SOPHIE
Tuesday morning starts with River theatrically examining his fingernails against the fluorescent lights by my locker.
"The trauma to my cuticles is mostly psychological," he announces, leaning his shoulder against the metal vent. "However, watching Nathan Carter sweat through a cotton T-shirt while hauling fifty-pound sacks of compost was almost worth the emotional hazard."
I shove my AP Biology binder into my backpack and give him a flat look. "He moved soil bags so you wouldn't have to get dirt on your shoes, River. It wasn't a Shakespearean courtship."
"In the animal kingdom, displaying raw physical utility to gain entry into the nesting area is the textbook definition of courtship," River shoots back, adjusting his glasses. "The boy didn't even ask for a glass of water. He j
