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“I wish,” I said. “No, the coach makes those decisions.” Even though I didn’t know much about the inner workings of football, I knew this was true from soccer. “But if the whole team is against him, maybe he’ll quit or at the very least be completely miserable. And that will make me happy right here.” I pointed to my heart.

“He’ll be so embarrassed when the whole team hates him,” Max said with a giddy look of anticipation.

The first bell rang.

“Yes, I agree with your party idea,” Deja said. “Make that happen.” The guys nodded as well, and since our classes were in different directions, like every morning, we went our separate ways.

As I walked across the parking lot, I must have been in my head, not paying attention, because a car squealed to a stop inches from my leg. I met Jensen’s eyes through the windshield. One hand had flown up out of instinct and was now resting on the hood of his car. My other hand was on my chest in surprise.

He threw his car into park, right there in the middle of the lane, and jumped out. “Are you okay? Did I hit you?”

I took several deep breaths and straightened up, assessing. Had he? My heart was racing, but my body felt intact. Untouched. “No, you didn’t. I’m fine.”

Relief poured down his face. “Sorry, babe. I mean Finley. I didn’t see you.”

“Youdoknow how to say that word,” I said. My backpack felt tight on my shoulders, and I wondered if I was sucking in too much air. Again, I tried to slow my breathing.

“What?” he asked. Someone laid on their horn behind him. He looked back, and his face went dark. I wasn’t sure why. To me, he said, “Sorry?Is that what you’re saying? That I should apologize for the podcast thing?”

“For saying I was terrible to the whole school? For stealing my idea? Yes!”

“I don’t think that’s what you’re really mad about. You’re really mad about me earning your spot. The other stuff doesn’t matter toyou.”

Anger coursed through my veins. How dare he tell me what I wasreallyangry about. And how dare he be so wrong. The car behind him, a black BMW with tinted windows, backed up and parked.

“All of it matters, Jensen,” I said.

“Well, I’m sorry,” he said in a quiet voice.

If I thought those words would help at all, I was mistaken, they didn’t.

Theo exited from the BMW and on his walk past us said, “Move your scrap metal, Second String—it’s in everyone’s way.”

Jensen shot him a look but didn’t reply. A week ago, Theo’s dig at Jensen’s place on the football team would’ve made me mad. Today, not so much.

Jensen’s eyes were back on me and he said, “I should…”

“Go,” I said. “I don’t want to talk to you.”

His shoulders rose, then fell. “Once you’re done being angry, can we just—” He took a step forward, attempting to brush myarm.

I stepped back before his hand connected. “Never. I will never be done.”

He sighed, climbed into his car, and, since I was now out of the way, continued down the lane. I whirled around. Ahead, I saw Theo. I increased my speed, not to catch up with him, but because I was going to be late. We stepped onto the curb from the parking lot at the same time. His soapy vanilla scent invaded my space.

He gave me a sideways glance. “You get back together with your boyfriend?”

I gasped. “After what he did? Never.”

“Didn’t you say what he did was no big deal?”

“I lied because you were annoying me.”

He let out a surprised laugh.

I pushed ahead but then hesitated, slowing until he was by my side again. “You’re not throwing a party this weekend, are you?”

“This weekend? As in tomorrow?”