Dr. O had given him a note, getting him out of math for several days on the excuse that he was working on a science project. Miss Sills had taken revenge by giving him far more work than he’d ever have done in the lesson, which Dr. O had proceeded to make him do after training. Conner still thought it was worth it, to avoid Trent.

But Miss Sills had eventually started dropping hints to Dr. O about science projects using up valuable time which should be spent on math, and Dr. O had pointed out that Trent had been showing up to school for about one day a week, all which added up to Conner having to go back to math.

Trent, of course, had picked that day as his one day to show up. He smirked as soon as he saw Conner, obviously anticipating some sort of reaction.

Well, Conner wasn’t going to give him one. He picked the first empty seat he saw, at the front of the class next to a weird-looking girl with brown hair, and dropped down into it.

The girl glared. Conner looked around, starting to regret his choice.

“What are you doing?”

“Sitting next to you?”

“You normally sit over there, next to Trent.”

“You know Trent?” Oh, great. She was probably an evil minion or something, knowing his luck. Conner glanced over his shoulder, to see Trent glaring at him. He turned back to the girl with a shiver. Trent could look scary. “I’ve been . . . arguing with him. I just don’t want to sit next to him, and Miss Sills will make me move if I sit next to anyone . . .” Fun.

He didn’t say it, but from the way her eyes narrowed, she got exactly what he meant. “I don’t blame him. What’s the problem, he refused to kneel at your feet and kiss your holy soccer boots?”

How about betrayed me, attacked me, and tried to kill me? “Look, it’s none of your business, alright?”

It took her a while to respond, but she didn’t sound as angry when she did. “You’re really mad at him?”

If hating someone counted as being really mad. “Yes.”

When she didn’t say anything else, he started pulling out his books. She moved some of her stuff over to make room. One thing caught his interest: a leaflet, with a very familiar picture on it . . . “Hey, what’s that?”

The girl snatched it away. “Not that I’d expect you to care, but they’re building over a children’s park downtown. I’m campaigning against it.”

Something made Conner glance behind again, to see Trent looking absolutely furious at Conner’s apparent friendship with the girl. Conner turned back, suddenly feeling much happier. “I do care, actually. I used to play soccer there.”

“Really?” She blinked in surprise. “Well, they’re wanting to build over it to create a new car park for the shops nearby. It’s a park with a great history—some of the hedgerows have been standing for decades. And it’s one of the last open green spaces in that part—”

Conner couldn’t care less. “Hey, what’s your name?”

Her eyes narrowed again. “Krista. And don’t worry, I’ve already heard of you.”

She didn’t make it sound like a good thing. He glanced back at Trent, who smirked, apparently at the fact that Krista was now glaring at him.

“Will you stop looking at Trent?” she snapped. “You know, you are incredibly rude.”

“What? I haven’t done anything!”

“You sat next to me without asking, interrupted me, ignored me to keep looking at—”

“Look, I do not keep looking at him!” Conner remembered to drop his voice just in time. Trent realizing they were arguing about Conner looking at him . . . well, that would not be good. Before Krista could say anything else, he offered, “Look, I’m not the only one who used to play soccer at that park. Why don’t I take some of those leaflets? I can pass them around at soccer practice.”

He only said it to make her shut up, but to his surprise he actually liked the idea. He’d spent hours in that park when he was younger, learning how to dribble and cross and curl the ball. Thinking of it becoming a car park . . . well, he didn’t like it.

And it was worth it for the look of surprise of Krista’s face. “Really?”

“Yeah, course.”

She didn’t waste anytime, fishing a stack of leaflets out of her bag and shoving them into his hands. “Give out those. If you need any more, just ask me.”

Conner flicked through them. “Um . . . you do realize there are only actually 23 people on the team?”

“I’m sure you can find a few other people to give them to.” She glared at him until he put them in his bag, and then glanced behind. He had to force himself not to follow her gaze. He did not want to look at Trent. “So,” she asked, “What’s up with you and Trent?”

“Nothing.” From the look on her face, she wasn’t going to give up that easily. Conner glanced towards the door. Shouldn’t Miss Sills be here by now?

“I promise I won’t tell anyone. I mean, how bad can it be?”

He almost laughed at that. “Trust me, you do not want to know.”

“No, I really do. He looks really angry. So do you, actually.”

“Because I don’t want to tell you!”

“I promise I won’t be sarcastic. Or laugh. Or even say anything at all.”

“Look . . .” Despite himself, Conner couldn’t help glancing at Trent again. The other boy mouthed something Conner couldn’t make out. He almost mouthed ‘what’ back, before remembering that he didn’t want to talk to Trent. Or look at him. He looked back at Krista. “It’s nothing, really.”

“You have to tell me now. I’m really curious.” She grinned. “My girlfriend’s always complaining that I have to know everything.”

“Oh.” Wait. Girlfriend? “You’re . . . you mean, you’re . . . you don’t mean . . .”

She looked surprised. “You don’t know? It was all over school— spread by one of your cheerleader friends. I thought that was why you sat next to me. Make fun of Krista time.”

“I wouldn’t do that! I didn’t know, I swear. I mean, I don’t care about that. Really. I mean, I bet your girlfriend and you are really good together.” That was a sensitive thing to say, right?

She didn’t look any happier. “It’s because I’m a girl, isn’t it? You think the idea of two girls getting it on is hot. I bet it would be different if I was a boy. You’d be terrified I’d come on to you.”

He was starting to think Krista spent her time permanently mad. “No! No, I wouldn’t. It’s not that. I don’t find the idea of you making out with another girl hot.” Well, it was a little bit hot. “I mean, I don’t think you’re like, ugly or anything . . .” He could just feel this going wrong. “Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you or anything.”

“That makes me feel so much better.”

He sighed, trying to work out what to say next. He didn’t want her mad at him. With Trent glaring at him from behind, her scowling from the side and Miss Sills tutting whenever he moved, he’d go mad before math was over. “Look, me and Trent . . . it’s complicated, alright? And personal. It’s not that I don’t want to tell you, it’s that I don’t want to tell anybody.”

“I’ve just told you I’m a lesbian. Shouldn’t I get a confession in return?”

“You thought I already knew! And I just really don’t want to, okay? So could we please just drop it?”

She glanced behind. From the look on her face, she still wasn’t completely happy with him—though by now the list of ways he’d offended her was probably so long he’d forgotten half of them. “What if I asked Trent?” she said.

Conner spun in his chair to look at Trent, who gave a little wave. He hadn’t even thought of that. What if Trent decided to start spreading stuff round school? It might not have much affect—Trent was new and a bit of a geek, Conner was popular with lots of friends—but Kira and Ethan would hear.

The last thing he wanted was for Krista to start giving Trent ideas. “You can’t ask him. Don’t.”

“You can’t tell me what to do!”

“Okay, Krista, it’s just . . . Trent knows some stuff that I don’t want anyone else to know.”

“Like what?”

“Just . . . stuff. My life’s been kind of stressful recently, and he’s kind of caused a lot of it. And he knows all this stuff that I don’t want other people to know, but I’m scared he’s going to tell someone, and he just won’t leave me alone . . .”

He cut himself off sharply, realizing that he’d sounded humiliatingly close to tears. What had happened to swearing he wouldn’t let Trent get to him anymore? Now, apparently all Trent had to do was throw a few insults and glare a bit.

To his surprise, Krista rubbed his arm. “I won’t ask him. And I’ll stop pushing, I’m sorry. I never know when to shut up.” She smiled slightly. “But, you know, I’m always here if you need to talk to a friend.”

“A friend?”

She glared. “Unless I’m not good enough for the great Conner McKnight.”

“No, no, you’re fine,” said Conner hastily, attempting a smile. “You’re good.”

--

“You looked kind of friendly with Krista in math class.” Trent looked calm, but he sounded furious. He stood in front of Conner, blocking him from walking any further down the hall. “What, did I scare you straight again or something?”

“You didn’t scare me at all,” Conner snapped, then remembered Dr. O’s advice. Just walk away.

“Oh yeah? Well, what about the idea of me telling all your friends about our little conversation? Wonder how willing they’d be to shower with you after soccer when they know the truth about you.”

“The truth about him?”

Damn. Damn, damn, damn. This was not what Conner needed. “Derrick!”

Derrick glared at Trent. “Get lost, geek.”

Conner wasn’t sure whether to admire Derrick’s bravery or stupidity. He wouldn’t call Trent ‘geek’ with the other boy glaring like that. Trent just smirked. “Yeah. I know some interesting things about Conner.”

Conner tried not to go too pale. Derrick would just . . . freak if he found out. “He doesn’t know anything.”

Derrick barely glanced at him, stepping forward to get in Trent’s face. “Get. Lost. Geek. Whatever sick little lies you’re dreaming up, forget them.”

To Conner’s surprise, Trent hesitated, glancing between Conner and Derrick. He scowled, then stepped back. “See you later, Conner.”

Okay, how had Derrick done that?

Derrick obviously wasn’t about to give an explanation. “Come on. I want to go practice shooting.”

“You want help?”

“No, I want you to stand around being sarcastic like you always do. Come on.”

Conner paused. He never felt entirely sure when Derrick was being serious. Probably safer just to ignore it. “Have you got permission to use the pitch? And a goalie? I’m not going in goal.”

“Course not. You suck as a defender.”

“You suck as a striker.”

Conner followed Derrick down the hall, already feeling a little bit better. He only glanced back once. Trent had gone.

--