CurrerBFighting: Affirmative. Sending swap request now.
I wanted to squeal with joy. This new sword was especially powerful in the hands of my character. To anyone else, it was pretty useless, but I’d be invincible. With a sideways glance at Gabriel, to be sure once again that he wasn’t paying attention to my screen, I went into the game and set in motion the weapons swap.
It would be in my virtual hands by tonight. Perfect timing.
“Miss Frye, do you have something to share with the rest of us?”
Crap! Panic shot through my chest as I looked up at Mr. Hart. He stared at me from the front of the room, one eyebrow artfully cocked, a wry smile on his face. Slowly, I became aware of the rest of the class watching me, also. My cheeks burned so hot, I was pretty sure I’d get a third degree burn. Shrinking down slightly in my chair, I smiled helplessly at him.
“Um...no?”
His eyebrow arched farther. With calm, steady steps, he walked toward me, the class roster still in his hands. He looked down at me with an almost pitying smile.
“You know the rules, Beth. Mess with your phone during class and get detention.”
The whole class tittered and there was the definite sound of Michael Corrigan laughing in glee. My lips parted in shock, all words leaving me. I’d never had detention. Not once. Which was kind of surprising, as even I could admit that I was a little overly sassy sometimes. But I’d prided myself on my clean record. And now, that was all gone.
What did kids do in detention? Sit in dingy rooms in the school basement and do prison-style tattoos on each other? It was the only image I could conjure up in my mind. That wasn’t me. I didn’t belong there.
“Coach, you can blame me,” Gabriel said suddenly, leaning over the desk toward our teacher. He frowned and his Adam’s apple bobbed with a swallow. “I asked her to email me her notes on the project so I wouldn’t look stupid when you called on us.”
Mr. Hart’s attention shot to Gabriel, along with everyone else in the room. I stared at the side of Gabriel’s face, wondering what exactly had possessed him to lie to the teacher for me. The rest of the class was probably in amazement that Gabriel could even talk at all, he was usually so quiet.
“Thank you for your honesty, Mr. Corrigan.” Mr. Hart held out his hand for my phone. I placed it delicately in his hand, wincing when he snapped it away. “If that’s the case, you can both serve detention with me after school today. I’ve got some fish tanks that need cleaning. Beth, you can get your phone back after that.”
Dread throbbed in the veins on my temples. Cleaning tanks was a better reality than prison tattoos and moldy basements, but today was the first battle. If Mr. Hart made us clean all of his fish tanks, we’d never get home in time to start. And if we didn’t win this battle, we were done. And so too were my dreams of being the first girl to dominate this tournament. I shot halfway out of my chair, holding my hand up to object.
“But, Mr. Hart—”
“No ‘buts’,” he shot back, placing my phone in the top drawer of his desk. “You knew the rules. There are no exceptions. Everyone knows that.”
Usually, that was a good thing with Mr. Hart. Even his star athletes had to abide by the same rules. But right now, it felt especially unfair. I’d never been in trouble before. Didn’t I at least get a written warning or something? It didn’t seem right that I had to get a black splotch on my record for one tiny little infraction. I was fighting a battle here. A battle for the ages. A battle for the sexes. Getting that weapon had been paramount to winning our first round. Couldn’t Mr. Hart sense the urgency in my voice?
“Sorry, I tried,” Gabriel muttered as Mr. Hart called on the next team to talk about their topic.
“Thanks.” I stole a glance at him and met his eyes. Honestly, it was kind of cool that he’d come to my rescue. I hadn’t expected it. “That was...decent. But now we were going to be cleaning fish tanks all night long.”
“At least you don’t have to worry about the tournament,” he grumbled, tightening his hands into fists on top of the desk. “The first round’s tonight. If I miss it, I’m screwed. I never should’ve opened my mouth.”
Bile filled my mouth. “Yeah, good thing I don’t have to worry about it,” I said grumpily, crossing my arms on the desk and cradling my chin. “I guess I should thank my lucky stars no one wanted to play with me because I’m a girl. Yep, I’m lucky.”
Yeah, I was probably redirecting my anger at the wrong person here, but I couldn’t help it. Gabriel’s lack of sensitivity was infuriating. I refused to meet his gaze as he looked over at me, practically burning a hole in the side of my face. My sour tone must’ve made my thoughts loud and clear. A few seconds passed, and then he shifted and redirected his attention back to the front.
He probably regretted standing up for me. No doubt, he’d probably expected me to swoon and fall at his feet like some damsel in distress. Not me. No, I was sinking into my sour mood like quicksand. It was most definitely a pity party, but I didn’t care. Serving detention on the first night of the tournament with my gaming partner was not my idea of killing it. If both of us didn’t make it to the game on time, we were toast.
And all my plans of world domination would go straight down the drain.
Chapter Nine
Now I understood Lexi’s complaint about the city bus.
Smelling like fish was the worst. The absolute worst. I was elbow deep in muck, my favorite Fortnight sweatshirt permanently scented with the aroma of fish poop, mold, and rotting fish food. It was a good thing I didn’t have a queasy stomach. I could hold back my disgust. Gabriel, on the other hand, wasn’t looking so good.
“Here, take this,” I said, handing him an empty bucket as he stood next to me, tackling the African Cichlid tank.
He nodded gratefully, setting it beside him without a word. His face had turned a slight shade of green and every once in a while, he’d make a retching sound in the back of his throat. It was almost comical to watch. If I hadn’t been so worried about getting to the first round of the tournament in time, I would’ve actually enjoyed seeing him scrape fish waste off the murky side of the empty tank. There was something about seeing a big, bad hockey star reduced to cleaning stinky tanks in detention. It humanized him. I was pretty sure Michael wouldn’t have been caught dead doing this.
And Michael definitely wouldn’t have tried to save me from detention.