Free Before You by Amber Hart

looks away.
    â€œWhat are you thinking?” a lady with big hair asks me. According to her name badge, she is Mrs. Slyder, science teacher.
    I don’t answer.
    â€œThere is no fighting on school property. You just earned two days’ suspension. Are you aware of this school’s policy about suspension for fighting?”
    Is she aware that she just told me?
    â€œYour suspension will start immediately.”
    Like I care.
    â€œWho threw the first punch?” she asks.
    I wonder if Jason is man enough to admit that he did. Probably not.
    â€œI’ll take your silence as guilt,” she says.
    Of course she will. Whatever happened to innocent until proven guilty? More like guilty for the rest of my life, simply because of who I am.
    â€œAre you new here?” she huffs. “Why don’t I recognize you?”
    Because I don’t like to be seen.
    â€œWhat’s your name?”
    I still don’t answer, mostly because no matter what I say, I know they’ll believe a pretty boy over a troubled Latino.
    â€œNow would be the time to explain.”
    Silence.
    â€œAre you listening to me?” Mrs. Big Hair asks.
    Unfortunately.
    â€œTo the office,” says one of the teachers holding my arms.
    I’m bigger than the puny teachers trying to haul me away. I push all my weight down, making it difficult for them to move me, a boulder of stubbornness. I will go with them when I’m ready. I want to make sure Jason sees me before I’m escorted out.
    There. He looks at me. And in that moment, I plaster my face with the biggest smile I can muster and mouth the word, “look.” A silent whisper meant only for him. I eye Faith. She is throwing the bloody towel away.
    Jason looks at her.
    I look at her.
    Whatever punishment they decide to give me will be worth it.
    It’s all worth it because in the end, when her boyfriend is bleeding down his face and ten other people are trying to get her attention and the lunchroom is in a shambles because of the fight, Faith notices none of it. She’s not looking at any of them.
    Because she’s too busy staring at me.
    And Jason knows it.

13
faith
    M y legs burn as though they’ve caught fire. One, two, three, four hundred steps on the school track before dance practice. My breaths come deep and quick. Sweat glides down my back.
    When the whistle blows, I rest my hands on my knees until my heart slows its gallop.
    Coach tells us to gather together. When she was younger, she also danced for our school team. I’ve seen pictures: long auburn hair, muscular build, dark Persian skin. She looks the same, just a few added wrinkles.
    Melissa stands beside me, nudging my arm.
    â€œGood run,” she says.
    â€œThanks. You, too.”
    It’s all about endurance. The more you have, the better dancer you are.
    The music begins. The new routine, the one we’ll perform at our next competition, unfolds with only a few hiccups. Being on the varsity team means many of us have practiced together for years. It doesn’t take long to learn the new moves. The problem is perfecting them, making them ours. A twist at the end, a flip in the middle, attitude written all over our faces. It’s the little things that add the most character.
    â€œI don’t like it,” Tracy says, trying to veto my newest suggestion.
    Coach huffs. “When do you ever?”
    I bite back a smile. Our one-sided feud is long-standing. And everyone knows it.
    Tracy glares at me.
    â€œDo you have another suggestion?” Coach asks, trying to be fair.
    It’s a good thing Tracy is an incredible dancer, or we’d all have asked her to leave the squad by now.
    â€œOf course,” Tracy responds.
    I watch as she demonstrates what she thinks is better. Truth: it’s not bad.
    Coach eyes me. I shrug, not wanting to start a fight.
    â€œOkay,” Coach replies. “Anyone object?”
    Half the team raises their hands, which