Page 4 of Better Than Revenge
“You’re right.” I sniffled, kicking at a strip of tree bark on the ground. “It would be. That has to be it. There is no other logical explanation.”
“I mean, the only other logical explanation is that he’s a terrible boyfriend, and person, but he’s not. He’s been decent.”
“A ringing endorsement,” I said.
“Well, anyone who hogs half my best friend’s time isn’t myfavoriteperson.”
He was one ofmyfavorite people, though, and I needed what she was saying now to be true. He wouldn’t do this to me.
My phone, which I was loosely holding in my hand, buzzed with a text from Jensen.
Where did you go?
“What is he saying?” Deja asked.
I turned my phone toward her.
“Hmm. That doesn’t read likeJust kidding. Gotcha. You should’ve seen your face.”
“If this is a joke, he’d play the long game. It’s a joke.”
To class,I typed back.Why?
Deja laughed. “You’re going to pretend his joke is no big deal. I like it.”
“He deserves it,” I huffed. “I don’t find this very funny at all.”
“It’s a little bit funny.” She squeezed my arm. “Tell me how it plays out. I need to go back to the class you just pulled me from.”
“Right…class. See you later when we can both laugh aboutthis.”
IT WAS LATER. I WASN’Tlaughing. At all.
It was lunch hour, and we, the group of juniors who had tried out that morning, sat outside the studio under some big shade trees. The studio was too small for us all to squeeze inside. Probably another reason the senior team was pretty small—two behind the mics, two on the soundboard, two researchers. Six people. I quickly counted the people sitting around me. There were twenty-five of us. I had about a one in four chance of making it on the team and a one in twelve chance of making it into my dream spot as one of the hosts.
Jensen, who was apparently going to play out this joke to the bitter end, was sitting next to me. He took my hand in his. When I saw him on the break between second and third period, he spent the whole ten minutes complaining about how his English teacher made them write poetry today and not a single word about his audition or why he decided to try out. Since I was not going to give his joke the satisfaction of a huge reaction, I didn’t say a word either.
The six outgoing seniors stood in front of us. Nolen, the leader of the group, held a paper in his hand. He was well loved by the entire school, one of the voices we heard every morning and afternoonover the announcements and twice a week on the podcast, which was broadcast after school hours and I’d listened to religiously for the last five years.
“This year was very competitive. I know you’ve all been thinking about this moment for years, and it’s not a decision we’ve taken lightly. We’ve analyzed and rearranged and debated. But we’ve finally come to anearlyunanimous decision.”
Susie, the cohost, added, “Wealmosthad two girls hosting the podcast next year. It was this close.” She held up her pointer finger and thumb millimeters apart. “But we decided to go another way. We decided to think outside the box, perhaps bring a new audience to our show.”
New audience? As in, they hoped some of the students who didn’t listen to the show now would start listening because there was new blood involved? My stomach felt like it was collapsing in on itself.
A smile broke out on Nolen’s face. “Jensen Ballard, dude, you made it as one of our hosts.”
Jensen dropped my hand to pump his fist in the air and let out a loud whoop. The rest of the group clapped. One of the senior soundboard techs, standing on the far right, kept her hands firmly in her pockets. She looked angry. Guess I knew who kept the vote from being unanimous.
And I guess I knew this most definitely wasn’t some elaborate prank Jensen had thought up. My stomach was sinking again. The only thing that could salvage this now was if I made it too. Jensen and I hosting the podcast our senior year togethercouldbe epic. Maybe Jensen had pitched some sort of love hotline where we could dole out relationship advice. Our sister school had done thata couple years ago on their podcast. We’d be pretty good candidates for something like that. We had been rocking our relationship…until today…maybe.
I felt eyes on me, as if my friends thought one less hosting spot was my fault. I wanted to assure them that I was just as shocked as they were. That the big guy sitting next to me with the wide smile on his face had not run this by me first.
“Ava Lester,” Susie said. “You made the other hosting spot. Congrats!”
Even though my stomach was now rock hard, I smiled over at Ava through the pain. Would it have been me and her if not for Jensen?
He mumbled something from beside me, but I couldn’t hear him because blood seemed to be pumping a direct route through my ears. My eyes were stinging again. I was not going to cry over this. At least not in front of everyone.