Blaine for the Win by Robbie Couch

Author:Robbie Couch [Couch, Robbie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: S&S Books for Young Readers
Published: 2022-04-12T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 18

I’m pacing my bedroom in circles, pad of paper and pen in hand, thinking through all the attacks Zach may launch at me during the debate—both political and personal. Now that I’ve apparently pissed him off by asking about his campaign captain swap, I have no doubt that Zach will be out for blood on the gymnasium floor. I’ve got to be prepared.

I feel eyes on me from the foot of my bed. It’s Fudge, ears perked, staring into my soul.

“What?” I ask him.

His tail starts wagging.

“Do you have any debate prep advice?” I stick my clenched fist in front of his face, offering him an imaginary microphone to speak into.

He barks.

“Is that a yes or a no?”

He pops up onto his four legs, thrilled to be getting some attention.

“Okay, I know, I know,” I tell him, grabbing his leash. “Time for a walk.”

We head downstairs and pass by the living room, where Aunt Starr is in an all-pink athleisure outfit, attempting to do sit-ups like the fitness YouTuber on the TV. “Where are you going?” she asks breathlessly over her workout playlist.

“Taking Fudge for a walk. I need to clear my head. It might be a long one.”

“Okay! In that case,” she says, pausing to catch her breath, “can you pick up some doughnuts at Stan’s? I’ve been craving one. Only if you’re headed that way anyway, though.”

The Wicker Park Stan’s is definitely a hike—and one that leads into a more congested, pretentious part of town—but Fudge could certainly use the fresh air, and so could I. “Yeah, no problem.”

“Yes! One Maple Long John, please! Do you have money?”

“Yeah.”

“Good,” she says. “Because I don’t.”

“Oh!” I gasp, remembering the Field Museum job.

“What?” she asks, startled.

I pause.

Is now the best time to tell her? If I do, she’ll have many questions about the position and rope me into an hour-long discussion about the details. And I really need this walk right now.

“Never mind,” I say, deciding I’ll give her the business card when I return. “Just remembered some homework that needs to get done. Bye!” I pop in my earbuds, turn on some Lil Nas X, and slip out the front door with Fudge on his leash.

The sky is bright blue and empty of clouds. Every few steps I inhale a different smell from either a blossoming garden or a restaurant firing up its grill. I try to soak in this Chicago spring bliss, hoping it will aid in washing away the stress of this upcoming debate.

And this effort to win back Joey.

I miss him. I really, truly, deeply miss him. Sure, he and I are different in a myriad of ways, and what he did at Grey Kettle is still inexcusable—there’s no question about it. But the nerves I felt in my chest when I saw him in the bathroom? And the way he looked at me, smiling, and said I was impressive behind the podium? It all has to count for something.

Wait. Oh my God.

There he is.

I pull out my earbuds, feeling every one of my appendages freezing up in shock.

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