She did the same thing every time she glanced back: rolled her pencil three times up and down her desk, picked it up and tapped it on her lips like she was thinking about something, maybe trying to remember something. Then the hesitation, the fake bag search, and a glance in my direction. I was ready this time, not pretending I didn’t see her.

Our gazes locked.

Bay’s head snapped forward.

I rolled back through my memory to figure out what it was about me that made her so jumpy.

She’d started at our school when she moved to town a few years ago and kept to herself. The girl who’d been beside her at her locker was the only person I’d seen her talking to outside of classes.

Why’d she move to my shitty end of town last year?

“There will be a group project before your exam.”

Groans rumbled through the room. No one wanted to be stuck with a group project because Mrs. Franklin didn’t feel like grading twenty-five assignments. In every group, there was always someone who didn’t give a fuck and another someone who treated each word like it was the difference between life and death.

As seniors who’d all received our college acceptances—or at least already sent them all in and were waiting on last minute financial aid packages—this was one more annoyance before our summer of freedom began. Two months left.

The bell rang and Bay shot out of her seat like she’d been attached to a set of jumper cables. I didn’t miss her quick glance back at me before she disappeared through the doorway.

I gathered my crap and stopped at my locker to swap out my books.

“One month until Bedlam.” Knox threw his full weight into my back, shoving his hands down on my shoulders.

I grunted and threw him off. “What makes you think any of us need a reminder?” A massive banner stretched across the hallway with tear-off numbers. A big number six had been meticulously painted in navy with a gold outline. People here treated off-season scrimmages like most people treated championship games.

“Has that been here the whole time?” Knox slung his bag over his shoulder and scratched his head.

“Only since post-season began.” I tugged the folder and book from last period from my backpack.

“Shit, seriously?”

My laugh rumbled deep in my chest. Knox had many talents, but his keen observation skills weren’t on that list.

“What’s the deal with next year?”

The flimsy metal of my locker groaned and creaked as I shoved some books crammed in there aside and got out what I needed. Everyone was under the impression that I’d signed on with someone. “One more recruiter’s coming. Trying to see if they’ll sweeten the deal.” My gut knotted.

“Damn, they’re taking their fucking time, aren’t they?”

“I’ve got to keep everyone on their toes.” I slammed my locker shut.

“I can’t believe you’re not coming to Alabama with me.” There was as close to a pout as possible in his voice.