by Naomi Martin
“I have absolutely zero doubt about that.”
I laugh, pulling the door closed behind me, and Bonnie follows me down to my car. Letting out a long, silent breath, I start the engine and we head off for our first day of school.
* * * * *
By the time we get to my locker, my nerves are pretty much shot. My hand is trembling so hard, Bonnie has to step in and open it for me.
“You need to relax, you’re shaking as hard as somebody who’s detoxing,” she teases. “Take a few deep breaths, or maybe try the decaf. Or maybe both.”
“Shut up,” I retort with a laugh.
She leans against my locker and betrays her own nervousness by pulling on the ends of her hair – a tic of hers I picked up on shortly after we met. I don’t even think she realizes she does it.
“So, where are you off to first?” I ask.
“Geometry.”
“Gag.”
“Tell me about it,” she groans.
I put a few things into my locker and close it, then offer Bonnie a weak smile. “Okay, I guess I can’t put it off any longer.”
“Nope. Time to bite the bullet.”
She walks me to my class, sending me off with the promise to come find me at lunch so I don’t have to sit out in the quad alone. I take a seat near the back of the classroom and pull my notebook and pens out of my bag, getting my desk set up and arranged like I used to – back when I was a good student.
Given the fact that I pretty much blew school off last year and tanked my GPA, I can kiss my dreams of Harvard or Yale goodbye. So, my goal this year is to get my grades back to an above-average level and then nail my SATs. That should put me in a good position to get into a decent school.
After blowing it so bad last year, I just want to get things back on track. I want to be able to look forward to building a future for myself, and I know I need an education to get what I want in life. And, most of all, I need to make my mom proud – the way she used to be. I’ve been such a horrible daughter for the last year, I just want to hear her say she’s proud of me again.
“Haven’t seen you around school before.”
When I turn around, I see the most beautiful girl I’ve ever laid eyes on before. I’m not into girls that way, but with platinum blonde hair that hangs to the middle of her back, eyes the color of the Caribbean Sea, and perfectly flawless honey-colored skin, she is pretty much walking perfection. She’s the kind of girl people picture when they think of California beaches. She looks like she could have stepped right out of the pages of a fashion magazine or off a runway in Paris. It’s kind of hard to not be stunned by beauty like that.
“Yeah, I just moved here over the summer,” I tell her, doing my best to regain my composure.
“From where?”
“L.A.”
She turns to the girl seated on her left, a redhead with equally flawless skin. The other girl has a fair, bordering on pale complexion, and eyes the color of polished jade. She’s almost as gorgeous as the blonde, and I suddenly feel intimidated and way out of my depth. I had no idea Sapphire Bay was full of supermodels. The blonde turns back to me with a smile on her face that doesn’t quite reach her eyes.
“I’m Olivia Gibbons, and this is my BFF Victoria Rush,” she says, like I should know who they are.
“Winter,” I reply. “Winter Keating.”
“Winter? That’s such a pretty name,” says Olivia. “And you have gorgeous eyes.”
“Totally pretty,” Victoria agrees. “And your cheekbones are to die for.”
“Ummm… thanks.”
“So, what brought you to Sapphire Bay?” Olivia asks.
I clear my throat and look away for a moment. The last thing I intend to do is open up and share my life story with people I don’t even know. I haven’t even told Bonnie everything. But Olivia and Victoria are staring at me like they fully expect me to lay myself bare. And as I look at the expectant expressions on their faces, I get the feeling these two don’t hear the word no very often – if ever – and probably always get their way.
Still, I’m not the type who flings open the gates to my innermost secrets five minutes after meeting somebody, no matter who’s asking. I know that maybe I’m paranoid or unduly suspicious of people, but to me, that kind of trust takes time to build.
“My mom got a new job up here,” is all I tell them.
“What does your dad do?” asks Victoria.
I chew on my bottom lip for a moment. “He – he died.”
They both have the good grace to look abashed for a moment, and they look away. But a moment later, they turn back to me and I can see the questions burning in their eyes.
“How did he die?”
“Victoria!” Olivia scolds, sounding scandalized. “Don’t be so insensitive and tacky.”
“It’s okay,” I tell her. “He was a firefighter. He died in the line of duty.”
It’s a small fact that costs me nothing to tell them. A simple Google search would have given them that little nugget about me, if they were so inclined to look me up. But at least it’s a factoid about my life that has them suddenly looking somewhat awkward.
“Sorry,” Victoria says softly.
“Maybe next time you’ll think before you open your mouth and ask stupid questions.” Olivia snaps, and then turns to me. “Sorry about her. She was born without the tact gene.”
I laugh. “It’s okay. I’m used to getting that question.”
A middle-aged man with thinning hair in a rumpled suit walks in, closing the door behind him, and steps to the desk at the front of the room. He sets his bag down and then turns to us, a dour look on his face.
“Good morning and welcome to another scintillating year I’m sure we’ll all enjoy,” he intones in a surprisingly deep voice as the class groans. “I’m Mr. Breem, and this is U.S. History. If you’re not supposed to be in U.S. History, get out and figure out where you’re supposed to be.”
He’s kind of funny and I think I could like Mr. Breem, but the rest of what he says is lost on me since I spend most of the class period talking to Olivia. Or rather, listening to her talk. Mostly about herself. But that’s fine, at least it keeps the focus off me. When the bell rings, I gather up my things and stuff them all into my bag. Olivia gets to her feet and flashes me a thousand-watt smile I’m sure has gotten plenty of guys to do whatever she asked.
“You should totally sit with us during lunch sometime.” Her tone makes it sound like an order, rather than a suggestion.
“Yeah, that sounds great,” I reply.
“Awesome.”
I watch Olivia and Victoria glide out of the room, the crowd parting for them like they were Moses and his plus-one heading through the Red Sea. The look of pure adoration on the faces of the boys they pass is comical, and I have to bite back the laugh that threatens to burst out of my throat. I don’t think standing here laughing like an idiot to myself is going to do anything but make people think I’m crazy. And that’s a rep I really don’t want.
I glance at my schedule and try to remember where Bonnie told me to go. Hoping I had her directions right, I head out of the room and have to fight my way through the crowd, wishing that, like Olivia, I had the power to be able to make the throng of people part for me as I passed.
But then, that’s probably not a rep I want, either.
Chapter Three
“Glad to see you survived your first day.” Bonnie grinned.
“Barely.” I laughed. “But I have to admit, after blowing off school completely last year, it felt kind of nice to be learning something again.”
“Wow, you sound like a total nerd.”
I laugh again. “Hello, Pot? This is Kettle.”
We giggle together as we walk down Monroe Avenue, which is the main drag through Sapphire Bay, basically bisecting the town. It’s mostly mom-and-pop shops that line Monroe – a fact the city takes great pride in. They are big on their home-grown businesses, and nurture both them and their carefull
y cultivated image of Sapphire Bay being as wholesome as Mayberry, or something.
Of course, they have plenty of big companies, as well – there’s a Starbucks in town, along with every other big box store you can think of, but they’re all relegated to streets well off the main drag. They’re hidden like the proverbial deformed cousin forced to live under the stairs. It just wouldn’t do to have a McDonald’s and a Home Depot sitting on the main drag.
Bonnie leads me down to the local coffeehouse, Grinders. It’s a cute place, bright and cheery, and they make some unique coffee drinks – and, because it’s not that far from the high school, it’s usually always pretty busy. It takes us a few minutes, but when we finally get our drinks, we find a table outside.
I turn my face up into the sun and bask in the warmth of the day. Inhaling deeply, I savor the scent of the ocean that’s thick on the breeze and take a moment to just relax and unwind, letting the nervous tension of the day bleed out of me.
“So, what do you think of Sapphire Bay High?” Bonnie asks.
“I thought it was remarkably like my last high school,” I reply. “Except for the fact that there seem to be more rich, beautiful people here.”
“There are certainly a lot of rich and pretty people, that is for sure,” Bonnie notes. “And the stuck-up, entitled, narcissistic attitudes that go along with it.”
“Yeah, I caught a whiff of that.”
“Rather pungent, isn’t it?”
We share a laugh and I take a long swallow of my drink, enjoying the afternoon. Groups of kids from the school pass by noisily, yelling at one another and laughing all the way. Some of them disappear into the shops – Grinders is suddenly growing exponentially louder – and the street is filling up.
A white BMW convertible rolls down the street and I recognize Olivia sitting behind the wheel. Victoria, the redhead, is sitting in the passenger seat and there’s a brunette I don’t know sitting in the back. Olivia honks the horn and waves at me as they pass by. I give her a sheepish wave in return as Bonnie stares at me with a look of surprise mingled with horror on her face.
“When did you and Olivia Gibbons become besties?” she asks, her tone reflecting her expression.
“History class.”
Her look of horror deepens, becoming almost comical. “Please tell me you’re kidding.”
“What? She seems nice. A little self-absorbed, but nice,” I respond. “She said I had good cheekbones.”
“Trust me, Winter. Olivia Gibbons is a lot of things. Nice is not one of them.”
There’s a sharp edge to Bonnie’s voice that tells me there’s some personal history between them. Or, at least for her. I can tell that Bonnie doesn’t seem to move in the same social circles as Olivia. She’s a pretty girl, don’t get me wrong, but she’s definitely not going to be in Olivia’s supermodel squad anytime soon. But then, neither am I.
“Seriously, save yourself a lot of trouble and torment and just stay away from her,” Bonnie presses. “Satan himself comes to her for lessons in being an asshole.”
“Oh, come on, she didn’t seem that bad.”
“No, she’s worse.”
I see Olivia’s car idling at the curb a few shops down. A couple of girls are leaning close and they’re all laughing together. Yeah, she seemed pretty wrapped up in herself – Olivia is definitely one of those girls who knows exactly how pretty she is and uses it to her fullest advantage. And I can see how that might be off-putting. Hell, she’s the kind of girl I used to scorn back at my old school for being a walking cliché – the blonde, pretty, popular head cheerleader.
But, like I swore to myself and to my mother, this is a fresh start. A chance at a new life and at being a whole new person. Nobody here knows me, and I can be anybody I want to be. Which, to me, means stripping away all my old pretenses and preconceptions of people, giving all of them as much of a fresh start as I’m claiming for myself. Otherwise, that would be pretty hypocritical of me.
“What did she do to make you hate her so much?”
“Exist.”
I laugh. “Originally, though. I assume there had to be some inciting event?”
Bonnie sighs and I can see the anger still smoldering inside of her. Whatever Olivia did to her, it was obviously pretty bad.
“Whatever it is, you can tell me, Bon,” I try to reassure her. “I’m sure it can’t be as horribly bad as you think.”
“It was at a pool party in my sophomore year. I should have known better,” she confides with genuine pain in her voice. “I thought he really liked me.”
“Who?”
“Asher Davis.” She spits the name like it’s a curse. “We were fooling around in his parents’ room. It was dark and he got me out of my bathing suit, and then…”
Bonnie’s face darkens and her voice trails off as her eyes well with tears. Even though what she’s talking about happened a couple of years ago, the pain is obviously still fresh in her mind. Clearing her throat, she looks up at me, doing her best to keep from letting the tears roll down her face.
“He really made me think he liked me. Anyway, when he got me naked, he flipped on the lights and opened the curtains over the sliding glass door,” she goes on. “Everybody at the party was standing there looking in at me like I was some goddamn zoo exhibit. They were all laughing and taking pictures. And I know for a fact it was Olivia who orchestrated it.”
I reach across the table and take her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze and feeling a fresh outrage on her behalf.
“That asshole,” I growl.
“I’ve never felt so cheap or exposed in my entire life,” she admits softly. “And I hope I never feel that fucking stupid ever again.”
“This isn’t your fault,” I tell her. “You have nothing to feel stupid about.”
“Sure, I do,” she replies. “A guy like Asher Davis would never be into somebody like me. I should have known better.”
“Somebody like you? What is that supposed to mean?
“Asher comes from one of the town’s richest families; he’s the best looking and most popular boy in school,” she explains. “Guys like him go out with girls like Olivia Gibbons. Not girls like me.”
“That’s crap,” I tell her confidently. “Any guy would be lucky to be with somebody like you. This Asher guy sounds like a total prick who doesn’t deserve you.”
She gives me a weak smile. “That’s nice of you to say, but you know how the social circles in high school are,” she says. “It’s hard to move from one to the other. I let myself forget that. Lesson learned.”
“Yeah, a really horrible lesson,” I grumble. “Well, don’t worry – if we get the chance, we’ll make sure he pays for what he did. I don’t let anybody get away with hurting the people I care about.”
We sit in silence for a couple of minutes. I can tell that Bonnie is doing her best to re-pack all of that emotional baggage, so I want to give her a little bit of time. She takes a long drink of her latte and sets the cup back down gently, then looks up at me.
“Anyway, we got a little far afield here,” she says. “My point was that you need to be careful with Olivia. Treat her like you’d treat a rattlesnake, because she will, eventually, bite you.”
“Noted,” I reply.
“And, obviously, watch your back around Asher,” she adds. “He’s not very smart, but he’s charming as hell.”
I try to bite back the grin that’s threatening to spread across my face – and fail. I look over at her, a mischievous gleam in my eye.
“He must be very charming,” I say. “Enough to charm the pants right off of you, apparently.”
She glares at me for a moment but has no more success keeping herself from cracking a smile than I had. We laugh together for a minute, the mood lightening between us.
“That was pretty horrible,” she says when she’s finally able to stop laughing. “Really, really, really horrible.”
“Oh, come on,” I tease. “That was pretty brilliant.”
Bonnie and I settle into the easy rhythm of conversation we enjoy together. We talk and gossip for another hour or so, but as the sun starts to slip toward the horizon, we decide to wrap it up and head home. We both have homework to do and parents to answer to.
But, as we go, I can’t help but try to reconcile the image Bonnie has planted in my head with that of the girl I met in class. Sure, I can see that she could very well be a bitch at times – but could she really be the monster Bonnie is making her out to be?
Chapter Four
The crowd behind me seems more obnoxious and irritatingly loud this morning. As I stand at my locker, I’m bumped and jostled more times than I can count by people paying zero attention to where they’re going or people who are just too rude to care. Either way, it’s annoying me to no end.
“You should really do something with your hair.” Olivia leans against the locker next to mine, scrutinizing me from head to toe. “And I know a few shops in town where you can get some super cute clothes.”
I touch the ponytail that’s hanging over my shoulder and look down at my jeans and button-down, suddenly feeling self-conscious.
“Good morning to you, too,” I say.
Olivia laughs. “Anytime you want to go shopping, just let me know.”
“Ummm… okay.”
“Who’s your new friend?”
I watch as the most stunningly gorgeous boy I’ve ever seen steps up beside Olivia and drapes his arm around her shoulders. He’s tall, lean, and toned, with sun-kissed bronze skin, neatly trimmed sandy blonde hair, and eyes as blue as the Caribbean Sea. Combine that with a strong jawline and a body taut with corded muscle, and he looks a lot like a surfer boy version of Chris Evans – Sapphire Bay’s own Captain America.
Olivia takes his arm off her shoulders and drops it like a dirty rag, rolling her eyes at him. “Asher, this is Winter,” she introduces us. “Winter, Asher.”