Chapter 12
Saturday’s snow flurries don’t keep us from traveling to St. Peter for the speech tournament. I sit behind Kaitlin and Savannah, but everything feels like ice—the bus seats, the floor, their stares. Before the first round starts, I check my phone, then check it again, and check it so many times, I’m afraid I’ll drain the battery. Casually, I walk by the Winnetka girls, hoping to hear where Sam is.
I get nothing but a whispered, “You’re going down.”
In the break before the third round, I see him. Sam. He’s here. For the first time in days, relief fills me. Finally, something—or someone—that’s right. We’ll talk, and somehow everything will be okay.
Only when he’s closer do I notice how tight his face is. How he’s looking straight at me, but I don’t think he really sees me. He
