Page 5 of TJ Powar Has Something to Prove
“Get with the program, Charles,” Nate says in his typical super-fast voice. “There’s a commemorative plaque in the front foyer declaring her God’s gift to Northridge. Didn’t you see it on your way in?”
Charlie arches his eyebrows. Even now, in casual conversation, he constantly sounds like he’s reciting a memorized speech. “Now that you mention it, I think I did. Wasn’t there also a statue?”
“A big towering one, of her holding a gigantic soccer ball like she’s Atlas. It was so accurate, right down to the nose stud. The proportions are weird, though, the head is massive—”
“Really? I thought that bit was particularly lifelike—”
“Do you guys need some Tylenol?” TJ interrupts. “It seems like you’reextremelysore losers.”
Simran sighs.
“Twenty bucks she practiced that one in front of the mirror last night,” Charlie says to Nate.
TJ glares. “You know, you can be disqualified for talking shit about your opponents.”
Nate wags a finger in her face. “The rules only say disqualification if you’re talking shitbeforethe debates, not after, myworthyopponent. And besides, did I not beat you out for topspot individually? Who’s the sore loser here again?”
TJ opens her mouth, but Simran, perhaps sensing danger, beats her to it. “We can atleastagree that was a good debate to end our last regional tournament. Right?”
Nate shuts his mouth, and Charlie delivers Simran a winning smile. They don’t mess with Simran as much. Maybe they think she’ll be tempted to shank them with her kirpan.
“I can’t argue with that,” Charlie says. “You coming to the meeting on Tuesday?”
Or maybe because they’re friends from being on the school district student council together. TJ rolls her eyes and turns to leave. She’d rather pull out each of her teeth individually than listen to this.
Charlie pauses mid-conversation to say, “Provincials, TJ. It’s going down.”
TJ scoffs. “I’m sure that’s what you’ll tell yourself tonight. While crying into your silk tie.”
He runs his fingers over the silk tie in question. “Thanks for noticing.”
Inexplicably, she finds herself growing warm. “I just like the thought of choking you with it.”
“Hmm. I like that thought, too.” He grins at her expression and turns back to his conversation.
She recovers, but too late. There she goes, giving him a reaction again. What a weirdo. But he owns it. So does Nate. They just don’t worry about what people will think.
And maybe that’s atinypart of the reason why she can’t stand them.
TWO
***
TJ’s post-win buzz lasts all through the weekend, but as usual, school arrives on Monday to slap her with reality. The homework assigned in her pre-calc class alone could be classified as a form of torture.
By the time she enters her last morning class, TJ’s dragging her feet. She sits and checks the clock. A whole seventy minutes until lunch. Winter Break may be at the end of the week, but it’s starting to feel like eons away.
While she’s checking the time again, a girl with brilliantly red, wavy hair drops her notebook on the desk next to her. Piper Anderson, host of Saturday’s movie night and one of TJ’s closest friends.
Piper sits gingerly. “My legs hurt.”
TJ grimaces. Yesterday, she, Piper, and the rest of their soccer team were subjected to their off-season fitness boot camp. “My everything hurts.”
Chandani Sharma slides into the desk behind them. “Tell me about it. Whoever invented the beep test should be in prison.” She leans back and lets her waist-length black hair fall from her ponytail only to tie it up again, studying them from under her lids. Her eyeshadow today is a subtly smoky maroon that matches her tie-neck top. “Did you two get slammed in your last class, or was that just me?”
“Mr. Oyedele assigned like four chapters,” Piper saysmournfully. “I swear last week we were still talking about mitochondria and tomorrow there’s a quiz on frog anatomy. Maybe Ms. Schwab will have mercy on us?”
Chandani’s sharp eyes shift behind them. “Might be our lucky day. Substitute teacher alert.”