Chapter Sixty-Five

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Chapter Sixty-Five:

"Miss Brooks? I really don't appreciate the use of phones in my classroom during class time," my law teacher says, staring straight at me. 

I blink a few times at her, before giving her a sheepish smile and slipping my phone back into my pocket.

She's standing right in front of the table that I'm sitting at right now, and although I'm expecting her to hold her hand out for me to give up the device, I'm thankful that she doesn't. 

"I'm super sorry. It won't happen again. It's just school stuff," I apologize to her, and she tilts her head to the side, nodding as if she understands where I'm coming from.

"School stuff? University related?" she asks me, leaning her arms down on the tabletop to stare at me.

I nod at her quickly. "Yeah. I'm really stressed. My bad," I tell her, and she gives me a confused look.

"I didn't realize any of the universities here were releasing decisions today. I usually have more students on the edge of their seats all day. Which school?" she asks me.

"Oh, nowhere local. I'm waiting to hear back from Juilliard. It's a bit of a big deal, as I'm sure you can understand," I answer her, and she suddenly stands up straight.

"Juilliard? Interesting. Don't interpret this the wrong way, but why are you taking my class if you're pursuing the Arts?" she then asks me, and I shrug at her.

"I find it interesting, and it's a good distraction from all the theatre related things I do," I tell her, and she smiles at me, tucking the pen in her hand back behind her ear.

"I see. I'll let this time slide, but I'd really appreciate if this didn't happen again, Lexi. Now go back to your work," she directs, turning on her heel and walking away to answer the questions of students across the room.

"What was that all about?" a boy sitting across the table from me asks.

"It's nothing," I lie to him, and though he looks quizzical, raising an eyebrow at me, his eyes go back to his textbook and he begins to continue taking notes in his binder.

I try to do the same, flipping to the next page of the textbook chapter, but I can't focus.

My eyes are seeing the words, but my brain isn't processing the information. I end up reading the same line over and over again, but it still doesn't get any better.

My head is full of thoughts about Juilliard and New York City, Bryce and all the new opportunities sure to come to me.

Bryce.

I feel that now, if I don't get accepted, I'm no longer just letting down myself; I'd be letting him down too. He wants us to have a future together, but I'm scared that we won't be able to have the future we want unless we live in the same city these next few years.

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"Why are you still here? I thought you were off last period?" I ask Bryce when I approach our lockers.

For some reason, he's leaning against the rows of metal doors with his backpack by his feet on the floor. He's typing on his phone, but upon hearing my voice he gets a giddy grin on his face, tucking the device away before pulling me into a hug.

"Woah. Why so affectionate?" I ask against his chest. He pulls away to look me in the eye, but he keeps his hands on my waist.

"No particular reason. I'm just trying to stay positive. Have you heard anything yet?" he asks me, a slight gleam in his eyes, but I just shake my head at him.

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