Free Most Likely to Succeed by Jennifer Echols Page A

until he filled my blurry field of vision. “Kaye,” he said, “what’s wrong?”
    “Math,” I sobbed.
    “Um . . . Come over here.” He grabbed my hand and tugged me toward the band instrument truck. “Watch out,” he warned, settling his other hand at my waist and guiding me through the half-dressed band members kneeling over black cases laid out across the asphalt. He slid onto the back bumper of the truck and sat me down beside him.
    “Now,” he said, “what’s wrong besides math?”
    “I hate it here,” I grumbled to the silhouettes of the palm trees that dotted the parking lot.
    “Really?” he asked. “I love it here. I just wish it wasn’t so hot.”
    I sniffled. “It’s Florida, Will.”
    “They keep telling me that.” He eyed me. “Tia will be out in a sec. She’s looking for some stuff she lost on the band bus.”
    “Uh-oh,” I managed to say calmly, my voice gravelly. “What’d she lose this time?”
    “Her phone, one of her drumsticks, one of her shoes, and her bra.”
    “Her bra ?” I repeated. “You might have had something to do with her losing her bra.”
    “She said it was uncomfortable on the long drive. I was helping.”
    A shadow fell over us as the lights overhead were blocked. We both looked up to see Sawyer standing in front of us, his gloved hands on his padded hips. The white pelican suit glowed like it was some mutant creature born of a nuclear accident in a B movie.
    “Why are you in costume again?” Will asked.
    Sawyer reached out and swatted Will to one side.
    Will slid off the bumper and nearly fell. “Hey!” he yelled.
    Sawyer settled next to me, then scooted back into the truck to give his padded butt more room. He put his arm around my waist where Will’s had been. With his other hand he turned my chin so I had to look at him. His white-gloved thumb erased the tracks of tears on one of my cheekbones, then the other.
    I didn’t want to admit how touched I was by this gesture. “You’re getting mascara on your glove,” I said.
    He held his glove up in front of his foam head, appearing to look at it. He wiped it on my bare knee.
    Out in the field of instrument cases, Will and Tia were talking. He must have told her I was upset. She ran toward me, hurdling rows of cases as she came. “What’s the matter?” she called when she was still surrounded by discarded drums.
    “Aidan told me he wanted to take a break,” I said shakily. Sawyer squeezed my shoulder.
    Tia reached us and stomped her foot. “What the fuck for? Was it because of the shit in student council today?”
    I sighed. “That probably had something to do with it, but he’s mad at me for other stuff too. I don’t meet his standards. He wants me to resign as vice president.”
    “Wait until I find him,” Tia said. “I’ll take every one of his standards and shove them up his— What? ” Exasperated, she turned to Will, who was poking her in the side.
    “That’s not helpful right now,” he said.
    “It’s helpful to me !” she exclaimed.
    “Come on.” He started to pull out the ramp attached to the underside of the truck where we were sitting, but Sawyer’s costume overflowed into its path. “Tia and I have to get into the truck. Scoot over, bird,” Will said, kicking Sawyer’s cushioned butt.
    Sawyer rose, pulling me up with him. But he didn’t let me go. The soft padding and feathers of his costume enveloped me. Rather than fighting him, I let him hug me.
    Will and Tia tromped up the ramp and maneuvered a huge xylophone on rollers onto it. Steadying the lower end, Will walked carefully backward. “Oh, wait,” Tia called, “I don’t have it. Oh, ack!” The xylophone slid down the last foot of the ramp, knocking Will in the gut. “Are you okay?” she called.
    “We didn’t really need that lower octave, anyway,” he groaned.
    Sawyer put his hands over my ears.
    Taking the hint, I inhaled deeply and shut my eyes, letting myself melt into his softness. I could still