Page 43 of Vicious Little Snakes

A smile grows over my face. She said, “always.” That means Caroline notices me too.

I nod. “If you were going to say awesome. Then yeah. I am always this awesome.”

Her grin doesn’t stay hidden, even though it tries.

The line begins to move, and we walk through the double doors, not speaking, but she breaks the silence, whispering, “It’s ridiculous they break up the girls and boys. As if girls can’t play lacrosse. It’s so antiquated.”

Antiquated? I remind myself to look it up to make sure it means what I think it does.

“I know. So dumb. But at least you don’t have to be outside in the heat.” I’m rambling, feeling the words all sticking in my throat. “It’s the worst, it makes your balls all—”

I catch myself, wrinkling my forehead. “I mean, it makes all the balls deflate. It ruins all the soccer balls. And the footballs.” I cringe on the inside. “All the balls.”

My eyes stare straight ahead because I’m mortified. Why am I like this? But she laughs, and it’s a melody. Sweet and pure. Making me do the same.

Mr. Green gives a sharp “Shhh,” and we both cover our mouths, unable to hold it in.

Her eyes meet mine as I look over, and she points to our teacher, rolling her eyes at him. I wipe my middle finger under my eye discreetly, keeping her amused, but it only serves to garner another shush.

We jerk our faces forward, trying harder not to laugh, but I wish I could look at her again. I like her, like really like her, which is weird because she’s been ordered off-limits. I don’t get it, though. The other day she was decent. Why would Donovan hate her so much?

The line slows as Mr. Green stops to speak with another teacher, so I seize the moment and brush Caroline’s hand to get her attention.

“Hey,” I whisper. “How come you helped us the other day? Because you and Van—I mean, you guys aren’t really friends. Right?”

Caroline stares at me for a moment as if she’s debating answering, then says, “She hates me. I don’t think about her.”

I don’t know what to say to that. So I shrug, saying, “Cool,” and look away, chewing on the inside of my cheek. I’ve never felt more out of my league in my life. Nobody is like Caroline. Not even Van.

A tap on my arm draws my eyes back to hers. “But to be clear, I wasn’t helping Grey. He can take care of himself.”

Oh.

“Okay, but why help me?” I question, noticing that she still has her finger on my arm.

“Because,” she huffs.

Heat rises in my cheeks as she notices her finger too and pulls it away. “Because what you did was brave. And bravery deserves defending. I read that somewhere once.”

She thinks I’m brave. My stomach flips, so I let something dumb fly out of my mouth to distract from the moment.

“So what? You’re like a slayer of dragons?”

Just let me die.I laugh—at myself because I’m so embarrassing, but also hoping that she’ll join in.

Caroline shakes her head. The line starts to move again, taking her in the opposite direction, so she looks over her shoulder.

“No, Liam. I am the dragon.”

My mouth is open, staring stupidly in her direction as she walks away. Now I finally get what my father meant—this girl shapes moments.

* * *

“All right, guys, go get water.”

The heat is beating down on me. I officially hate October. The lacrosse coach claps his hands together, ushering us off the field, expecting us to jog, but I wipe my sweaty forehead walking toward the water fountains thinking the same thought I’ve had in my mind the whole time—Caroline Whitmore.

Boy after boy lines up, anxious for their chance to drown themselves in the fountain, but I’m still in no hurry. Bloody-nose Paul is in front of me, waiting for his turn, and I roll my eyes at his back. He pivots, looking at me, but I cut him off.