Football players are assholes. I know; I'm related to their king. My older, and annoyingly overprotective, brother Jake is the star quarterback at Santa Cruz High School. I love him but hate living in his shadow. Everyone worshiping the air he breat...
The unusual softness in his voice lifted my gaze. Past the concrete strips and outdoor lockers, the school was filled with busybodies. Friends greeted each other with smiles and laughs. They shared summer experiences, schedules, and complaints about teachers.
Attention focused on Jake. Awe, respect, and... ugh, desire, flashed in the eyes we passed. All of the looks and whispers were directed at him. Everyone worshiped the ground under his Sasquatch feet. No one would lay a finger on me without a busted lip or black eye. Violence was never the answer, but I swayed closer to the comfort of Jake's hulking form.
"Thanks," I whispered and lifted my chin.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Nothing like getting called to the principal's office on my first day. From my seat in the front, I whipped my head up to the voice. "Miss Harrison." A pair of gray eyes stared at me through bifocal glasses, which she pushed up her nose and pointed to the hall. "Principal Jans will see you."
"Thanks, Miss. Erickson," I mumbled and walked where she directed.
Principal Jans sat behind the desk. Unlike the corners of his eyes, his full gray suit had no wrinkles. The small room's white walls and lack of windows added more stuffiness to the recirculated, oppressive air. Harper had been here for indiscretions with boys, but this was my first time.
Why was I hauled out of AP English? With one stern look from Principal Jans' gray eyes, I squirmed in my shoes. "Ms. Harrison, please sit." He waved at two worn leather chairs that faced his desk.
I sat down, wiped my hands on my thighs, then folded them.
"Now." He rested his elbows on his desk and threaded his fingers. "I bet you're wondering why you're here."
Why was that the go-to lead-in question? Before I answered, a familiar female voice followed a knock on the door. "Principal Jans?"
The corners of my mouth pulled down at Ms. Summers' 'So, you're going nowhere in life' college planning session. She handed Principle Jans a piece of paper and returned to her cat box.
"I've reviewed your application for the student ambassadorship program." Principal Jans got right to the point, which I appreciated, and shoved the paper at me.
I held the informal acceptance letter with trembling fingers. His seat creaked with his lean back. "Congratulations, you're our only applicant."
What!? "Oh." My voice flattened to paper as I lifted my eyes to him. Curiosity burned through me. Fifteen hundred seniors went here! What did those fourteen hundred ninety-nine know that I didn't? Should I be concerned or excited?
Principal Jans grinned. "Originally, it was two volunteer events per student commitment, but we're hoping that your tremendous school spirit will extend to participate in all of them."
"All of them?" I echoed the words in a squeak. My tongue felt coated in sawdust. "How many events are there?"
"Six," was his casual reply. "Spread out, one event every one to two weeks."
