Free Just a Matter of Time by Charity Tahmaseb Page A

that?
    Honestly, I didn’t care. All I wanted was to keep my 4.0 GPA intact and ace the SAT. No problem. Until recently.
    The next day, I stood at my locker, fingertips resting on the upper shelf, my gaze fixed on the dark inside. What had I wanted? To go to the library. Yes. But why?
    Someone brushed my shoulder as the bell rang—someone with spiky black hair, dark eyes, and an intense stare. A burst of something flowed through my body. I could breathe again. My mind cleared. Of course! I was going to spend lunch at the library and finish an extra credit report.
    Except. Gordon stood there, arms folded across his chest like he was guarding the way down the hall.
    “Excuse me?” I said.
    He stepped to one side. I grabbed a notebook and—before he could block the way again—raced up to the library.
    In the library, Maya Milansky was working on what was no doubt the same extra credit report for AP World History. I sat down three tables away. She glanced up from her paper long enough to throw me a sneer. I threw one back. It never reached its target. Gordon slid into the chair opposite mine and caught the full force of my snark.
    At least he blocked my view of Maya. Still. Back in ninth grade, I’d crushed hard on Gordon—one of those epic and deeply humiliating crushes. The kind that made you stalk his class schedule, so you could be at his locker when he was. The kind that had you biking past his house—multiple times. The kind where you confessed your entire heart to your best friend just to relieve a little of the pressure.
    That best friend might have been Maya Milansky. Gordon might have gone to the freshman dance with her. From then on out, I’d pretended that neither existed.
    Now I had no choice but to acknowledge at least one of them.
    “What are you doing?” I asked.
    Gordon shrugged. “Running interference.”
    World History was calling, so I said, “I don’t have time for this.” Whatever this was.
    “You’re right,” he replied, in an echo from last night. “You don’t.”
    I stared at him.
    “Where do you think she—” He swiveled in his chair, pointing at Maya. Her hair fell forward, hiding her face in a curtain of red. “—gets all the time?”
    Now it was my turn to shrug. Maya did everything I did—and then some—and managed to show up on time, too.
    He leaned forward, eyes fixed on mine. “You.”
    I felt that burst again, my mind clearing, my thoughts all at once my own. My hand reached for my notebook, but Gordon’s gaze transfixed me. My cheeks didn’t heat up. I wasn’t tongue-tied. But I couldn’t glance away, either.
    “Did you ever wonder where some people find the time and energy to do everything while everyone else desperately tries to keep up?” he asked.
    I nodded, slowly. For months now, the threads of my life had been hanging just out of my reach. No matter how hard I worked, I couldn’t capture them and weave them back together.
    “You know that saying, ‘time is money’?” he continued.
    “Yeah.”
    “And you know it’s possible to steal money, right?”
    “So?” I wasn’t exactly sure where Gordon’s train of thought was going, but I suspected the first stop was crazy-town.
    “If it’s possible to steal money. . . and time is money. . . come on, you’re on the honor roll. Do the math.”
    Right . Crazy-town. Either that, or this was some elaborate practical joke that Maya had cooked up. I pushed back my chair.
    “Really? You’re doing this? After last night?” So I missed the ceremony. Why rub it in? I clutched my notebook tight to my chest in a feeble attempt to stop the ache. “I used to think you were a better person than that.”
    I left the library without looking back.
     
    * * *
     
    “Sadie! Wait up!”
    Gordon’s voice chased me down the hall. My head felt heavy on my neck. My stomach growled. I could pick up something at the snack bar. An apple, maybe. Something to restore my blood sugar and stop the persistent throb in my