Free Full Ride by Margaret Peterson Haddix Page A

“Besides, what’s there to explain?”
    Rosa smirks at me.
    â€œStuart’s in Ms. Darien’s third-period class,” she says. “I bet if you said, ‘Stuart Collins was acting like a jerk and made me miss lunch,’ she would totally get it.”
    I shrug to let Rosa know I don’t need to do that. And I don’t need to talk about this anymore. But Rosa continues leaning toward me.
    â€œJust a warning,” she says, lowering her voice conspiratorially. “The trending topic in DHS gossip is that you and Stuart secretly dated over the summer, but your relationship couldn’t take the strain of being back at school. So that’s why you were screaming at each other at lunch.”
    I must have a completely blank look on my face, because she adds, “People think you were breaking up.”
    I jerk back, away from Rosa.
    â€œWho would think that?” I ask. I make a face. “Me and Stuart ? Why would anyone date him ?”
    I decide not to let Rosa answer that one. I have a tiny suspicion that, for all her complaints about Stuart, Rosa might actually have a crush on him herself.
    â€œBesides,” I say, “nobody ever gossips about me. Who cares?”
    I am a nonentity as far as the DHS gossip machine is concerned. I’ve worked very hard to try to stay that way.
    â€œIt’s a slow news day,” Rosa says. “And after three years of the Shannon Daily crowd holding center stage, that whole scene’s getting a little boring. You’re fresh meat.”
    Lovely, I think.
    I buy myself some time by pulling a blank sheet of paper out of my lit folder, carefully centering it on my desk, getting ready for Ms. Darien to start class. I look back at Rosa.
    â€œYou can fix this, can’t you?” I ask. “Can’t you send out some texts, tell people nothing happened, it’s all a bunch of lies?”
    Rosa looks around, so I do too. We’re surrounded. Someone is sitting in every seat nearby, and Josie Wu, Tamela Evans, and Dustin Dubowski are standing at the very edge of my desk. Rosa leans in so close she can whisper in my ear.
    â€œWhich is better?” she asks. “To let people believe the lies or have them know the truth?”
    I freeze.
    She knows she knows she knows she knows she . . .
    I close my eyes. I clench my teeth.
    â€œPlease,” I whisper. “Please don’t. . . .”
    But Rosa is still talking.
    â€œDon’t you know I’m poor too?” she whispers. “Don’t you think I understand?”
    Poor? I think.
    I pull back from Rosa so I can stare her right in the face. Probably my eyes are burning with all those unshed tears from the bathroom, and my face is flushed with the shame of what I thought Rosa was going to reveal.
    But her eyes are burning too.
    She tugs on my arm, pulling me close again to whisper some more.
    â€œPeople like Stuart don’t know what it’s like,” she says. “He complains all the time about not having enough money, but really . . . Remember how his family took that vacation to Aruba last spring break? Remember—”
    â€œRosa,” I say, twisting away, trying to break her grip on my arm. “I don’t care how much money Stuart Collins has.”
    She doesn’t let go. She is unrelenting. She is acting like this is a problem that God himself has ordained that Rosa Alvarez must solve. Like it’s AP calc or something.
    â€œFor college, it doesn’t matter, ” Rosa hisses into my ear. “My sister said, when it comes to financial aid, it’s actually better to be flat broke. They see you can’t pay a dime, they don’t expect you to. So don’t worry about it.”
    Rosa thinks this is all about money. She thinks I’m ashamed. She thinks I would rather have people think I secretly dated Stuart Collins than know I can’t afford college.
    She thinks that is all I