Free Private 06 - Legacy by Kate Brian Page B

soccer team strolled by with their food.

    "Hi, Reed," one of them said. "Congratulations on the Billings presidency." "Totally. Congrats," the other echoed. "I love your sweater, by the way." "Thanks," I said, completely caught off guard. I'd never spoken to either of these girls before. Didn't even know their names. How had they heard about the Billings vote? "Listen, my dad works for the New England Revolution and he can get us on the sidelines when they play the Galaxy next spring. We're totally going to meet Becks. Wanna come?" the first girl babbled. I blinked. That was a lot of information. And a seriously sick offer--meeting all those pro players. "Um, who could turn down a sideline pass?" I said. "What's your name again?" The girl blushed, but gamely answered, "I'm Ava Greene. And this is Demetria Wallace." "Thanks, Ava," I said. "That's very cool of you."
    "I'm just so glad you're in!" Ava replied. "Well, see you at practice!" They strode off together, their heads bent close as they gabbed. "Yeah. See ya," I replied to thin air. Okay. That was bizarre. But I guess being president of Billings came with perks I hadn't even thought of.

    I glanced over at Josh as I reached for my bagel, wondering if he'd noticed. He chewed mechanically on a doughnut, staring straight ahead and looking morose. I felt a pang of both sorrow and irritation in my chest. I loved that he cared. I really did. But I was starting to wonder if there was such a thing as caring too much

    * * *

    "Did you know that George Washington didn't want to be president?" Sabine asked me that night. She turned around in her desk chair, all excited, the seashell bangles she always wore clicking together. American history was her antidrug. She was learning it for the first time, coming from a foreign land and all, and each new fact got her all starry-eyed--like the rest of Billings got whenever they heard Stella McCartney was coming out with a new line or that Jake Gyllenhaal was shirtless in some new magazine. It was kind of cool, actually, seeing someone get all fizzy about stuff I'd known since grade school.

    I placed my pencil down on my calculus notebook and flexed my aching fingers. Apparently I'd been gripping the thing too hard. A callus was starting to form on the inside of my middle finger. "Yeah, I do remember that," I said. "He didn't think he was worthy or something, right?" "Kind of like you," Sabine teased I looked down at my pencil-dented fingers. "I think I'm worthy," I lied. "Just that Noelle is more worthy," she said perceptively. My cheeks reddened. "Yeah, well, she's just... Noelle. You'd get it if you knew her." Sabine's face fell and she quickly turned back to her work. "Well, I don't."

    And thanks for reminding me, her tone said. But how was I supposed to explain it? How was I supposed to convey what it had been like for me last fall? I could hardly define it myself. I had worshipped Noelle. Hated her. Loved her. Feared her. Needed her. There was no way to quantify Noelle's... Noelle-ness. It was something you had to experience for yourself.

    "Sabine, I--" A knock at our door cut me off. We both looked at it, perplexed. No one ever knocked. They just barreled right in, usually with some hair crisis or vital gossip already spewing forth before the door had even slammed shut. "Come in?" I said tentatively. Noelle opened the door and stepped back to allow a distinguished-looking middle-aged woman to step inside. She was wearing a gorgeously cut power suit and a thick gold necklace, and had perfect blond highlights that even Ariana would have died for. In her hands was a large, silver-wrapped gift with a thick, silky red bow. Her smile was warm and genuine, but something about the way she carried herself was all business. Even though she was tiny, her presence somehow filled up the room. I stood up, feeling instinctively that it was the right thing to do. "Ladies, so sorry to interrupt your study session, "the woman said, with