Chris laughs and it’s the deep, throaty kind that tells me the shit we’re entering is bad. “It’s nice to meet you. Ryan just told us how badly he wanted to call you, didn’t you, Ry?”

Ding-ding, Chris rang the bell for round two and he’s in direct violation of game play by interfering. Well played, because I would have done the same damn thing. “I tried looking for you this morning, but the secretary said you were in a meeting with Mr. Dwyer.”

Her blue eyes pierce me, and an eyebrow

slowly arches toward her hairline. The silence stretching between us becomes excruciating.

Chris shifts in his seat and Logan slouches lower by an inch. I will her to leave, but I need her presence to win the dare. I focus on

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keeping my face relaxed. If I even breathe, Skater Girl will know she has the upper hand.

“Uh-huh,” she finally responds. “I’m sure you did. Suck-ups do that type of thing. Here’s the deal. I avoid you, you avoid me, and when my uncle asks if you helped me today I’ll giggle like one of those pathetic girls standing in the hallway and gush about how poor,

defenseless me couldn’t make it in the big, mean school without big, strong Ryan to help me out.”

“You can giggle?” asks Logan.

She glares at him. He shrugs. “You don’t

strike me as the giggling type—just saying.”

Damn, Logan entered game play too, which

means he’ll want to place money on the dare.

Time to salvage. “This is Chris and Logan.

They play baseball with me. Chris has a

girlfriend who I’m sure you’ll love and if you want, you can sit with us today during lunch.”

“Dear God, you really are brain damaged.”

The bell rings and Skater Girl goes to the opposite side of the room and holes up in the corner. That went well. My friends both wear smiles that make me want to kick their asses.

“Twenty she curses you out by lunch,” says HC TITLE-AUTHOR

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Chris.

“Thirty she kills you by lunch,” adds Logan.

“I’m getting her number.” The two of them laugh, and the muscles in my biceps tighten at the thought of another loss. The paper in my notebook crinkles in my fist. “You don’t think I’ve got game?”

“Not enough game for that,” says Logan.

“I’ll prove you wrong.” Out of the corner of my eye, I glimpse Beth. With her head down and her long black hair hiding her face, she doodles in a notebook with a pen in her left hand. Huh—a southpaw.

Chris shakes his head. “Sorry, dawg. Beth attending Bullitt High is a rule-changing event.

See, phone numbers are for those we will never see again. You have months to work her. You want a win, then the stakes are raised—you have to ask her out and she has to accept.”

“And the date has to be at a public venue for no less than an hour,” adds Logan. “You know, to keep it legit.”

I shouldn’t do it. If I mess this up, I could tick off Scott Risk; but then again, if I work this right, I could have Scott Risk eating out of the palm of my hand. He all but begged me to HC TITLE-AUTHOR

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become friends with the spawn of Satan

over there. Plus, if I walk away from this opportunity, it means I lost and I don’t lose.

“Fine,” I say. “Dare accepted.”

Game on, Skater Girl. Game on.

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Beth

I NEED A CIGARETTE and a smoker who will

trust me. Unfortunately, I haven’t come across either of those in my four hours of living the teen version of Deliverance. From a distance, while the juniors and seniors head to lunch, I follow two guys with long hair and sagging jeans. I hope I can convince one of them to give me a drag.

They round a corner and I give them a sec. If I approach before they light up, they’ll try to act cool like they aren’t doing anything. Then there will be nothing I can say to convince them I won’t snitch.

Hell, I wouldn’t believe me. The new girl in a white button-down shirt.

I’ve given them long enough. I turn the

corner, prepared to tell them to chill, but the words catch in my mouth. They aren’t there.

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It’s a short hallway with double doors

leading out. I hurry to the window and watch as the two guys duck and weave through the parking lot. My head smacks the door. Damn. I never thought they’d skip. First day. That’s hard-core.

At the sound of a knock, my heart kicks out of my chest and with one glance out the

window it melts. It’s him. My body sags with relief. It’s really him. I press the door open and the moment the warm summer sun caresses my face, Isaiah gathers me into his arms.

Normally, I wouldn’t do this—touch him so aware. Today, I don’t mind. In fact, I bury myself in him.

“It’s okay.” Isaiah kisses my hair and his hand cradles the back of my head, keeping me close. He kissed me. This embrace should

bother me and I should push him away. We

don’t connect like this. Not sober. Today, his touch entices me to hold him tighter.

“How did you know?” I mumble against the

material of his shirt.

“Figured you’d come out for a smoke at

some point. This is the only place anyone has been doing it.”

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His heart has a strong, steady rhythm.

There were times, in my search for

weightlessness, that I pushed too hard. Drank too much. Inhaled more than I should. Became physical with guys who were no good for me. I would go beyond weightlessness as a balloon on a string that had been snapped—left alone in a frightening abyss. With one touch, Isaiah could ground me. Keep me from floating away with his arms as my anchor. His steady beating heart the reminder he would never let go.

With reluctance, I put space between us.

“How did you know I’d be at this school?”

“I’ll explain it to you later. Let’s go before we get caught.” He holds his hand out to me.

“Where?” I play along, knowing what my

answer will be. I want the fantasy—if only for a second.

“Wherever you want. You once said that you wanted to see the ocean. Let’s go to the ocean, Beth. We can live there.”

The ocean. The scene comes alive in my

mind. Me in a pair of old faded jeans and a tank top. My hair blowing wildly in the breeze.

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by. I’ll sit barefoot on the warm sand and watch the crashing waves while he watches me. Isaiah always keeps his eye on me.

I wrap my arms around myself and clutch

the hem of my shirt to prevent myself from grasping him. “I can’t.”

He keeps his arm extended, but the weight of my words causes it to waver. “Why not?”

“Because if I run away, if I break Scott’s rules, he’ll send my mom to jail.”

Isaiah’s hand clenches into a fist and his arm drops to his side. “Fuck him.”

“My mom!”

“Fuck her, too. In fact, why were you even with her Friday night? You promised me you’d stay away from her. She hurts you.”

“No, it was her boyfriend. Mom would

never hurt me.”

“She let you take the fall for her bullshit and she sat back while he used you as a fucking piñata. Your mom is a nightmare.”

A car door slams in the parking lot, and we slink to opposite corners by the door.

“We need to talk, Beth.”

I agree. We do. I nod toward the pinewoods.

“Let’s go over there.”

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Isaiah pokes his head out and scans the

area. He waves his hand for me to go. We don’t run. We walk in absolute silence. Once we’re deep enough in, I turn, waiting for the question that has to be tearing him apart.

“You lied to me.” Isaiah shoves his hands into his jeans pocket and stares at the brown pine needles on the ground. “You told me you never knew your dad.”