XAVIER
I don't know why I keep looking for her.
She's not in the cafeteria. Not in the courtyard. Not in the library, where she usually hides like the world's too loud and she’d rather read than deal with it. I don't blame her.
I haven't stopped thinking about what she said.
Not the part where she told me off. I deserved that. Every sharp word she threw at me in the library was a knife I probably had coming. But that last line--"You want a partner for this project, fine. But keep your questions to yourself. You don't get to be curious about me."
That one stuck. But still, I look.
When I finally spot her through the glass windows of the gym, something in my chest tightens. She's talking to Coach Lila. Her back is straight, arms stiff at her sides. From this distance, I can’t read her
