Free Every Last Promise by Kristin Halbrook Page B

expressions, I know, are mirror images of annoyance.
    The story of Jen’s life.
    But Jen recovers in the blink of an eye.
    â€œI guess game’s over,” she announces with a forced laugh. “We win!”
    Her team jumps into a big shrieking pile while the rest of us stand around, wishing this was a more fair game. Maria and the rest of my team are all pissed but not at me, at least. They don’t say anything to me. While they plan to go for after-game pizza, I walk back to my bike to head home.
    But the bike isn’t where I left it.
    A girl about six or seven years old playing on the ground notices I’m looking for something and points to the Dumpsters before going back to her dirt castle. My rear tire sticks out the top of the huge metal bin. I sigh.
    â€œI don’t know why you played.” Noah Michaelson comes up behind me, holding out an old T-shirt.
    I take it and wipe my face slowly. I don’t owe him an explanation.
    He shrugs. “I’ll help you get your bike out. Actually . . . want a ride home?”
    I drop his shirt back in his outstretched hand and nod.

SPRING
    MY EGG SALAD SANDWICH had fallen apart in my backpack before I made it to our table in the cafeteria on Monday.
    Jen squeezed her eyes together and stuck her tongue out as I peeled the plastic baggie from its squished contents with a frown. “If you ate normal sandwiches,” she said, “you wouldn’t have that problem.”
    I watched her nonchalantly until she took a huge bite of her peanut butter and jelly, then said, “Sorry, what? Didn’t hear you.”
    â€œI thaid . . .” Her tongue caught on the glob of bread stuck to the roof of her mouth and she grabbed her water bottle, washing her food down in between laughs. “You suck.”
    â€œYou love me.” My shoulders shaking, I got up to grab a spork.
    As I searched for a utensil near the bottom of the pile, a finger tapped me on the shoulder.
    â€œHey, Kayla.” Steven McInnis looked over my head instead of at me. He could do that. He was the tallest boy in the school. The thickest, too, probably. The best offensive lineman on the football team. He protected Jay from everything. “You have Olson for physics, right?”
    â€œYeah.”
    He pulled an orange plastic lunch tray from the middle of the stack, knocking the top two on the floor. As he bent to pick them up, he said, “I know this is last-minute, but do you think I could get your help with the test this week?”
    â€œI’m not taking it.” I grabbed a small pile of napkins from the dispenser. Steven’s eyes flickered back and forth and his fingers drummed on the tray. “I have an A so I get to drop the last test. A policy that made Olson my new favorite teacher this year.”
    â€œYeah, she’s cool. But I have to take it.” He moved into the lunch line, herding me along with him.
    I glanced over at my table. Selena was telling a story and using big hand gestures. Her hand gesture stories were always good. I was getting impatient.
    But Steven pushed on. “Do you still think you could help me pass this test? Please? You have an A and I have to pass it to—”
    â€œDude.” Jay Brewster caught up with us. Steven adjusted his angle so I could slip out from between him and the lunch counter as Jay slapped Steven’s shoulder. “We have already been over this. No one’s going to fail you. I’ll make sure of it.”
    Steven stared at the cafeteria worker as she piled noodles on his plate, paused to glance up at him, then piled somemore. “I know, man, but like I said before, I actually want to learn this stuff.”
    â€œYou had all semester to learn it,” Jay said. “Should have done it then. I don’t need my guys coming up for ineligibility.”
    â€œI should have.” Steven slammed his plate on his tray and scooted down to grab two chocolate milks. “But I