muttered.
“Are you listening to me?”
Avery looked up from her roster. “You’re like an irritating fly. Go away.”
“Avery!”
She headed for a group of grown men. Mr. Connelly was among them. I didn’t notice when he arrived, but now that he was here, I couldn’t take my eyes off of him. He wore a pair of blue Dickies with a gray long-sleeve T-shirt. It hugged his body snuggly, highlighting toned arms and a tight chest. His typical Converse All Stars were replaced by a pair of old Timberlands. He rocked major bed-head, and suddenly a new impulse surfaced to replace the one I had about screaming in Gracie’s face: I wanted to run up to Mr. Connelly and put my fingers in his hair. I wanted to grab his hair, pull his face down to mine, and force him to kiss me.
“Oh, Lord,” I breathed.
“Everyone! Over here!” Avery called, and I walked over to the group, standing as far away from Mr. Connelly as I could. “Okay, here’s how it’s gonna go. I’m pairing up the teens with adults. The easiest, most efficient way to get all this done today is to work as teams. Teens, you’ll take direction from the adults you’re paired with. Adults, you’ll take direction from me.”
A few chuckles. I had to admit that Avery was really good at organizing and leading. If I had to address this crowd of thirty people, I’d be nothing but sweaty armpits and stuttering sentences.
“Okay. I’ve already handed out the “to do” lists to all the adults. It’s super important that you get all the items on your list checked off before the sun goes down. We’ve got six houses, people. We can totally do this,” Avery said. “Now listen for your teams. Team 1: Mr. Sunder, Dean, and Gracie. Team 2: Mr. Wallace, Adrian, and Lizzie. Team 3: Mr. and Mrs. Rollings, Seth, and Abbey. Team 4: Mr. Clemish and Mrs. Grayson, Toby, and Amber . . .”
I listened patiently for my name, happy to have avoided being paired with Gracie and her mom, but growing increasingly nervous about the names not yet called.
“. . . Team 7: Mr. Connelly, Tate, and Cadence . . .”
I didn’t know if I’d faint or squeal. I knew I shouldn’t do either and turned my head when a car drove by. Good distraction. Exactly what I needed to get my emotions under control. Unfortunately, there was nothing I could do about my flushed face. Tate sidled up to me and plopped his arm over my shoulder.
“Cadence Miller. Prettiest ex-con in all of Atlanta,” he said.
“Gross. Get off me,” I replied, pushing his arm away.
Tate was a sleazebag, but he thought he was a smooth operator. He never made fun of me for my juvie stint, but he liked to constantly remind me that I was attractive, and all the more so because of the time I spent behind bars. Apparently, he liked the bad girls. He asked me questions every now and again about my time in jail, but I wouldn’t engage him in conversation. I didn’t want to tell him anything, fearing the information would do nothing but turn him on and make him even more obnoxious.
“So, what’s the food like in juvie?” he asked.
I ignored him.
“Do you have, like, recess or playtime? Or what is it called? Yard time?”
Still ignoring.
“Do you girls shower together? Do you help each other wash?”
“Tate, shut up.”
“Hey guys,” Mr. Connelly said, walking up to us.
“Hey,” we said in unison, and I rolled my eyes.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you at Crestview, Tate,” Mr. Connelly said.
“I don’t go there. I go to South Hampton,” Tate replied.
“The preparatory school always talked about in the papers?” Mr. Connelly asked.
“That’s the one,” Tate replied, looking smug.
I forgot to mention that Tate went to one of the most expensive and prestigious private high schools in Atlanta. His family was loaded which I guess, gave him license to act like a douchebag. For the most part he was harmless, but I feared one day he’d put his mouth on me without permission simply because
“Are you listening to me?”
Avery looked up from her roster. “You’re like an irritating fly. Go away.”
“Avery!”
She headed for a group of grown men. Mr. Connelly was among them. I didn’t notice when he arrived, but now that he was here, I couldn’t take my eyes off of him. He wore a pair of blue Dickies with a gray long-sleeve T-shirt. It hugged his body snuggly, highlighting toned arms and a tight chest. His typical Converse All Stars were replaced by a pair of old Timberlands. He rocked major bed-head, and suddenly a new impulse surfaced to replace the one I had about screaming in Gracie’s face: I wanted to run up to Mr. Connelly and put my fingers in his hair. I wanted to grab his hair, pull his face down to mine, and force him to kiss me.
“Oh, Lord,” I breathed.
“Everyone! Over here!” Avery called, and I walked over to the group, standing as far away from Mr. Connelly as I could. “Okay, here’s how it’s gonna go. I’m pairing up the teens with adults. The easiest, most efficient way to get all this done today is to work as teams. Teens, you’ll take direction from the adults you’re paired with. Adults, you’ll take direction from me.”
A few chuckles. I had to admit that Avery was really good at organizing and leading. If I had to address this crowd of thirty people, I’d be nothing but sweaty armpits and stuttering sentences.
“Okay. I’ve already handed out the “to do” lists to all the adults. It’s super important that you get all the items on your list checked off before the sun goes down. We’ve got six houses, people. We can totally do this,” Avery said. “Now listen for your teams. Team 1: Mr. Sunder, Dean, and Gracie. Team 2: Mr. Wallace, Adrian, and Lizzie. Team 3: Mr. and Mrs. Rollings, Seth, and Abbey. Team 4: Mr. Clemish and Mrs. Grayson, Toby, and Amber . . .”
I listened patiently for my name, happy to have avoided being paired with Gracie and her mom, but growing increasingly nervous about the names not yet called.
“. . . Team 7: Mr. Connelly, Tate, and Cadence . . .”
I didn’t know if I’d faint or squeal. I knew I shouldn’t do either and turned my head when a car drove by. Good distraction. Exactly what I needed to get my emotions under control. Unfortunately, there was nothing I could do about my flushed face. Tate sidled up to me and plopped his arm over my shoulder.
“Cadence Miller. Prettiest ex-con in all of Atlanta,” he said.
“Gross. Get off me,” I replied, pushing his arm away.
Tate was a sleazebag, but he thought he was a smooth operator. He never made fun of me for my juvie stint, but he liked to constantly remind me that I was attractive, and all the more so because of the time I spent behind bars. Apparently, he liked the bad girls. He asked me questions every now and again about my time in jail, but I wouldn’t engage him in conversation. I didn’t want to tell him anything, fearing the information would do nothing but turn him on and make him even more obnoxious.
“So, what’s the food like in juvie?” he asked.
I ignored him.
“Do you have, like, recess or playtime? Or what is it called? Yard time?”
Still ignoring.
“Do you girls shower together? Do you help each other wash?”
“Tate, shut up.”
“Hey guys,” Mr. Connelly said, walking up to us.
“Hey,” we said in unison, and I rolled my eyes.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you at Crestview, Tate,” Mr. Connelly said.
“I don’t go there. I go to South Hampton,” Tate replied.
“The preparatory school always talked about in the papers?” Mr. Connelly asked.
“That’s the one,” Tate replied, looking smug.
I forgot to mention that Tate went to one of the most expensive and prestigious private high schools in Atlanta. His family was loaded which I guess, gave him license to act like a douchebag. For the most part he was harmless, but I feared one day he’d put his mouth on me without permission simply because
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