When I trot past, riding Minerva, I discover that Mr. Serious is back. He avoids my eyes and tips his hat. “Good morning, Savannah.”
“Good morning, sir.”
Thank the heavens he didn’t bring up last night’s almost kiss.
I drop Minerva off with a hot-walker then retrieve Star from Greenbriar. He flicks his ears forward and approaches me but doesn’t get too close. He’s starting to respect my space.
“Good boy.” I take his lead and direct him out onto the track. He seems happy and carefree today. We trot around the track two times and then head over to the clocker’s tower.
“I’m ready,” I tell Gael so he can time me, and Star and I take off. I feel like I’m riding a ballistic missile. “Woooo!” I maintain perfect control, so it’s a great run. When I’m finished, Gael and Jack are clapping, and Mr. Goodwin has joined them. He whistles and claps too.
“Time?” I call out to Gael.
“1:41,” he replies. “It’s not complete shit.”
“It was brilliant!” Jack shouts. Mr. Goodwin gives his son a weird look.
I wave to Jack, dismount, and whisper to Star that he did a wonderful job. But the second I pass Star off to a hot-walker, the horse starts whinnying and slapping his tail around. Instead of going to get Echoes of Summer, I rush back over to Star, relieve the hot-walker, and cool the horse down myself. Star nickers and nips at my face as we walk in circles over and over.
I only have five days to get this horse ready to race.
What’s wrong with him? Why does he only respond to me?
After work on Monday morning, Rory drives me to my new school, and on the way, I dig into his new screenplay.
“But this doesn’t make any sense,” I say, waving the script. “Your character just met the girl two minutes ago. Why would she sleep with him?”
“True love. She saw him and just had to have him.”
“Girls don’t sleep with guys two minutes after meeting them.”
“But it’s like, every guy’s dream!” Keeping one hand on the wheel, Rory taps his other hand on the paper. “That’s why this script will sell. Men will love it.”
“Well, I wouldn’t pay for a movie ticket to this. You need to edit.”
“I’m so glad I met you. Nobody else wants to read my screenplays.”
“I’m sorry no one wants to read your porn,” I tease.
“Hey, now. It’s high-brow porn.”
My heart starts thumping hard the moment we pull into the parking lot, where Rory says the seniors park in the back corner. I peer out the truck window at a sunken area of concrete filled with water, weeds, and mud.
“Why is there a lake in the middle of the parking lot?”
“Because the school spends all its money on the football team.”
Rory adds that everyone calls this area of the parking lot The Swamp, and for some unknown reason it’s cool to park there.
I hop down out of the truck, and Rory links my arm in his as we walk past a group of smokers and then the skaters. He helps me check in at the office and points out the cafeteria and the bathroom, but then abandons me at my homeroom because he absolutely has to meet up with the drama teacher. He swears this will be the year the teacher finally agrees to produce his original play, Call Me When Your Mom Is Back in Town.
After homeroom, in which I talk to absolutely nobody, I navigate through the crowded hallway. My first class of the day is Crucial Life Lessons, a required course for seniors, where we’ll learn, you guessed it, “Crucial Life Lessons.” Is that stuff like how to balance our bank accounts, warnings not to sign up for credit cards, and the difference between 87 and 93 octane gas?
I enter the classroom and grab a seat toward the back. The name Coach Lynn is scrawled across the whiteboard. Vanessa Green comes in, takes the seat right in front of me, and turns around.
“I had fun Saturday night,” she says. “I think I have a sparkler addiction now.”
“I had fun too—”
Jack Goodwin appears in the doorway.
“Oh shit,” I mumble.
He sees me and swaggers past girls trying to speak to him and lazily drops into the desk next to mine, props his foot on his thigh, and shakes his cowboy boot. I guess he isn’t allowed to wear a cowboy hat in school; his hair curls around his collar.
“You did fantastic this morning,” Jack says, leaning toward me and smiling that lopsided smile. “I know Star’ll do well this weekend at Keeneland. I know it.”
“Thank you.” I smile, bowing my head a little.
“So you and Whitfield, huh?” He drapes his arms across the desks in front of and behind him. Vanessa swivels slightly, listening in.
“What?” I reply.
“I saw you walking in the parking lot with him,” Jack replies.
“So?”
“So I’m wondering if you guys got a thing going on.”
“Naw. He’s too tall. He’d break his neck trying to kiss me.”
Vanessa laughs.
Jack gazes into my eyes and my pulse thumps harder and harder. Is he gonna bring up the almost kiss?
“So he’s just a friend?” Jack asks.
“Right.”
That’s when Rory enters the classroom and grabs the seat right in front of Jack.
“Hey, Ror,” I say. “Jack thought that we’re dating.”
Rory screws up his face. “The other night after the party? S fell asleep on the drive home. Her snoring is terrible. She’s like a troll or something.”
“Hey!” I say.
“A troll, huh?” Jack whispers to me. “I thought you were a Shortcake.”
I feel my face flaming pinker than Strawberry Shortcake her damned self. I swivel around and concentrate on Vanessa’s straight blond hair.
As Coach Lynn begins to take roll, Jack leans across the aisle toward me.
“I wish this class taught us real life lessons,” he whispers.
I open my notebook and uncap my pen, pretending to get ready to take notes, which is ridiculous because I hate taking notes. “What kind of lessons?”
“Like how to woo women. Or how to get over a really bad hangover.”
“Aren’t you already an expert in both of those areas?” I whisper back.
“Yeah. It would be an easy A, you know?”
I roll my eyes, but can’t help but smile.
Coach Lynn announces that we have to write a two-page paper about where we see ourselves in five years, and everybody starts groaning.
“Where will you be in five years? Still in college? Grad school? In the military? Married? Kids? Working at the car factory?” The teacher looks at me and says, “Will you be working on a farm? Each of you will be required to write a two-page paper.”
“Two pages?” Rory whines.
“Oh, just write that you want to be a gynecologist,” Vanessa mutters.
Rory bursts out laughing at that, and Vanessa smiles back at him. He holds Vanessa’s gaze for a second longer then faces the whiteboard.
Jack slips his pen behind his ear and leans across the aisle toward me again. “I hope this class has a lesson on how to decide if you want a tattoo or not.”
“Ha!” I laugh, blushing.
“Do you have a tattoo?” he murmurs.
“Maybe…If you tell my dad, I’ll kill you.”
He holds his hands up. “Your secret is safe…as long as you tell me what this tattoo is and where it’s located.” His eyes move from my chest to my butt to my stomach.
“You’re getting colder,” I whisper when he starts eyeing my ankles.
“What is it? A butterfly or a heart or something?”
“You’re getting even colder.”
“Is it a dragon?”
“Brr. You’re really cold.”
He grins. “Dammit, tell me where your tattoo is!”
“What?” Rory blurts, turning around, looking me up and down. “You have a tattoo?”