Free Delicate by Stephanie Campbell Page A

questioning is unending, but I told her everything. Or, as much as I could without blushing. Or mentioning Grant. 
    She and I are so engrossed in our conversation, we don’t notice Mr. Brody standing right next to our desks. My face flushes as I wonder   how much of our conversation he had heard, but Quinn just leans back in her chair casually and reaches up to pull her long brown hair back into a ponytail, as if she’s clueless as to why he’s standing here.
    He sets a small, pink slip of paper on each of our desks and walks away with a grunt. Quinn rolls her eyes. Detention doesn’t faze her, but to me, it’s a different story. I have to go tell Sam that I have to miss another workout with Nationals around the corner.
    When the bell rings, I tell Quinn to leave without me so that I can talk with Mr. Brody. I plaster on my best guilty face.
    “Yes, Miss. Pierce?” he says curtly without looking up from his stack of papers. He’s balding badly, but he tries to conceal that fact by parting his existing patch of hair in ways which it w as never meant to be parted.
    “I, um…” I stutter. I’ve never been in trouble at school before, so I don’t know how to do this. “I’m so sorry for disrupting class, sir.”
    “And?” he says, briefly glancing up from his grading.
    “And, I have gymnastics every day after school. I really can’t miss. Is there a way that I could do, like, an extra assignment or something rather than detention?”
    “No,” he says categorically.
    “Oh.” My heart sinks.
    “What I will do is schedule it for later in the week so that you can give adequate notice to whomever it is that you report to,” he says.
    I guess I could plan on working out extra this week to make up for what I’d miss later on. He hands me a new detention slip for Friday afternoon.
    “Thank you,” I say.
     
    “So, did you get out of it?” Trevor asks sympathetically as I sit down at our lunch table. Quinn must have already spread the good word.
    “No, he did reschedule it for Friday, though. I’m just going to have to work out extra this week to make up for what I’ll miss,” I sulk.
    Trevor’s mouth contorts into a grimace. I can feel the disappointment even before he speaks. Quinn and Tess must have clued into the sudden mood chan g e, because they simultaneously get up to throw their lunch trays away.
    “Friday?” he asks.
    “Yes. I’m sorry, I know you wanted to do something that night, and we will. It’ll just have to be after gym. And detention.” I explain.
    “You’re right. It’s no big deal. Can I take you out tonight, then?”
    “I think that can be arranged,” I say, leaning in to him.
    Right now, life can’t get much better.
    Detention aside, that is.
     

Confessional
     
    I hit record and sit on the edge of the overstuffed chair.
    “I have to make this a quick bit tonight, because I have a date!” I affix my best smile, though I’m cringing inside at having to reveal this part of my life. I tug nervously on the simple black linen maxi dress. “I’m not sure where my boyfriend and I are going, it’s going to be a surprise, I think.” I really forgot to ask, and I hope I’m dressed okay. “I don’t know if he’ll be up for it, but I will try to get Trevor to come in and say hi to you all afterward!” That’s a lie. I have to tell him over dinner that this will be our last solo date. He’ll likely go ballistic. I slip my gold flip flops back on and fix my lip gloss.

- Thirteen -
     
    Trevor and Dad are already talking sports, though I can’t decipher which one. I can tell you everything you ever want to know about gymnastics, but that’s my limit. I don’t even understand lacrosse , and I’ve been to countless games to support Trevor.
    “Are you ready?” I ask , stuffing my lip gloss and house key into my purse.
    Trevor turns to me with a broad smile. “Yep. Nice talking with you,” he says to Dad, shaking his hand.
    “Was good to see you . Y ou don’t