The Beginning of Everything by Robyn Schneider Read Free Book Online Page A

told us to hold on to our debates, and Toby mouthed, “Told you so.”
    The classroom began to clear out, and I watched Cassidy fasten the buckles on her satchel. Her hair was half pinned up into this crown of braids, and with the sharp planes of her cheekbones and her pale skin, she looked as though she’d stepped out of a different era, one where people bought war bonds and decamped to the countryside to avoid air raids. I’d never seen anyone like her, and I couldn’t help but stare.
    â€œCome on,” Toby said, and Cassidy glanced up, nearly catching me staring. “Join me for lunch. You’re coming too, Faulkner. I could use a new sidekick.”
    â€œActually, I’m going to Chipotle,” I said. “With Evan and Jimmy and them.”
    But it sounded ridiculous, and even as I said it, I knew I wasn’t really going.
    â€œSure you are.” Toby laughed. “I’m not taking no for an answer. Now let’s go, for my harem does not eat before I have graced them with my magnificence.”

7
    THE MOMENT I entered the quad, I realized I’d made a grand miscalculation: Jimmy and Evan hadn’t gone to Chipotle after all. All of my old friends had stayed on campus. I could see them there, at the choice table near the wall that divided the upper and lower quads. The water polo and tennis guys were squished around the too-small table, balancing girlfriends on their laps. Charlotte’s Song Squad crowd sat on the wall, drinking Diet Cokes and swinging their bare legs. It wasn’t quite the same crew as last year, but the composition didn’t matter. It was still that table , the one where the laughter carried across the quad and everyone who heard it wished they were in on the joke.
    â€œYo, Captain!” Luke Sheppard called, catching sight of Toby and waving.
    I could feel everyone watching as we crossed the quad: Toby in his bow tie, Cassidy in her crown of braids, and me, with the sleeve of my black hoodie pulled low over my wrist brace, trying to look as though I needed my cane less than I actually did.
    Toby ushered us over to one of the better-placed tables in the upper quad, an eight-seater with a gray beach umbrella, half full of our year’s resident eccentrics. “Meet the rest of our school’s illustrious debate team,” he said, and for a moment I thought he was joking.
    There was Luke Sheppard, the president of the film club, with his hipster glasses and signature smirk. The year before, our whole school had followed this blog called Auto-Tune the Principal , and while Luke had never outright claimed credit, everyone knew it was him. Sitting next to Luke was Sam Mayfield, looking like he’d gotten lost on his way home from the country club. Sam smacked of future lawyer, and even though he was a junior, he’d been head of the Campus Republicans for as long as I could remember. Across from Sam, drinking a can of Red Bull and playing some game on his iPad, was Austin Covelli, our school’s resident graphic designer. Austin was the guy who whipped up the yearbook cover and designed the school sweatshirts. Back during sophomore year, he’d launched an online T-shirt store.
    Mostly, I’d been picturing Toby’s friends as a bunch of obscure honor-roll students, the sort who clubbed together out of social necessity and made it through high school largely unnoticed. Not these guys.
    â€œLook who I found,” Toby said gleefully.
    Luke’s jaw dropped. Sam let out an incredulous laugh.
    â€œWell, well, if it isn’t Cassidy Thorpe,” Austin said, flicking his shaggy blond hair out of his eyes without looking away from his game. “What the heck are you doing here?”
    Cassidy smiled hugely. “Waiting to graduate and move on with my life, same as y’all. Now how come none of you ever mentioned that your school has a coffee cart?”
    Cassidy slid onto the bench next to Toby, pulled out a