"I noticed you haven't given me some encouraging pep talk."
It was Monday morning, and lack of sleep was making me cranky. Of course, the only person I had to blame for the last two sleepless nights was myself, but that was beside the point.
Leaning against the locker beside mine, Courtney snorted. "Well, what would you like me to say? Of course Tyson believes you were helping me clear out my gutters this weekend. He wouldn't think twice about the fact you tend to have a meltdown attempting anything higher than a flight of stairs, or that I, of all people, wouldn't be caught dead touching slimy, rotting foliage and desiccated bird shit. Hey, maybe he thinks Drew and his nanna came over and helped. She's in late seventies, arthritic, and just had a hip replacement, but I'm sure Tyson has complete faith she could clear out a few gutters."
Slamming my locker shut, I thumped my head against it and whimpered. "Oh, my God. You're right. This is a disaster of epic proportions."
"At least he hasn't called you on your bullshit," she pointed out, inspecting the emerald green polish on her fingernails. In a bid to calm me down on Saturday night, she'd given us both manicures; my own nails were currently a deep plum.
"Yet," I muttered, dread twisting my stomach into knots.
Tyson hadn't contacted me at all yesterday. I'd sent him a text around midday, just checking in, but hadn't heard back. It was probably an omen of things to come. With that in mind, I thumped my head against my locker again.
"There you are!"
Annnd in response to Ashleigh's pronouncement, another thump.
She came up on my other side, her citrus and floral perfume wafting about her like a pleasant smelling cloud. "I just had an emergency squad meeting at six-thirty this morning because apparently none of these girls rate sleep as a necessity of life, and now, even after four cups of coffee I am so ready for a nap – why are you banging your head on your locker?"
"I'm going to hell," I moaned.
"She's going to hell," Courtney chirped at the same time.
"And you're trying to get there faster by smashing your own head in?" Ash queried with a frown.
Sighing, I turned so my back was pressed against my locker. "You were saying something about a nap?"
"What? Oh, right." Ash rolled her eyes. "So, we're in full crisis mode. I was only half listening – my first cup of coffee ran out ten minutes in. But there's a local magazine wanting to publish an article on our squad. Small time, but any publicity is good publicity. Anyway, their sole photographer went and took the fast way down a flight of stairs; broke her hand in three places. So she's out, and we're left with two options: run the article without pictures, or take our own."
Courtney grimaced. "We live in a digital age where a picture really is worth its weight in gold. There'd be no point in a print only article; who'd even bother reading it?"
"Exactly." Ash tugged at her braid, worrying the end between her fingers. "And, I'm still not sure how this happened, but I was given the crucial task of finding us a replacement photographer who can give up a few lunchtimes this week and possibly a few afternoons so we can meet the Friday deadline. For free, I might add, considering every cent of our budget is accounted for. I was reminded several times that our cheerleader's lives depend on this."
"Still happy you quit competitive gymnastics to truly embrace the high school experience?" Courtney asked with a smirk.
Ash made a face at her. "Today, I'm not so sure."
I started to offer to pay for a professional photographer; it seemed like a quick fix for a small problem, when I caught sight of Tyson heading towards us. My heart galloped in my chest as panic seized me, but I could do nothing else because his bright blue gaze clashed with mine, and something like determination was written on his face.
Oh, shit. This was it. He was about to accuse me of being a liar, and a dismal one at that. I'd have no choice but to come clean and tell him everything –
"I'll do it," I blurted, fully aware I was using this opportunity as a stall tactic. I wasn't proud of it, but it was a necessary evil I was willing to employ.
"What?" Ash and Courts simultaneously. Ash sounded cautiously hopeful; Courtney was eyeballing me like I'd gone off the deep end.
"Sign me up," I said, plastering what I hoped was a sincere smile across my face. "I mean, I'm no expert, but I have the time and I'll do it for free."
Squealing in delight, Ash pounced on me with a hug so fierce it cut off my air supply. A choked breath escaped me, but I wrapped my arms around her and patted her on the back.
"You're the best!" she declared just as Tyson had come up on us. I saw Courtney glance distractedly at him, and then promptly do a double take. She then proceeded to blink at him like an owl with her mouth hanging open, at least until I stuck my foot out and kicked her in the shin.
Courts staggered sideways with a yelp and crashed into him. "Jesus, that hurt –"
She broke off to offer Tyson an apologetic look; he'd grabbed hold of her to keep her upright, and she was balanced on one foot trying to inspect her bruised shin.
"Cramp," she mumbled with a weak smile, right before she shot me a glare. "Little fucker came out of nowhere."
Oblivious, Ash retreated to hold me at arm's length. "The girls were hoping we could start today at lunch, if you're not busy –"
"Perfect!" I may or may not have shouted my reply, and still holding Courtney upright, Tyson gave me an odd look.
"What's perfect?" he asked.
"Your girlfriend," Ash told him, positively beaming. "She's absolutely perfect."
"At least someone thinks so," Courtney muttered, taking a step that was more of a hobble.
"Noah volunteered to take some photos of the cheerleading squad," Ash said, linking her arm with mine. "So, today lunchtime and after school, does that work for you?"
"Absolutely," I said, and out of the corner of my eye, I could see Tyson frown at me. "Should I meet you in the gym?"
The morning bell rang overhead, and people began reluctantly moving towards their home room classes. Giving me an affirmative, Ash squeezed me one last time and bounded off to hers. Likewise, Courtney made a vague comment about needing something she couldn't live without from her locker and bolted.
That left me alone.
In a rapidly deserting hallway.
With my boyfriend.
"Hey," he murmured, closing the distance between us.
"Hiheyhello," I managed, internally cringing as it came out in one garbled word.
Tyson paused about a foot away, brow furrowing as he raked me with a critical once over. His hand came up, fingers brushing my cheek while his thumb swept gently beneath my eye. He was no doubt tracing the bags I was harbouring beneath them.
"Are you... How are you?" he asked, and I hated myself for the concern he was radiating, because it was concern I'd put there.
"Fine, peachy keen, just dandy," I said, and nearly slapped a hand to my forehead.
This whole babbling thing whenever I was nervous was a serious character flaw I needed to conquer if I was going to convince him of anything.
"Really," he said, the disbelief in his tone proving my point. "There's nothing you want to talk about?"
My eyes widened a fraction. I hoped I looked innocent; hell, I'd happily take constipated. "Uh, nope."
"Nothing," he pressed, almost like he was willing the words to come tumbling out of my mouth. "Nothing at all."
"Nothing I can think of. Why?"
My heart was beating so fast I was convinced it was about to call it quits on me altogether. I was even beginning to sweat beneath my arms.
He opened his mouth but nothing came out. I bit down hard on my lower lip, because if I said one more word I would not stop until I'd said them all.
Clearing his throat, he tried again. "I don't know. Sunday –"
"That bell means school has started," came a loud voice just behind me.
I jumped and spun, my cheeks burning like I'd been caught doing more than just talking to my boyfriend. Of course, it had to be Tyson's Chemistry teacher, Mr. Matthews, who'd come across us. He was walking toward us, a leather satchel slung across his shoulder, a laptop tucked beneath one arm, and a travel mug in his other hand.
"If I wasn't running late myself, I'd write you both up." He slowed to peg Tyson with a knowing look. "As delighted as I am that you've taken my advice to put yourself out there a little and make some friends, I'm not going to advocate for you if someone gives you a detention because you're now too busy being friendly to get your ass to class."
Tyson made a noise of exasperation and rolled his eyes at his teacher. "How is it you always find me when I least want to be found?"
"Because I live to be a thorn in your side," Mr. Matthews said with mock sweetness. "Now hustle, people, before I really do write you up."
Sighing, Tyson threaded his fingers through mine and tugged me down the hall with him, even as I sputtered an apology at his teacher. Truth be told, Mr. Matthews would never know how grateful I was that he'd helped me put off an inevitable confrontation.
Luck stayed with me throughout the rest of the day. Classes kept us busy enough that Tyson and I didn't have a spare moment to chat about anything of substance, and then Courtney and I were following Ash to the gym at lunch, where I would meet the rest of the cheerleading squad and Courtney would be an enthusiastic spectator.
Now, while our football team couldn't win a game to save their lives, and our basketball team wasn't much better, the girls had been State Champions three years running. They were led by Priya Laghari, a senior who, like Ash, had been on the squad since her freshman year. She'd been voted captain uncontested; some of the girls had wanted to nominate Ash for the role, but she'd vehemently declined, not wanting the added responsibility.
"I'm one of those people who likes having a social life," she'd said when I found this out.
Entering the school's gymnasium, we trailed Ash over to the far side where the group of girls had gathered on the bleachers. Half of them were cramming food into their mouths, wolfing it down like they were used to eating on the go. I was starting to see where Ash's speedy eating habit came from. The other half were trying valiantly not to fall asleep; emergency cheer meetings obviously took their toll. I noticed one person in particular was missing.
"Where's the coach?"
"This isn't an official practice. Coach Johnson doesn't need to be here." The answer came by way of Priya, who stomped down four steps of the bleachers to land in front of me.
Taller than me by a few inches, Priya was an Indian girl with flawless brown skin and midnight black hair. She had four piercings in each ear, a ruby stud in her nose, and a belly ring proudly displayed thanks to her cropped top. Brown eyes raked over me in an assessing look.
"This is our photographer?" she asked dubiously. "What makes you qualified?"
I was about to inform her of my latest achievement – I now had a whopping ten followers on my Instagram, when Courts cut across me.
"What makes her qualified is she volunteered to give up her time for free," my best friend snapped. Then she leaned in and whispered into my ear, "Nobody wants to know you got your tenth follower on social media last night."
I snorted, elbowing her in the ribs.
Ash sighed in exasperation. "Remember, Priya, we talked about this. Your expectations are up here." She brought her hand up to above head height. "And they need to be here." She dropped her hand and tapped the floor with her foot. "We're officially beggars, and Noah here is our salvation."
"So, I believe the words you're looking for are thank you," Courtney added with a scowl.
Priya stared at me for a moment longer, then heaved a sigh and turned to face her squad. I assumed that was her version of gratitude, because she got right down to business.
"Right. Lunch isn't long enough to change in and out of uniform, but that doesn't mean we're going to waste any time. You," she said, pointing at me. I raised my eyebrows at her superior tone but stayed quiet. "Start off with some group shots, and then we'll move onto a few of our basic stunts – a cupie, split-lift, and a shoulder stand."
I had no idea what any of those were. My understanding of all things cheerleading began and ended with pompoms.
"Well?" Priya demanded when the girls erupted in a flurry of movement, stowing half eaten lunches and shedding jackets. "Where's your camera?"
I started to dig in my pocket for my phone, but Ash piped up with, "I've got it."
She dug in her bag and unearthed a Nikon, and while I could read the little label on it and thus identify what it was, that didn't mean I knew how to operate it.
"Um –"
"It's fine," Ash said, pressing it into my hands. It had to weigh a good couple of pounds. "I'm friends with Anthony on the yearbook committee. He let me borrow it, and he's configured it so all you have to do is turn it on, point, and click. Easy."
She gave me an encouraging smile and walked off to drop her gear on a bleacher, shedding layers until she was in nothing but a pair of yoga pants and a sports bra. I frowned at the camera, turning it over in my hands. Just point and click. Well, there was one tiny problem with that.
"Where's the on button?" I whispered to Courtney.
She cackled. "I knew this was going to be entertaining."
I was about to punch her when she took pity on me and turned the camera on. "Okay, Steve McCurry, go get 'em."
I gave her a blank look. "What?"
"Steve McCurry," she repeated, this time with emphasis. Yep, didn't help at all. "Afghan Girl? National Geographic? He – you know what, never mind. Just go take some pictures and try not to break anything."
Fifteen minutes later I could say with utmost certainty I did not have a bright future as a photographer. While I managed to get some decent shots, it was more a result of my propensity to take a hundred pictures in one go than any real talent; the law of averages guaranteed at least one of those hundred had to be a keeper. The group shots had taken longer than anticipated; I'd had to move the squad to different areas of the gym to improve lighting, and then Priya had wasted time getting everyone in height order, only to have two thirds of the girls kneel or sit. It didn't help there were thirty of them, most of whom had selective hearing and more sass than they knew what to do with. It was like herding cats.
"Hold it, Sai!" Priya was barking at a freshman.
We'd moved onto basic stunts now, and the girls were executing something called a cupie. Three girls formed a base with a fourth girl, freshman Sai, held above their heads, her feet anchored in their outstretched arms. Beside them the same thing was happening again, only Ash was at the top of that pile, and unlike poor Sai, she was having no trouble keeping a straight line.
Courtney leaned over my shoulder to see me rapidly clicking away, taking picture after picture.
"Wow, you're really capturing that wobble with every shot," she said with a chuckle.
"It's not my fault she can't keep still," I muttered.
"Sai!" Priya shouted, which wasn't helping at all.
"I'm sorry," the girl started to say, but her leg shifted, offsetting everyone's balance, and it all went to shit in the blink of an eye.
There was a flurry of movement and an eruption of noise. Sai flailed and hit Ash. The girls forming both bases were screaming at Sai. Ash tried to recover but she was falling backwards. Sai's knees buckled and she went down, but was caught by her fellow cheerleaders, even if it was a clumsy catch. Ash wasn't so lucky; one of her base girls was knocked by Sai's group. The remaining two tried to compensate but were unsuccessful. Ash slipped through their outstretched arms to land back first on the mats with a resounding thud.
"Holy shit," I cried, tossing the camera and running forward. I pushed past the girls to fall to my knees beside Ash's head. Courtney landed on her other side, eyes wide as saucers.
Ash's mouth was opening and closing like she was a fish out of water, and her eyes filled with tears. The weirdest part was, she was trying to smile.
"Are you laughing or dying? Blink twice for yes."
Ash blinked twice, still gasping and smiling, and it was then I realised the flaw in my question.
"Right. I'm an idiot. Do you need CPR? Because I'm in no way qualified, but I think Ms. Evans in the library took a first aid course in the sixties." Granted, she was so ancient her dentures would probably fall out if she attempted to resuscitate someone, but at least she knew how to. All I could do was wave my hand like a pathetic fan in front of Ash's face. So I did. It generated no breeze at all and seemed to agitate her.
"...fine," she finally managed to croak out, swiping at my hand.
She coughed and gasped, and this time I heard the blessed sound of air being sucked into lungs.
"Oh, thank you," I got out on a relieved breath. "Thank you, thank you, thank you."
Then I whacked her. "You just scared the shit out of me!"
Of all things, she began to laugh. It was more a wheeze than anything, but she definitely found her near death experience amusing.
On her other side, Courtney smirked and said, "And just think, you could have been training for the Olympics instead."
Ash snorted, and we helped her into a sitting position. "Last time I trained for the Olympics I tore my ACL. I'd take being a little winded over that any day. Happens more often than you think."
Priya grudgingly called it quits, but reminded the girls they would resume again after school in full cheer uniform. She handed me the camera, and it was only then I registered I'd thrown it over my shoulder in my panic. By some miracle it wasn't damaged, and the few hundred pictures I'd taken were still there.
Ash waved us off when Courtney and I suggested she visit the school nurse, insisting she was fine and had been through much worse. I wanted to badger her some more but the bell rang signalling end of lunch, and I had to run to make my next class if I didn't want to be late. In the end it didn't matter; rather than work, I occupied myself by scrolling through the photos I'd just taken and deleting the ones that were excessively blurry or where I'd accidentally cut off people's heads.
By the time World History rolled around last period, I'd nearly forgotten I was avoiding Tyson. I claimed my seat in the back corner a few minutes early, my focus on the Nikon in my hands. I learned I was right – I'd taken 475 pictures, and so far deleted nearly three hundred of them. I probably needed to come up with a better strategy, or I'd find myself wading through thousands of useless images trying to find the few gems.
"How's your little project going?"
I nearly seized at the sound of Tyson's smooth, deep voice, and fumbled the camera when he dropped into the seat beside me. Leaving it where it landed on my desk, I jerked upright in my seat, and I knew by the way he frowned at me he'd noticed the sudden tension lining my body.
"What – oh, good," I said, smiling so hard my cheeks hurt. "Great. I discovered cheerleaders are very resilient – Ash fell six and a half feet, landing flat on her back, then got up and walked it off."
My statement momentarily distracted him. "Wow. Is she okay?"
"She laughed at me when I offered to call her an ambulance and we took bets on whether or not she would bruise."
"And you're doing it again after school?" he asked, rooting around in his school bag.
I gave him an apologetic look. "Yeah. Sorry, I know we usually work on our assignment in the afternoons. But it's only for a couple of days." After which, I was hoping everything would be back to normal. "We can try for Wednesday though."
Grimacing, Tyson retrieved a chicken wrap and a chocolate cupcake from his bag and slid them in front of me. At my surprised look, he said, "I figured you didn't eat. And Wednesday's no good, I won't be here – why do you look like you're about to cry?"
Because you're the best thing in my life right now and you deserve so much better.
Not that I could tell him that. I sniffed, trying to smother the urge I had to burst into tears at his simple thoughtfulness.
I forced a carefree laugh. "Because I'm so hungry my stomach is trying to eat itself. Seriously, thank you."
Tyson didn't look convinced. He started to say something, but I leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to his mouth. I started to pull back but he cupped the back of my head and stole my breath when he slipped his tongue past my lips. I knew I shouldn't have, but I couldn't help myself. I kissed him back, my tongue sliding across his, my lips slanted so perfectly across his. He tasted like cherries and something that was uniquely Tyson, and I was filled with disappointment when he broke the seal of our mouths with one final lick of his tongue.
"Talk to me," he murmured, his thumb tracing my lower lip. "Something's up with you. I just don't know what."
I opened my mouth – to say what, I had no idea. I couldn't bring myself to tell him another lie, and I couldn't tell him the truth. What the hell did that leave.
"I –"
There was a bang as the classroom door shut, and we both jolted in our seats. Miss Clarke had swept into the room and was ready to begin the lesson. Neither of us missed the pointed glance she shot in our direction coupled with the snickers of a few students, freaking Janie included. Tyson drew back with what seemed like great reluctance. I, meanwhile, was having heart palpitations. Not from that scorching kiss, but from yet another perfectly timed save.
"Human Origins and the Neolithic Revolution," Miss Clarke declared, rounding her desk and tapping a carton full of textbooks. "I hope you're all as excited as I am to delve into this topic. I thought we could begin by reading the introduction to A Brief History of Humankind. Janie, if you could pass these out, please."
Janie shot up like a jack in the box, ever eager to please a member of the faculty. I dutifully read the intro, but couldn't have summarised it if my life depended on it. I was too busy side-eyeing Tyson, wondering what he was thinking, and praying Eliza Wong sent me those timesheets today so I could finish my investigation and have Malcolm fire Jonathan Davis. So far, I hadn't received any new emails; I'd give Eliza until five PM and then fire off a query.
"You said something about Wednesday earlier," I said to Tyson when we were finally free to go. I shoved the textbook into my bag, careful not to squish the food he'd bought me.
He grunted an affirmative, rising to stand. "Work training and certification. Three hours after my shift today, tomorrow, and Wednesday. There's no way I'm finishing at 4AM and then making it to school, so I'll be out tomorrow, Wednesday and Thursday trying to catch up on sleep. Most of my teachers have already given me this week's notes."
I frowned at the idea of Tyson working his regular shift and then having to stay an extra three hours on top of it. That many hours would be rough on anyone, least of all a high school student who had grades to keep up. "You can't do it on a Saturday, or have someone cover your shift so you can do it without having to stay so late?"
He shrugged. "Wasn't given the opportunity, just told when it would be."
I fumed as we headed for the door. "That is such bullshit. Do they know you're in school? Because they should be a hell of a lot more accommodating if that's the case. It's bad enough you have to work so many hours – were you offered a modified shift at any point, because I could have it –"
I broke off on a choked noise when I realised I'd been about to volunteer to do something about his shitty hours and his ridiculously scheduled work training.
Tyson was regarding me with an inscrutable expression, bright blue eyes narrowed. "You could have it what?"
"What? No, nothing," I said, and saw that Ash was waiting for me just outside the classroom. I pointed at her, like maybe he was blind and could miss our preppy blonde friend. "There's Ash, so I better go."
He reached for me. "Noah –"
I shied away from his touch and his hand froze mid-reach. I stared at him in shock, unable to believe I'd just flinched from him. He was regarding me with grim resignation, and his hand curled into a fist before he dropped it to his side.
"That wasn't – I wasn't – it's not –"
"It's fine," he said, gaze fixed somewhere over my shoulder. "You should get going. We can talk later."
Without waiting for a reply, he stalked off down the hall towards the main exit.
Ash waited until he'd turned the corner before she approached. She'd seen our entire little exchange, and she gave me a sympathetic look. "Everything okay?"
I made a helpless gesture and had to swallow around the lump forming in my throat. My chest hurt thanks to a sharp ache that had sprung up out of nowhere. "I don't know what the hell I'm doing anymore, apart from making it all worse."
Even though she had no idea what I was talking about, Ash put a comforting arm around my shoulder and steered us in the direction of the gym. "I have every faith that it will all work itself out. And if you ever want to talk about anything, you know I'm here."
The second photoshoot went a lot better than the first. For one, Coach Johnson was present and while she was strict, she didn't scream at the girls like Priya tended to. Around my height with a compact build, Coach Johnson appeared to be in her early twenties with skin the colour of mocha and her hair pulled back into tight cornbraids.
She didn't waste time trying to orchestrate elaborately staged photos, but rather ran a normal practice and told me to flit about and click away to my heart's content. This worked out better, and I was able to get a wider variety of shots and capture more of the essence that was competitive cheerleading. I still had no talent to speak of, but I did feel like I'd graduated from taking a hundred pictures in one go to roughly seventy-five, which was progress. I even managed to sneak in my chicken wrap and cupcake when everyone paused for a water break.
Tuesday passed in much the same way as Monday. I skipped lunch again to work with the squad, and showed up to their afternoon practice, though by then I had close to a thousand pictures so I only took a handful more. Eliza was still working on the timesheets I needed; payroll was short staffed, but if nobody got back to her, she would march down there and access the information herself. The delay had anxiety and panic blooming in my chest. I hadn't heard from Tyson at all, but then I'd also been too much of a chicken to send him a message. I consoled myself by promising to talk to him on Friday; surely this supervisor crap couldn't drag out for that long.
By Wednesday lunchtime, I wasn't so confident. I'd emailed Malcolm as requested, detailing what Tyson had told me. The only thing I'd left out of it was Tyson's name; Malcolm had tried to insist, and after a lot of back and forth had grudgingly compromised that my complainant could remain anonymous, for now. I'd also kept him updated on everything I'd found during my hunt for information, and informed him of my next steps which included chatting with the two employees who'd filed complaints and getting to the bottom of the pay issue, if there was one.
I mentioned the high employee turnover rate but didn't go into much detail; Courtney had called our quitters back but none of them had been interested in making a written statement about their experiences of racial discrimination and harassment at the hands of Jonathan Davis. The consensus was they'd all moved on with their lives and had no desire to rehash the past.
Likewise, one of Jonathan Davis's three previous employers had responded to my email requesting information on his employment there. It had been yet another dead end; no red flags, no complaints filed against him, no misconduct of any kind. The other two had yet to respond, and something told me not to hold my breath.
I thought Malcolm might have been impressed with my fledgeling detective skills; so far the only limit he'd given me was that I couldn't fire anyone, period. In keeping with the proper chain of command and company protocol, Human Resources had to be consulted before any dismissal was issued, and for anyone in a management or supervisory role, an HR rep had to be present. I was assuming it had something to do with getting back ID cards, keys, company phones, and anything else that might pose a threat to the company's safety.
He must have also picked up on my sense of urgency regarding the matter, because he reminded me things like this took time and were very rarely so black-and-white, open-and-close. I knew he meant it to be reassuring, was basically telling me not to worry. If only he knew I'd given myself an unrealistic deadline and why.
Groaning in frustration, I hit refresh on my laptop once more, and like the five times I'd done so in the last five minutes, I was rewarded with my inbox flashing 0 new messages at me. I was sitting in the school's media room going over the final selections I'd made for the cheerleading squad's photographs.
It had been tedious sifting through them all, but at the end of it I'd created two files of photos: those for submission to the magazine, and those that were unique and quirky that I thought the girls would get a kick out of. There was one in there of Priya's look of horror when Ash had been about to plummet to the ground, another of their human pyramid collapsing mid build even as the bases tried in vain to hold everyone up. I'd even managed to get a beautiful shot of one of the girls tossing a morsel of food into the air for the freshman girl Sai to catch in her mouth, laughing. Maybe it was just me, but I thought that while capturing feats of perfection was great, it was these genuine snapshots of tried and true friendships that deserved to be cherished the most.
"Oh, wow, these turned out fantastic!"
I nearly hit the roof at the sound of Ash's voice right by my ear. As it was, I had a full body spasm; my elbow hit my laptop and would have sent it crashing to the ground if I hadn't lunged for it with a screech like a wounded pterodactyl. Saving it in the nick of time, I dragged it towards me even as I gave her an incredulous look.
"Jesus, would you make some noise on approach?"
Snickering, she took the seat beside me. A chicken sandwich, an apple, and a bottle of water hit the desk in front of me. "You're welcome."
"Thanks," I said, wondering if we were even allowed to eat in the school's media room. Not that Ash would ever let anything come between her and food. She unearthed her own sandwich – make that three of them – and a container of baby carrots, and immediately began wolfing down her lunch.
"Did you send them to the magazine for approval yet?" she asked around a mouthful of chicken salad and bread. She nodded at the open file of pictures I had up.
I scrubbed a hand down my face, then cracked my sandwich open to pick at the crusts. "I was just about to."
"I ran into Priya at the cafeteria. She was demanding she get the final say in what pics are used, but Courtney shut her down and said if she doesn't like your choices, she can always sacrifice her spot in the limelight and take them herself," Ash said with an evil little chuckle.
"That girl is incredibly high strung," I observed.
She shrugged. "Strict parents. Priya's the eldest, and they expect her to go to college and become a doctor. She called this her last year of freedom."
"You think she'd be a little bit freer, then, instead of trying to crawl up everyone's asses," I muttered.
Ash guffawed, and went back to demolishing her third and final sandwich. I was just about to take a bite of my own when a chime interrupted me. I dropped it into its container, dragging my laptop towards me.
1 new message blinked at me from my inbox.
And it was from Eliza. True to her word, she'd gone down to payroll and gotten what I needed. I nearly squealed, I was so happy. Finally, the breakthrough I needed. At least, I hoped it was. Now I just needed to get down to the factory to review security footage.