In Your Arms by Becky Andrews Page B

handing her the slip. “It was his fault.” She pointed at Phillip.
    “What? This wasn’t my fault,” Phillip said with a laugh.
    “You wouldn’t give me my notebook,” Sam said. “Well, he wouldn’t,” Sam said to Mrs. Hutchinson.
    “All right, kids, take a seat.” Mrs. Hutchinson rolled her eyes.
    Sam walked toward the back of the classroom, followed by Phillip.
    “It wasn’t my fault,” Phillip said again.
    “Yes, it was. If you had given me my notebook, we wouldn’t be in this mess. I was trying not to get any more detentions in her class.”
    “Well, if you had remembered to pick up your notebook yesterday, I wouldn’t have had to give it back to you.”
    “If you would have given me my notebook earlier, we wouldn’t have been sent here for talking.”
    “Have you gotten it all out?” Phillip asked.
    Sam furrowed her brow. “What?”
    “I think we’ve ripped at each other enough, don’t you think?”
    “Well, if you—” Sam began then paused. “I have nothing.”
    “Coach is going to kill me for being late to practice.”
    “I’m sure you won’t be late.”
    “Sam, we’re in detention. We have to stay here an hour after class ends.”
    “Believe me, we’re the only ones in here, we’ll get out early.”
    “I see. You and Mrs. Hutchinson have a deal going on.”
    “Not really a deal, she just knows how unfair Ms. Hatchet can be. I’ve just been here so many times…” Sam trailed off. “Okay, I’m not making any sense.”
    “I understand what you mean, though. So what do you normally do in detention?”
    “Draw,” Sam said, blushing at the thought of the picture he’d seen.
    “That’s right, I forgot.”
    “I’ve never actually been in detention with somebody I know. This is actually kind of strange.”
    “Well, I can go over the particulars of football so you’ll understand what’s happening Friday.”
    “Yeah, sounds great. I really do need to learn how that game is played. I don’t know why my parents never taught me. I mean, my brother played the game—why wouldn’t I know how to play?” Sam felt her cheeks heat as she realized she was babbling. “I’ll stop now and let you explain. I have a tendency to ramble sometimes.”
    “Sometimes?” Phillip smiled, mocking Sam’s statement before class.
    “Ha ha, handsome, just tell me how to play the game,” Sam sneered.
    Phillip smiled at the mention of his nickname and began to tell Sam how to play the game. The whole class had gone by before Phillip had finished explaining the particulars.
    “Do you understand?” Phillip asked.
    “Uh, yeah, sure I do,” Sam lied.
    “You know, you’re not a very good liar.”
    “I understood some of it, maybe not a hundred percent but I understood some. Like kicking the ball to start the play—then throwing it to your teammate and the whole point is to get the ball to the other side of the field and score a touchdown or a field goal.”
    “Sam, that’s how much you knew when I first started explaining the game,” Phillip said.
    “Okay, so I retained none of it. I have enough to go to the game, I think, and I’ll just cheer when everyone else does, no biggie.” Sam smiled at him, hoping he wasn’t mad.
    “You know, you’re pretty cute when you smile,” Phillip said softly.
    “Hey, kids,” Mrs. Hutchinson said. “I think you two can leave, if you’d like.”
    “Great, thanks, Mrs. H. Hopefully I won’t be seeing you around,” Sam joked, deciding not to read too much into Phillip’s sweet comment. He had a girlfriend, she reminded herself.
    A cheating whore of a girlfriend he’d probably break up with if I just told him what I knew…
    “And I don’t want to see you either, missy,” Mrs. Hutchinson said as Sam and Phillip were leaving.
    The door closed behind them. “You two really do know each other well,” Phillip commented with a grin.
    “I have been in there multiple times. You would know, we are in the same class.”
    “Sam,” Alex said,