The clock ticked on, perpetually at quarter to 3. My feet tapped the floor impatiently and my hands fiddled with my backpack’s zipper in perfect coordination.
“Uhhh… Mr. Mopel? May I use the bathroom?” I whispered, taking full advantage of my seat next to the teacher’s podium.
He nodded, not quavering in his lecture on the importance of elementary math skills. I couldn’t conceal the excited grin, as I tossed my backpack over my shoulders and slipped out of the classroom. Invigorated by freedom, I practically ran to the history hall, arriving in perfect synchronization with the final bell. Students flooded out of rooms. The entire hall erupted in loud talking and cheers for the end of the day. I rolled my weight to my toes, and scanned the crowd for Matt.
“Delia! What are you doing?” Someone asked. A hurried look proved that it was Chelsea again.
“Where’s Matt?” I questioned, still craning my neck to see above the seniors.
“Why…?”
He sauntered out of the classroom right in front of me, surrounded by an army of football players.
“Matt!” He pushed on through the corridor, oblivious to my beckoning. I groaned, and ran until I had rounded to the front of the gang. Walking backwards, I tried to catch his attention again. “Hey, Matt!” His attention was diverted. He raised his eyebrows at me, mocking me without words. “Do you have a C average?” I blurted out, hoping to get this encounter over.
“What?” He asked, perplexed. His pace quickened, forcing mine to speed up as well.
“You have to have a C average to be on a sports team. Do you have a C average?” I repeated, focusing on his greenish eyes, like a good interviewer.
“Why do you care?” He snapped, nastiness replacing the former confusion.
“I need to write an article for the paper.” His eyes twisted in anger. “And I thought it would be sort of like, inspirational, to understand how everyone’s role model kept his grades up.” Lying was probably not in the criteria for a good interview, but this was information I desperately needed.
“Go away, stalker,” He pushed past me, followed by his jostling crew of friends. I emitted a defeated sigh, and let myself slide to a stationary stop on the wall.
“You have gotta be kidding me,” Chelsea said, as she wandered towards me, “You’re seriously going to write an article on Matt the Quarterback’s grades? Isn’t that like an invasion of privacy or something?”
“Not if he tells me,” I responded belligerently.
“He’s not going to tell you.”
“Watch me.” I stood up, and began walking towards the main doors.
The sun beat down on my bare neck, forcing uncomfortable warmth through my body. A textbook was splayed in front of me, resting between my elbows. My eyes flashed back and forth between the rules of commas to the sea of egotistical boys running and stretching on the football field.
“Would you go away?” Matt shouted from across the field, where he was still eyeing me warily.
“Not until you tell me!” I countered. Chelsea groaned next to me.
“How long are we going to stay here?”
“As long as it takes. Otherwise we’ll just come back. tomorr..” I stopped abruptly, abandoning my train of thought. “Shhh” I commanded with a finger to my lips. Girl’s voices wafted over on the gentle autumn breeze, clearly upset.
“You can’t tell us what to do, Jenny!”
“We’re on this team too!”
“Really!”
Abandoning my English book, I snuck over to the cyclone fence, hoping to look inconspicuous. The cheerleading squad was spread out across the adjacent soccer field, rallying against the captain, Jenny.
“Article,” I mouthed to Chelsea, still struggling to make sense of the predicament.
“Delia! You just spent most of an hour stalking the football team for a story! Make up your mind!” she hissed in annoyance. I bit my lip in frustration. Why couldn’t the cheerleading squad have a mutiny after I unlock the secrets of Matt’s grades?
“Matt might take a while to crack, so I’ll cover this story, and work on Matt at the same time. I’ll be able to turn something in at least.” I planned slowly.
Chelsea looked up towards the field posts. “Whatever, I’ve got to go home.” She grabbed her bag and started marching towards the gates of the football field, leaving me to eavesdrop in solitude.
