Free Magic Hands by Jennifer Laurens

heart protected.
    What was real to Cort? She wondered.
    Rachel looked amazing today in jeans and a light pink hoodie with Sweetstuff across the front of it. Yeah, she was pretty sweet, that was for sure.
    That was real. Cort tried not to let his eyes wander to where she sat. Real is this need I have to get to know her. So consuming. Like hunger.
    “Anybody want to share?” Miss Tingey scanned the class for volunteers. No one raised their hands, the room unusual y quiet. She smiled. “This one’s more personal isn’t it?” Slowly she paced in front of the room with her arms folded. “Why is it more personal?”
    Somebody spoke. “Because it’s where our brains are and that can incriminate.”
    Everyone laughed and Miss Tingey nodded. “True, but that’s also what’s interesting—to see where everybody’s at this very moment. Who’s brave?
    Or do I just cal on people?”
    “We could say whatever,” one boy cal ed out, “and you wouldn’t know whether it was real or not.”
    “But that wouldn’t be any fun,” she teased.
    “Real for me right now is keeping the friggin’ deer out of my mom’s yard,” Kevin sighed.
    Everyone laughed. Cort leaned over to him. “You stil on that?”
    Kevin slumped down in his chair. “Nothing works, man.”
     
    A general discussion about being honest or not fol owed.
    Final y Miss Tingey cal ed on Maria de Silva.
    Maria’s cheeks flushed red. “Real right now is tonight’s dance and I didn’t get asked.”
    “I’l take you,” a boy told her from the back. She looked at him and turned even redder.
    “Thank you, Maria.” Miss Tingey scanned the room.
    “How about you, Cort?”
    Cort shifted under the glare of the spotlight. He lifted his journal—a blue spiral notebook. “Uh. Real right now is too personal for me to tel the class.”
    Swoons and howls of taunting fil ed the air. Somebody tried to grab his journal. Some of the girls suggested what might be written on those coveted pages. But Cort just looked adorably shy, Rachel thought, except when those brown eyes met hers. Then he looked hot.
    “Personal’s what we want,” Miss Tingey said. “And unless it’s obscene, I expect you to share it. Maria’s was personal, don’t you think?”
    The class agreed, and soon they were chanting, “Read, read, read.”
    Rachel joined in. She wanted more than anyone to know what Cort had written. He spoke with the reluctance of doing something he real y didn’t want to do but knew he wouldn’t get out of.
    “Real is proving to Rachel Baxter that al jocks aren’t jerks.”
    The room thundered with screeches of approval and laughter. Some of the guys slapped Cort’s palm.
    Rachel buried her head in her crossed arms on her desk and tried to stop laughing. Her face burned. People patted her back, somebody tickled her and she jerked upright.
    “Okay,” Miss Tingey laughed. “I guess you two have something to work out.”
    “Rachel should read what’s real,” a boy suggested.
    Shaking her head, Rachel said, “Never.”
    “That’s not fair,” Cort protested, his playful smirk aimed her way.
    Rachel slapped her journal shut. That’s al she’d need, to read aloud her feelings for Cort. Thankful y, Miss Tingey moved on to other students, but Cort stil grinned at her.
    Subtly he mouthed, “Later.”
    The movement of his lips sent a pleasant shudder right down her center. She gave him a non-committal shrug.
    After class, Cort fol owed Rachel. “What’s in your journal, Rache?” he asked. She caught a whiff of something rich and heavenly he’d sprayed on.
    His brown eyes sparkled.
    “You’l never know.”
    “I shared mine.”
    “How nice for you. Can we change the subject now?”
    “Why? You look pretty when you’re embarrassed.”
    Heat flushed her cheeks. He was charming, another point for Cort Davies. “I bet you say that to al the girls.”
    “Nope.” He opened the door to the locker hal for her and she passed, stealing a glimpse of his muscled