those required hand-eye coordination and balance, which were the two words my body rejected.
I failed P.E my freshman year. Mostly because I ditched a lot. The only rebellious thing I’d ever done in my entire life. Which was why I was in my junior year, standing outside in the cool breeze on the partly sunny day surrounded by a bunch of freshmen. Apparently, there were no openings with the sophomores.
Mom made me promise to attend every class. She said she’d contribute to my car fund, so I agreed.
Ms. Hernandez was basically a walking Asics ad from her hairband all the way to her red and yellow tennis shoes. She had her dark, curly hair pulled back in a high ponytail, which raised her already high cheekbones even more.
“Welcome,” she said, sizing me up, her tone firm and commanding. “I’m going to do everything in my power to make sure you pass this class. I talked to your teacher back in Utah and—”
“You talked with Mr. Faletutulu?” I asked in shock.
She quirked a sculpted eyebrow. “You say his name quite well. Took me a few tries.”
“He made us practice every day until we got it right.” I held up my hand. “You really talked to him?”
She nodded. “I take my job very seriously, Ms. Richards. He said he was pleased with your progress. He did say you could be quite salty at times.”
I grimaced. “Sarcastic, maybe. Salty? Dunno about that.”
She held up the whistle that was wrapped around her neck. “I like salt.” She blew the whistle so loud I took a step back.
All the freshmen swarmed to her, standing tall and straight.
“Listen up,” Ms. Hernandez said. “We have a new recruit. Daphne Richards. Treat her with respect and show her the ropes.”
“There aren’t actual ropes, are there?” I asked with my arm raised. “That’s just a disaster waiting to happen.”
Ms. Hernandez’s lips twitched with the smallest smile. “No.”
I wiped my hand across my forehead. “Whew. Thank goodness.”
“Let’s warm-up. Two laps around the track.” She turned to a group of boys clustered together. “Trent, Dax, Sebastian. You’re on babysitting duty.”
Everyone else took off, jogging toward the track like they were in the military, all in sync, and in two straight lines.
Three freshmen suddenly surrounded me, giving me three different looks. The first guy, average height and weight, brown hair and eyes, had a stern look that told me he took P.E. very seriously.
The second, a bleached-blond scrawny thing, looked like he was either high or thinking about getting high.
The third, with curly black hair and an eager smile, shifted uncomfortably where he stood, like he didn’t know what to do with his hands. Or the rest of his body.
“I’m Trent Dawson,” the first guy said. “Call me Dawson.”
“I don’t want to wait for our lives to be over,” I sang under my breath before I cursed my mom for making me watch the entire Dawson’s Creek series a couple of months ago. Also, for the record, I was team Pacey.
“What?” Trent asked. I was so not calling him Dawson. This wasn’t the military.
“Nothing,” I said.
He nodded at blondie. “This is Dax Powers, and he’ll stay by your side.” His eyes narrowed on the eager beaver. “Sebastian Lopez. Stay by me. And don’t look back at Richards. We need you focused.”
Sebastian stared at the asphalt, looking embarrassed.
Trent clapped his hands together. “Let’s head out. We’re already behind the others.”
The three quickly got into formation, jogging toward the track. I hurried to catch up, falling behind Sebastian and next to Dax.
Trent counted, making sure our steps were exact.
Oh, this was going to be fun.
The thing I hated about running was, well, everything. My knees, ankles, hips, shoulders, none of them appreciated all the jarring movement.
I breathed in, taking in all the air. “Wow. You guys have an abundance of air down here. You should send some on up to Utah.”
“Quiet, Richards!” Trent yelled from the front of the pack. We were quickly catching up to the others on the track. “Talking ruins focus.”
“Not for me,” I said, trotting easier than I usually did. “I mean, this is amazing.” I took a deep breath. “Back home, I’d be out of breath by now. Wheezing. But this.” Another deep breath. “It’s beautiful, is what it is.” Maybe running wouldn’t be so bad. Except for all the jarring.
“So, you have less air in Utah?” Dax asked from my side. The low sea level wasn’t helping with his breathing. I bet this was the only exercise the guy ever got.
“Higher altitude,” I said. “Makes you run out of breath a whole lot faster.”
Sebastian turned around to say something to me, losing his footing. He stumbled forward, flailing his arms, trying not to fall. I hurried forward and grabbed the back of his shirt, holding him up until he could regain his footing.
“Nice save, Richards!” Ms. Hernandez yelled from the center of the track.
“I told you not to turn around, Lopez!” Trent said with a growl. Well, kind of a wheezy growl.
“I wanted to ask her something!” Sebastian snapped. His curly hair bounced as he ran. The strain in his face told me he was working hard to keep up with Trent’s brisk pace.
Even with all the extra air, running still sucked. Dancing would make it so much better. So, I did a little hip swing move with my steps like I was at Zumba.
“No dancing while running, Richards!” Ms. Hernandez said.
I went back to normal, boring, running.
We ran the rest of the way in silence. As soon as we finished, Sebastian flopped onto the grass in the center of the field.
“I’m going to die,” he mumbled.
“Maybe if you laid off the Cheetos,” Trent said, glowering down at him, “it wouldn’t be so difficult.”
I stepped up to Trent, folding my arms and tilting my chin high. “Maybe you should lay off douchebaggery. This is P.E., not the freaking Olympics.”
A loud whistle blew near my ear, making me slam my palms against my ears.
“We don’t use that word here,” Ms. Hernandez said.
I slowly lowered my hands. “Like, the entire state of California, or just during this class?”
“During this class,” Ms. Hernandez said. She turned to the others. “Everyone sit on the grass. We’re going to work on our core.”
I sat down next to Sebastian and smiled.
He smiled shyly back. “Thanks.”
“He reminds me of this kid back in Utah.” I clasped my hands behind my head, ready to do crunches. “He has no idea what an ‘at ease’ stance even is. Always ready for war.”
The phone tucked in the band of my pants buzzed. I normally didn’t have it with me during P.E., but I was waiting to hear from Grams and Gramps.
I shifted my body away from Ms. Hernandez and pulled out my phone. Gramps stared back at me, tired, but smiling.
“Hey, Gramps,” I said as quietly as I could.
He leaned forward. “Why are we whispering?”
“I’m in P.E.”
“Ah. Just wanted to let you know we are safe and sound in London.” He took a drink of Dr Pepper from a bottle. “Even found one of these beauties at a local store.”
Grams snatched the phone from him and waved at me. “Hey, Daphne!”
“Shhh!” I glanced over my shoulder, but Ms. Hernandez was busy helping a girl with her form.
Grams flinched. “Oops. Sorry.” Her grin came back. “You look great. I think being in California is doing you good.”
“It’s only been like a couple of days,” I said.
“Which confirms my hypothesis,” she said.
Suddenly, a head popped over my shoulder, and both Grams and I let out a yelp.
“Richards!” Trent yelled. “Phones are not allowed here!”
“Yeesh,” I said. “Calm down, drill sergeant.”
“Phone?” Ms. Hernandez said. She came over to us, shaking her head in disappointment when she saw the phone in my hand.
Not the way I wanted to start off.
“I’m so sorry, Ms. Hernandez,” I said, standing. “It’s just—”
“It’s my fault,” Grams yelled from the phone.
By now, everyone had stopped their crunches and were watching the scene unfold. Heat climbed from my neck up to my cheeks from all the attention.
Ms. Hernandez turned her focus to my phone.
Grams looked sullen. “You see, we had to go out of the country for surgery for her grandpa.”
What? Thank goodness I stopped myself before I said that out loud.
Tears glistened in Grams’ eyes. “This place has the best surgeons for his condition, and it’s basically our last resort. Daphne has been so worried about the outcome. The time distance threw everything off. I just had to call and let her know the surgery went well before we went to bed.”
I put a hand on my chest, letting out a fake breath of relief. “I’m so glad to hear that.” With all the nerves of having people looking at me, my voice shook, which added a nice touch.
“I’ll force myself to stay up later tomorrow so I can catch you after school.” Grams wiped a tear from her eye. “Wish you could be here, Daphne girl. But Gramps is fighting for you.” She snatched up a tissue from the desk next to her and dabbed under her nose. “I hope I didn’t get you in too much trouble.”
I chanced a glance at Ms. Hernandez. I hadn’t wanted to pull my gaze from the phone, worried I’d ruin Grams’ spectacular performance. All those years she spent in community theater were paying off.
Ms. Hernandez’s eyes had softened. “I think we can let it slide this one time.”
“Oh, thank you,” Grams said. “Love you, Daphne.”
“Love you, too, Grams.” I turned the phone away from everyone so only I could see Grams. “Give Gramps my love.”
With a sly smile and a wink, she ended the call. I immediately calmed just from having that moment with Grams. My family always brought me back to my safe place. I relished the peace.
Ms. Hernandez clapped her hands. “Back to work!”
And, it was gone.
Dax leaned over once Ms. Hernandez was far enough away from us. “You need to learn how to be sneaky about it. Having your phone in class.”
“I was trying.” I nodded at Trent. “But Stonewall Jackson over there ruined everything.”
“There’s an art to it,” Dax continued. “While everything was going down with your grandparents—” He pulled a balled-up Subway wrapper from his pocket. “—I ate a sub. Not one person noticed.”
“So, it’s about creating a distraction,” I said.
Smiling, he nodded. “Exactly.”
“Um, question,” I said. “Why did you have a sub in your pocket?”
Dax looked at me like my question was more absurd than the act itself. “Why wouldn’t I?”
“Cuz it’s weird,” I mumbled under my breath.
I mean, yeah, I carried around a bottle of cherry flavoring in my bag—totally normal—but I didn’t bring it with me to P.E.
Although, the more I thought about it, the more I was craving a sub sandwich, so I guess Dax won this round.
Chapter Eight
Veronica and Taylor ended up bringing Mom and me some carne asada tacos from a local joint for dinner.
Mom and I both moved toward the family room, where we usually liked to eat back home, but with the house renovation, it was way too pretty to eat in. With an identical sigh, we went into the kitchen and sat down.
“I want to hear all about your day,” Mom said, unwrapping her taco. “Don’t leave anything out. I sat alone in the antique shop all day, and I need some excitement.”
My teeth sunk into the taco, and the perfectly seasoned meat brought me to my happy place. “This is so good,” I said through my chewing.
Mom’s eyes went crossed. “It’s heaven.”
Veronica grinned across the table. “Told you they had the best carne asada tacos.” She started to say something else but cut off, her smile fading. She used to frequent the place with her dad.
“They sure don’t make them like this in Utah,” I said before I took another bite.
Mom wiped her mouth with a napkin. “School. Details.”
Taylor threw out her arms. “She survived! Minimal battle wounds.”
I pointed to the Care Bears on my shirt. “That’s because I had my homies with me.”
“Rollin’ with my homies,” Mom sang. “Sippin’ on yak all night.”
We all stared at her.
She stuffed some meat back into her taco that had fallen out, then licked the remnants off her finger. “Coolio.”
When we continued to stare at her, confused, she sighed. “I’ve failed as a mother. We can watch Clueless later.”
“Which is exactly how I feel right now,” I said, making her laugh.
A weird look crossed over Veronica’s eyes like she had a secret. She opened her mouth to say something, but then took a bite of her taco instead.
“What?” I asked, wiping my mouth with a napkin.
She grinned through her chewing and cast a knowing glance at Taylor.
Taylor’s eyes lit up. “Oh, that’s right.”
“What?” Mom asked, leaning forward in intrigue.
Veronica finished off the bite in her mouth. “Daphne already has a secret admirer.”
Mom’s jaw dropped. “Already?” She reached out and placed a hand on Veronica’s arm. “Is he hot?”
“He’s cute,” Taylor said. “Totally perfect for Daphne.”
I sat back, snatching up some of my hair and twirling it around my finger. “Cute? Why don’t I get hot? I deserve hot.”
“Oh, I know you think he’s hot,” Veronica said. “He’s Daphne level hot.”
I frowned. “What does that mean?”
Taylor waved her hand nonchalantly. “Everyone has their own idea of hot. I mean, Veronica and I have extremely different taste in guys.”
Veronica took a diced tomato that had fallen out of her taco and threw it at Taylor, barely missing her face. “DeShawn is gorgeous!”
“To you.” Taylor picked up the tomato that had landed on her shoulder and tossed it on her plate. “I think Zander is hot.”
“Eh.” Veronica twisted her hand side to side. “He’s okay.”
Taylor looked at me. “Hence the different versions of hot.”
There was only one guy that had caught my eye at school, and that was Weston. Had he said something to them?
What if it was Sebastian from P.E.? He kept looking all googly-eyed at me. But he was way too young. A sophomore I could possibly do, but not a freshman. I hadn’t given any indication that I liked him, did I? I did stand up for him, but I would have done that for anybody.
“Who?” Mom pointed to Veronica’s phone that sat on the table. “Show me his picture.”
