“When I climb onto a bronc, I don’t want any one-trick pony. No challenge—no fun. The best ones always keep you guessing. Which way will they buck? Will they twist-and-shimmy or use the same old moves?”

“What am I, a horse?”

“Not exactly.” He laughs. “But you know what horses do when they don’t want that rider on their back, right?”

“Ah.” The light bulb goes on.

“Shake it off.”

16

Evasive Action

Two days later, Operation See Dawn Run is officially launched.

Ale and Devontae meet me outside school as soon as my dad pulls away. Instead of following the crowd through the front door, where Dawn waits for me beside the office, we cut through the parking lot to the doors by the cafeteria that stay locked in the morning. Ale knocks twice, and Tina pushes the door open from inside. Markus and Zeke are with her.

“At your service, Lady Emmie,” Zeke jokes as I pop over the threshold into the deserted hallway. “For all your mischief and mayhem needs.”

Devontae catches my eye and winks. “Ready for action?”

My friends form a loose huddle with me hidden at the center, and we weave into the crowded main hallway. Our plan works—Dawn has no idea I’ve ditched her, and my crew drops Tina and me off at homeroom, promising to be back at the bell. I hustle to my desk, avoiding Tina’s eyes so we don’t start laughing.

Dawn slips in two minutes after the bell, looking confused.

“Did I miss you?” she whispers as she brings a chair over and sits.

I shrug, eyes wide. “Got here same time as usual—didn’t see you.”

Three seats away, Tina has a sudden coughing fit.

Five minutes before the end of class, I casually pack up my things.

I also slide Dawn’s phone from her open purse onto the floor.

When the bell screams, I bolt for the door while Dawn’s still gathering her purse and jacket. Tina stays right behind me, and she’s somehow spread the word, because a clear path to the door magically opens for me. Our friends are waiting. They close around me again, and we race away. I’m settled at my second-period desk by the time Dawn comes puffing in. This time she looks a little annoyed but still doesn’t say anything. Near the end of class, she realizes her phone’s gone, so she panics and goes to check homeroom. The bell rings again, and I’m out of there before she reappears.

We keep it up all day. At lunch, the six of us can barely keep a straight face. Dawn, who’s managed to find her phone, is typing furiously on it in the corner of the cafeteria. I can tell she still isn’t exactly sure if this is all coincidence or on purpose, but she’s not quite her usual syrup-sweet self.

We do it again the next day. After dismissal, Mr. Milling asks me to hold up a second before I leave his class.