I settle back, my palms on the bed behind me. “There was a guy there jogging. I recognized him, of course.” I say of course because who wouldn't know who Noah Sutton is?
He’s a legend at Northmount. With thick hair the color of straw, and wide shoulders that seem to stretch into forever, he walks the halls of our high school as if they were made for him to step foot there. The girls whisper about him, the guys boast about his abilities on the soccer field. The only person people talk more about is Tripp Benson. He’s a carbon copy of Noah, except he has white-blond hair and no desire to do well in school. The girls fall all over him, too, and he rules the soccer field.
None of this is information I’ve learned firsthand. It’s amazing what you can glean when you don’t talk to anybody.
“It was Noah Sutton. He didn’t know who I was, of course.” This of course is because I go out of my way to stay hidden. Paired with the fact that we've never had a class together, this means I’ve pretty much been transparent to him.
Sky groans, her hands on her eyes. She shakes her head. “Why him, Ember?”
“What are you talking about?” The image of Noah standing on the shore, water droplets from the bottom of his soaked shorts making polka-dots in the sand, sticks to my mind. I want to protect it from my sister’s dubiousness, from whatever she thinks she has to be skeptical about.
Her eyes are on me, her hands placed on the bed between us. “We’re talking about Brody Sutton’s little brother, right?”
“I think so,” I say slowly. The name sounds vaguely familiar.
“Hopefully Noah is nothing like his brother.” She shakes her head, as though I’ve just made the most grievous of errors.
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