“Yeah, not surprising.”

I’m not sticking around to get yelled at right now. When Jacobi realizes I’m not turning around, he says, “Need some company?”

“Might be best if you stay behind, explain my absence.”

“And let Coach blame me for not keeping you in the locker room? I’ll pass.”

He continues to walk with me, and I hate that I’m going to have to find a way to ditch my best friend.

“Look, Jacobi.” I stop and turn toward him, cutting off his path. “You’re second-string quarterback. One of us has to be here.”

His smile falters a little. “Sounds like whatever you’re leaving for is more than just a lockbox pickup.”

“I’ll be back. I just might need you to start for me.”

“Shy.” Jacobi hesitates. “I can’t—”

“Jacobi.” I clasp his shoulder. “You’re good enough to be quarterback…”

“I’m your backup, Shy. I’m nowhere near as good as you. I know it, you know it, they know it.”

Jacobi’s confidence in his skills is just one reason I’ve kept my appointment as Roth’s glorified gofer a secret from my friends. They’d see it as an honor. I’ve made the mistake of telling them about assignments and scores before. I used to think complaining about them was a way of showing them I’m not as high on the pedestal as they think, but I was wrong. The assignment as Roth’s guard—even though it’s a hoax—will be seen as just another example of favoritism and my complaints about why I don’t want to do it, arrogant.

“Look, don’t psych yourself out. I might be back in time. This is all precautionary. Just in case I get held up.”

“Getting that lockbox, you mean?” Jacobi asks with a raised brow.

I smile. Jacobi knows I’m lying. He takes a step back but grins, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“All right, but if Coach gives me hell, you’re doing my math homework for a week.”

I’ll do his math homework for a whole month to work off the guilt I feel. Jacobi turns on his heels and heads back to the locker room.

It takes about twenty minutes to get to the airport from Nacoma Knight Academy. I roll up in the passenger pickup lane and park, reaching for my phone. Several messages populate my screen, all from Natalie.

Are you still at the field house?

Where are you?

Hello?

I can tell when she’s talked to Jacobi because I get Why didn’t you tell me you were running an errand for your mom? As if I have to answer to her for every move.

My phone buzzes in my hand, and another message pops up in the queue: Are you ignoring me?