Page 50 of TJ Powar Has Something to Prove

Mrs. Scott balks. “Oh my goodness, TJ. Simran said she would talk to you. I thought you agreed already!”

“Agreed to what? Simran dropped out?Why?” This doesn’t make sense. Although... shedoesremember Simran acting off the day after Provincials, when TJ asked when she was meeting with Charlie.

Charlie.Her stomach drops. No. No no no no. Teaming up withCharlie? Who she thought she’d never have to see again?

Her train of thought shuts down before she can entertain that nightmare. She hops off the chair. This has to be a mistake.

“I’m going to talk to Simran,” she hears herself say in an oddly high voice. “I’ll be right back.”

She doesn’t even wait for a response from Mrs. Scott. She just hurtles out of the classroom.

Despite the fact that they rarely interact during the school day, TJ knows exactly where Simran goes during lunch hour—either some club meeting, or the French teacher’s classroom, which is always open to people who want somewhere quiet to sit. TJ speed-walks there and bursts in. Rock music plays in the background. Ms. Schwab is on her computer, and a bunch of people have shoved desks together to play a card game. TJ scans further. Simran’s in the corner with the student council cashbox next to her. She’s riffling through bills, no doubt counting profits from the latest school fundraiser.

“Simran!” she basically yells, and Ms. Schwab looks up and says something rapidly in French.

All TJ understands iss’il vous plaît. “What?”

“She said keep your voice down, please,” Simran says evenly.

Never mind that. TJ’smadat her. “What’s this Mrs. Scott’s telling me about you dropping out of Nationals?” she hisses, coming up to her.

Simran’s eyes go wide and she sets the stack of money in the box. “Oh no.”

“So it’strue?” TJ’s voice teeters to new heights. “Are you serious?”

Simran swallows. “I was going to tell you soon, I promise. I didn’t think Mrs. Scott would bring it up so early. It’s only been a week—”

“Why?”

“I have something going on that week.”

“What could you possibly have going on?”

Simran gives her a flat look. “I got accepted into a weeklong music camp.”

“Music camp? What music?” TJ’s at a loss.

“Indian classical,” Simran replies. “You should know, seeing how you trip over my instruments every time you come over.”

Simran’s harmoniumisa damn menace. “But—what? Why now?”

“There’s a musician from Singapore visiting Vancouver. He’s offering a program while he’s there. I applied.”

Shit. TJ vaguely remembers her filling out an application months ago.

“I found out I got in on the way home from Provincials. It clashes with Nationals weekend. I was going to tell you when you came over that day, but...” She chews her lip. “I couldn’t.”

Of course. Because TJ spent the whole time ranting abouthim. If certain events hadn’t happened over Provincials weekend, TJ might even be okay with this. But certain eventsdidhappen. And now TJ is losing it.

“You could always give up the spot to Nate,” Simran suggests quietly. “Tell them you want to go to your soccer tournament instead.”

TJ glares. “Everyone in debate would know that’s bullshit. Couldn’t you have told mebeforeProvincials? That there was a chance this might happen?”

“What difference would it have made? I didn’t think I was going to get into this program. It was a long shot.”

“Thedifferencewould be that I wouldn’t have made out with Charlie fucking Rosencrantz!” She keeps her voice to a hiss, not wanting her words to carry to the table of cardplayers, all of whom have been sending them curious looks since TJ entered. “Now you’re basically leaving me high and dry—”

“I’m not leaving you—”