CHAPTER SEVEN
STELLA
ISPENDthe next afternoon shooting photos around campus while Sybil finishes up her dance practice, and I’m surprised to see just how many extracurricular activities Loyola Academy has. Everything from fencing to cheer to swim is on offer, and even though my mother requested I choose at least two, I haven’t signed up for any yet.
“There’s still time,” Sybil tells me as she crash-lands into my camera view. “You could do swimming. That’s easy.”
“Not really a fan of the chlorine,” I admit.
“Hmm.” She does a triple cartwheel across the lawn and plops down gracefully in a cross-legged position. “What about cheer squad? You could come to practice with me next Wednesday.”
“Really?” I laugh. “You want me on the cheer team? I don’t exactly have the right look. Or the pep. Or the coordination.”
“Why not?” She scrunches up her nose and claps her hands theatrically. “Be aggressive. Be, be aggressive.”
“I wish I could bottle up some of your energy.” I roll my eyes.
“Come on,” she pleads. “What could it hurt to at least try out? We can work on some of the moves over the weekend. Just promise me you’ll think about it.”
My gaze drifts across the field to where the boys are playing lacrosse on the left and soccer on the right. Everybody is busy doing something. And I know from my mother’s incessant nagging that I need something else on my college application, even if it does seem somewhat ridiculous to me. But at least with Sybil at my side, it could be fun.
“I guess it wouldn’t hurt to try,” I concede.
“Yay!” She jumps up and does a few cartwheels while I continue to snap pictures. And then something in the distance catches my attention.
“What the…?” My voice drifts off as I inadvertently zoom in and snap a few photos.
“What?” Sybil asks.
“Is that Mr. Carter coaching the soccer team?”
“Yep.” She squints into the distance, using her hand as a shield against the sun. “He played soccer for the Ivy’s. Won a bunch of awards, or so I’ve heard. I think he was supposed to be drafted into the Major Leagues too.”
“Why wasn’t he?”
“Don’t know.” She shrugs. “But the soccer players here practically bow at his feet like he’s some kind of legend. I know because I dated one of them freshman year.”
“Who haven’t you dated here?” I tease.
She sticks out her tongue and throws a handful of grass at me. “Just wait and see. You’ll have five or six boyfriends soon too. I’ve heard you’re making waves around the school.”
“Yeah, Louisa and her girl gang already threatened me to stay away from Ethan.” I make a slitting action across my throat. “Or else.”
Sybil rolls her eyes. “Louisa is never going to get Ethan. She’s delusional.”
“Like he’s some prize.” I shake my head. “I don’t get what she sees in him anyway. He was waiting for me outside of detention.”
“Who knows.” Sybil agrees. “And that doesn’t surprise me. He’s had eyes on you since you stepped foot on the grounds. Every time you turn him down, he’ll just try harder.”
“Oh, yay.” I groan. “Just what I need.”
“Apart from Ethan’s prowess, how was detention anyway?” she asks.
“It was all right. I didn’t know it was with Mr. Carter.”
“Oops.” She slaps a hand against her forehead. “I should have probably warned you, huh? He always does detention. I think he actually enjoys it, miserable bastard that he is. I still can’t believe how harsh he was with you. I mean, he’s always been a prick, but still, he could have cut you some slack on your first day.”
“Doesn’t seem like that’s his style,” I observe, opting not to tell her about our weird stare down in detention.