usually take the opportunity to flirtâthe girl is definitely his type, all big breasts and perfect teethâbut he notices that Carly is searching frantically in her backpack for something.
And Ardenâs hoping she doesnât find it. Then sheâll know itâs not the end of the world if your homework isnât turned in. Itâs just a grade. An expectation that others have of you. By not turning it in, youâre showing them that they canât control you. That youâre symbolically shunning their established set of rules and make your own.
But find it she does, and right in time. To Ardenâs surprise, Mr. Tucker, the mascot of impatience, waits for her to dig it out and unfold it for him. Even gives her a little smile.
Whatâs up with that? Surely my new accomplice isnât a teacherâs pet? Gross.
But it becomes apparent that she is. During class, she sits up straight. Takes notes, probably verbatim. Smiles when Mr. Tucker makes a stupid joke. She even gets up to sharpen her pencil and Mr. Tucker stops his lecture to let her do it .
How have I missed this before?
Of course, when the bell rings, sheâs the last one to pack up, because she has to organize everything just right in her binder.
Oh geez.
âCarly, wait up,â Arden calls. There are still a few students packing their things, and they exchange curious glances with each other. When Arden reaches Carly and offers to carry her backpack, Mr. Tucker gives him a disapproving frown.
âOh, crap,â he hisses to Carly. âIs Mr. Tucker your dad?â
She snickers. âUm. No.â
âThen why is he looking like Iâve just invited you to my backseat instead of offering to carry your bag?â
Carly scowls. âBecause even Mr. Tucker realizes for me and you,â she gestures between them for emphasis, âto be chitchatting is weird.â
Arden rolls his eyes. âYou care too much what people think.â
âI donât have the luxury of being careless.â
âWhatâs that supposed to mean?â
She shakes her head, as if conversing with him is a bother. âI can carry my own backpack. Thanks though.â With that she stalks out of the room and into the hallway traffic.
He has to run to catch up with her. Thatâs probably why people are looking at us, he thinks to himself. Theyâve never seen me try so hard. Everyone must see what Carly is doing is rejecting me, over and over.
And deep down, maybe he does care what everyone thinks. Maybe just a little.
But obviously not enough to stop him from chasing after her. He snatches the backpack from her shoulders, which halts her in her tracks. She turns around, fuming. âAre you serious?â
âI figured out why people are staring at us,â he says quickly. âItâs because Iâve never been rejected like this before.â This he keeps to a whisper. He hates himself for it too. That something like that would matter to him. I guess I havenât completely freed myself from the expectation of others.
She rolls her eyes. âYouâre really that full of yourself?â
âLook, I donât know how to talk to you, okay? Iâll just be direct. I want to give you a ride home today.â
âNo.â
âYes, dammit! All Iâm asking is to give you a ride home.â
âI have a bike.â
âWhich we both know fits in the back of my truck.â She crosses her arms, the makings of yet another rejection forming on her lips. He wipes a hand down his face, hoping to erase any frustration that might be showing there. âLook, if you agree to it, I swear I wonât talk to you for the rest of the day.â
It irritates Arden that this seems to appeal to her. âYou promise?â
Oh my God, who is this girl? âI promise, or pinky swear, or whatever it is you chicks do.â
âHow can people actually think youâre