This has to be some kind of joke, right? Just a little side quest on his ultimate mission to totally and completely destroy my life? Why would Mr. Popular—Mr. President—want me as his Spirit Week partner? He could have anyone as his partner. Most people at this school would sell a kidney just to be in the same room as the guy, let alone participate in Spirit Week with him.

“You heard me,” Cai says.

At this point Crystal has found her way over to our table. She looks disgusted as she reluctantly sits down but does little to acknowledge T or me.

“I’m…gonna go get some chips from the vending machine,” Tanisha says, slipping out of her seat. I shoot her a look of betrayal.

“What’s going on, babe?” Crystal asks, taking Cai’s arm and resting her chin on his shoulder, her artificially sun-kissed blonde hair falling down her back.

“You can’t be serious,” I say, ignoring Crystal’s whining intermission. Cai also appears unfazed by Crystal’s presence. I suppose she must feel like an extra limb at this point; the girl is always hanging off him. Not that he seems to mind.

“Oh, I super am.” He shrugs and Crystal’s head bobs with the movement. “It’s the perfect out for our little situation.”

“What situation, babe?” Crystal asks.

Please, I pray to anyone listening, let me get struck by lightning right now.

“The VP and the president have to get some good pics in for the yearbook, but you know…our schedules are so busy I thought we might as well partner up!” Cai explains effortlessly. I’m genuinely shocked.

This is technically blackmail, I want to say, but I hold my tongue. I look at Crystal and know I can’t just go around throwing that term out there without her latching onto it like some kind of gossip barracuda. But maybe he has already told her everything and I’m so below her list of concerns that she doesn’t really care.

“But…but I don’t—" I sputter.

“I know, you never actually participate in anything at this school,” he says.

“That is so not true,” I argue. How could he even say that? I’m the vice president—should be president—of the student council!

“Name one thing,” Cai challenges.

“What about student council?” I cross my arms.

“Doesn’t count.” He copies my movement, only his arms look much more foreboding crossed, threatening the seams on his short-sleeve T-shirt with the tension.

“Last year’s Spring Solstice dance.”

“You planned the whole thing and left after setting up.”

“Okay, what about color guard?” I say weakly, as maybe the last shred of pride I have left leaves my body.

“Rowan, that was freshman year and you quit after a week,” Tanisha says, materializing behind me with a bag of potato chips.

“Come on, it’ll do you good, it’ll be fun,” Cai insists. “Besides, I could use a brain like yours.”

I scoff. If that’s true, then why’d he nearly concuss me with a dodgeball last week?

“Cai, babe, if you already have a partner, then what am I supposed to do?” Crystal pouts, releasing his arm and sitting back to look at him.

I stand up, annoyed. “Don’t worry, Crystal, Cai doesn’t already have a partner.” Then, turning to Cai, who’s looking up at me amused, I say, “I don’t have time to participate in the activities. As you know, I actually have to work. Something most students at this school wouldn’t know the first thing about.” The smirk on Cai’s face falters slightly. I storm off.

After classes, and several hours of successfully avoiding any contact with Cai, I manage to weave my way through the parking lot in my less than inconspicuous, Interstellar Space Diplomat green 1999 Toyota Echo. When I’m finally a few blocks from the school, I no longer feel like Cai is going to pop up out of nowhere with a sneak attack.

I’m running late due to a combination of my drawn-out Cai-dodging tactics and the fact that my car can’t handle traveling at any speed higher than sixty mph without threatening to collapse in on itself. Don’t get me wrong; I love my car, and I know I’m lucky to even have a mode of transportation beyond the pair of rollerblades I used to rely on. It was a present from Dad. He spent most of his savings on buying and fixing it up. Regardless, even he would admit the thing belongs in a museum.

When I make it into the Winters Marketing Company parking lot, flashing my intern badge to the parking attendant, I tuck my car into a space far away from the other vehicles in the lot. I wouldn’t say I’m embarrassed of the thing—okay, so maybe a little—but it would feel wrong parking it next to any of the Porsches and Cadillacs.

Hustling inside, I make my way to my boss, Maria. “Maria, I’m so sorry I’m late. I—”

She holds up a hand to silence me. “Rowan, it’s fine,” she says. “You need to chill out, kid, you’re an intern not a brain surgeon.”

“I know. I just want to make a good impression,” I say. This internship, unlike my job at Blazer Tag, is something I actually plan to include on my resume.

“Well, we survived the”—she pauses and checks the rose gold watch on her wrist— “three minutes without you. Now go do your thing, kid. You’re late for surgery.” She hands me a stack of papers and winks. “Go file these.”

I nod, taking them and hurrying down the hall. I really like working with Maria, she gets through my anxiety and makes me feel like I’m actually valued even though I know I’m just the intern. As I round a corner, I nearly collide with a black-haired woman in a tweed blazer. A manicured hand flies out to steady me as I stumble back, a few papers fluttering from the stack in my hands in the process.

“I am so sorry!” I meet the woman’s eyes. Jeanne Winters, CEO of Winters Marketing Company and Cai Xian’s mother, stands before me. Despite having almost been mowed down by an intern, she appears totally put together. As per usual, the woman’s a walking TIME Magazine cover and I know exactly where Cai got his crazy good looks from. She analyzes my face carefully, and I begin to panic that she recognizes me from my hysterical display at Blazer Tag.

Instead she says, “Would you like some help with those?” She picks up some of the papers I dropped and turns to hand them to me. She studies my face once again. A spark of recognition flashes in her eyes, and I suck in a breath. Here it comes.

“You’re Rowan, aren’t you?” She wags a finger at me. “Oh, you’re Cai’s friend!”

I stare at her in shock, where the hell did she get that idea? Does Cai talk about me? I force out a strained smile. “Cai and I go to school together,” I provide.

“I didn’t realize you worked here!” she says, patting my shoulder.

“I—”

“You should come to the house some time. You and Cai could be study buddies!”

Study buddies? What kind of stories was Cai telling about me?

Without waiting for a response, she continues. “What schools are you looking to apply to? You know, a WMC internship is a great addition to any young man’s resume.”

All I want to do is yank open the filing room door, fling myself in to hide. Has Cai gotten his entire family out to get me? His little brother assaults me, he blackmails me, now his mother is interrogating me. What’s next? Is his father going to hit me with his car?

“Uh, I’m looking at a few,” I say vaguely before rushing off into the filing room. The last thing I’m going to do is let Cai’s mother know about the University of Michigan plan. If Cai ever knew, he’d probably just end up applying only so he could swipe the last open spot right from under me.

***

I spend the rest of my day at WMC on autopilot. I file papers, I input data, I even clean out the coffee machine in the employee lounge, all without having a single complex thought. When I get home, I go to my room and divert that hyperfocus into studying for the upcoming chem exam.

Around 6:00 p.m. Mom knocks and pokes her head in. “Your Dad’s almost got dinner finished. Are you coming down?” she asks softly.

I sigh and shake my head. “I really have to study for this exam. And I’ve got two projects due Thursday so…” I twiddle my mechanical pencil between my fingers.

Mom nods and comes farther into the room, taking a seat at the end of my bed. “You really need a break, don’t you.” She phrases it like more of a statement than a question.

She places a hand on my head and strokes my hair gently and smiles. “You’ve always got a test, a project, a paper,” she says, “I wish you would carve out a little time just to be a teenager.”

I sit up a bit and motion toward my face. “Look, I’m a teenager!” My voice is full of fake enthusiasm.

She raises an eyebrow at me and barks out a laugh. “You know what I mean,” she says.

“I don’t have time to be a teenager, Mom.” I don’t look at her when I say it. I just turn the page in my textbook, despite this conversation leaving me with no idea where I even left off.

“Oh, honey, I’m sorry you have to work so much. I know it’s not fair. But your father...” She trails off. She is no longer smiling. “Your father—”

“Mom, I know. You don’t have to apologize, or feel guilty. I know Dad’s not working as much as he’d like to. But that’ll change soon. In the meantime, I’m happy to help you guys. Anyway, I owe you, you know, for the whole raising me thing.” That brings the smile back to her face.

I take her hand and tug her into a hug. “You guys don’t have to worry about me.”

She squeezes me tight. When she lets go, she insists, “You have to eat something. Be down in five minutes, or I’m bringing reinforcements.”

As I head down the stairs, I can faintly hear Dad humming from the kitchen—he always hums when he cooks. Mom leans against the counter sipping a glass of red wine. I can feel her eyes on me as I enter.

“Are you still upset about your classmate seeing you at Blazer Tag?” she asks. “Honestly, Rowan, it can’t be that bad.”

I huff out a sigh—she’s right, there certainly has been an influx of sighs in the recent weeks—and turn to her. “He’s blackmailing me.”

She looks stunned, then outraged. “Who would do that?”

“His name’s Cai. He’s a jerk.” I begin to ramble about Cai’s torture tactics as Mom listens carefully, sipping at her wine. I almost ask if I can have a glass too, but I already know that no amount of blackmail would get Mom to agree to that.

The doorbell rings, interrupting my ranting. Mom sets down her glass and heads to answer it. I follow close behind, curious.

When Mom opens the door, my jaw hits the floor.

All I can do is stare. Cai Xian is standing in my doorway. He’s standing there, casually, one hand loosely hooked in a pocket of his dark jeans, as if he isn’t totally alien to this household. The light green Henley that falls flawlessly over his torso and biceps matches the color of his eyes. My heart sputters weakly. He waves. “Hi, partner.”