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“Bye, Crash,” Trinity called as she ducked out of the debate room.
“I told you to stop calling me that!” Victoria protested, and Trinity didn’t even have to turn around to imagine her face.
She was about to head towards the front entrance of the school when she noticed Samira, her Policy partner, leaving through the side door, and remembered that she had really meant to get together with her today. Shit.
Now they only had three more practices before their invitational. Maybe Coach Shamsi would let them come in in the mornings, but Samira had tennis, and shit, shit, shit. It was all just a mess.
She had to jog to catch up with Samira before she left.
“Hey, we didn’t get to work on our case today,” she tried.
Samira kept walking. Trinity groaned. “Come on, the invitational is in two weeks!”
It was only once she reached the door that Samira turned. Her gaze was even. “Look, Trinity… I don’t know if we should do Policy together, after all.”
“What?” Trinity stopped dead. She looked around. Nobody else. They had all left already. Except for Victoria and Coach Shamsi in the debate room… Whatever. It was whatever. It didn’t matter.
Samira was standing with one hand on the push bar of the door. It was storming outside, bad. “We don’t mix. I already talked to Jack, and he agrees with me.”
“Oh, you talked to Jack,” scoffed Trinity. “Did you talk to Coach? Our tournament is in two weeks!”
Samira sighed. “Well, Coach is a hardass.”
“No, Coach is right. You can’t do this, Samira. I mean, what happened to being a team player?”
Finally, Samira let go of the door handle—walked away from the raging storm outside—and came towards Trinity. It seemed like she brought the rain with her, even as her face remained fixed in that infuriatingly gentle, understanding, unaffected expression that she always wore.
“You have an… aggressive energy, Trinity. And you might not have picked up on this yet, but there’s a reason everyone around here calls me Slow-Mo. I can’t keep up with you—frankly, I don’t want to—and we both know you won’t calm down for me. It’s better this way. You have your OO, and I have my Poetry.”
Trinity watched her walk away. The sound of the doors shutting echoed through the empty English hallway. She let out an aborted scream, then, remembering Victoria and Coach Shamsi were probably listening in from down the hall, turned and punched the foam lining of the hall.
“Fuck!” What the fuck was she going to do now?
And it was fucking raining outside. Great.
She fished her phone outside of her bag to call Dennis.