“Clarity, last week Hannah managed to recruit the entire field hockey team to help out with the festival committee! Because of her, we don’t have to shut down.”
Of course.I should be happy. However, the only reason this happened is because this summer happened. After Mrs. Rubio sent me the initial email about potentially having to disband, who did I turn to? Who did I whine to in the middle of the night when my thoughts were consumed with panic?
“That’s great,” I say, forcing myself to smile.If only I’d kept my big mouth shut.
“I think it’s fair that since Hannah recruited more than half of our new members that we give her the position of copresident. That way, you both can work together.”
All. Year. Long.
“Yay.” I try to sound happy, but it comes out half-hearted.
“I don’t want to step on any toes,” Hannah jumps in. “I mean, Clarity has been in this club way longer than I ever will be.”
Truth.
“Even so, it might help balance things if we have you in a leadership position since you know the new members well,” Mrs. Rubio counters, making complete sense… the same way Mrs. Patricia was making complete sense as she dug my grave just yesterday.
Mrs. Rubio looks at me, raising her eyebrows in hopes of backup.
Even though it’s the last thing I want to do, even though I’ve been working my butt off to bepresident(notice how there isn’t a “co” in there), I say, “It’s fine, Hannah. Thank you for saving festival committee.”
Without missing a beat Mrs. Rubio turns around and grabs two folders off her desk. She hands one to each of us, and I notice how Squash the Pumpkin is written in bright orange Sharpie, Mrs. Rubio’s neat cursive unmistakable.
“So, the first meeting is next Tuesday. If you can start coming up with ideas for decorations, venues, and a schedule, that would put us in good shape. We only have nine weeks!”
First bell rings, leaving me with no choice but to accept this reality if I want to make it to homeroom on time.
“Thanks, Mrs. Rubio,” we say on our way out of the classroom.
“Clarity, wait,” Hannah says, fighting to keep up with me as I push through the current of students in the hallway.
“I’m going to be late to homeroom,” I reply over my shoulder, making a point of not turning around all the way so that I don’t have to look at her face again.
“Clarity, we have to talk.”
“Rightnow?” I whirl around.
We’ve stopped in the middle of the hallway and students eye us as they move to avoid bumping into us. This is exactly what I didn’t want, drawing attention to Hannah and me together. I grab Hannah’s wrist and lead her to the corridor Kristen and I usually meet up in before homeroom.
When I turn to face her again, she’s smiling at me. A deep, sly smile, one that reaches her eyes and makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up.
“I wasn’t talking aboutthat. I was talking about festival committee,” she admits, as if it’s some inside joke.
Right.
I swallow the embarrassment creeping up my throat and close my eyes for a moment.
“I know this isn’t ideal,” she says, her voice soft. “It was supposed to be a surprise; save the club and create a way for us to hang out at school without drawing attention.”
“This isn’t—” I start to say.
But Hannah cuts me off. “You didn’t want festival committee saved?”
“I didn’t want us to be thrown together like this.”
“Since when—no, wait.” She shakes her head. “Don’t answer that. I already know,” she says, her tone turning cynical. “Because I’d bet that before all that stuff went down, this would’ve been great. Me being on festival committee factors into our plan perfectly.”
“Hannah, there is no plan.” The reminder of what we were supposed to be, how in an alternate universe this corridor meeting would be a secret moment for us to share before class, makes it hard to breathe. “I gotta go.”