Chapter 7: Breakfast Battles

Top students just think differently.

Within five minutes, Noah settled things with Mallory. When he came back, she had already quieted down.

All the posts about me on the confession wall were gone.

She shot me a glare, but could only go back to her seat quietly.

Noah slid a pack of strawberry-scented wet wipes—probably from Target—onto my desk.

"Sorry, clean it off."

The packaging was pink, and when I pulled one out, it smelled faintly of strawberries.

I opened my workbook. "When do we start?"

Smart people respond quickly.

"Every weekend."

"Okay."

It was Wednesday. I counted—just two more days. Thursday, Friday.

Mallory seemed determined to show off her childhood friend status. Every morning, she brought breakfast from Main Street Deli and set it on Noah’s desk, right across from me.

The wax paper crinkled as she set the bag down, the rich smell of bacon making my stomach growl. Blushing, she’d say, "Your stomach isn’t good. Make sure you eat it all."

Main Street’s breakfast sandwiches—egg, bacon, and spinach. The smell was mouthwatering.

Thinking of this, I secretly brought breakfast to the library on Saturday.

The library was quiet except for the whirr of the old ceiling fans. Sunlight spilled over the long wooden tables. I set the bag down between us, trying not to look nervous.

My palms were sweaty as I slid the sandwich across the table. What if he thought I was weird for bringing him food?

"I brought this for you. Eat it while it’s hot."

Noah was stunned.

I said, "If your stomach’s sensitive, you need breakfast."

I hesitated, but pushed the sandwich toward him anyway. Maybe food could fix what words couldn’t. "Hurry up and eat, or someone might see."

He held the breakfast sandwich I’d saved from the night before, his cheeks suspiciously red.

He looked at me, then the sandwich, then back again, as if he couldn't quite believe it was for him.