Rumors and Lies at Evermore High Boxset: Three Sweet YA Romances

by Emily Lowry

  Trey had that effect on people. On everyone, really. It didn’t matter whether you were young or old, man or woman. When he sang, he had a magnetic quality that drew all the attention to him. He didn’t need a spotlight; he was the spotlight.

  I ducked past a waiter and continued to film.

  This was perfect.

  Click would love it.

  “I can’t believe you made me get in the river,” Dylan grumbled, his teeth chattering. Freezing water lapped around his ankles as he pushed the raft towards shore.

  “Stop whining,” Jordyn said. Their bickering continued how it only could between childhood friends. Chase watched their argument wordlessly. He was used to the two of them snapping back and forth.

  The raft bumped against sand, everyone lurched, and Trey gracefully leaped and landed beside me, his guitar still strapped to his shoulder.

  “That was incredible,” he said, breathless.

  “You were incredible.” I gave him a quick kiss.

  Behind us, the diners at Beachbreak stopped eating to clap for the band. It was a runaway success.

  “When I finish editing this footage, it will look amazing. An actual performance in front of a live crowd. I captured some of their expressions too so we can really drive home how much people love Stonewash Sunrise.”

  There was a cough behind me, and Trey’s face went from happy to white immediately.

  42

  Trey

  The cop approached. He was young, clean-shaven. His uniform was black, and he wore aviators despite the onset of the evening. They were dark enough to hide his eyes; all I could see was my reflection. And I looked as frightened as I felt.

  My older brother was always in trouble with the law. I remembered lying on our couch as a police car pulled in front of our house, the red and blue lights flashing once, then twice, before shutting off. Just enough to draw the attention of the neighbors. Apparently, they thought that public humiliation would keep my brother in line. You’d think exposure therapy would make it easier for me to be around police, but it was the opposite. My mouth went dry and my palms sweated.

  The officer took off his glasses and admired our raft. “Slick set up. Not very smart to raft down the Riverwalk this time of year. You fall in, you’ll freeze, and me and my buddies will have to drag you back to shore.”

  “We’re wonderful swimmers,” Hailey said politely. She spoke with the calmness of someone who’d never had a real run-in with a cop before. Someone who knew that even if things went south, her stepdad would bail her out.

  Like being wealthy was a sort of invincibility.

  “That’s good,” the cop said. “Unfortunately, if you’re putting on a live musical performance along the Riverwalk — even on the river — you need a permit. And they are not cheap, so I’m guessing you thought this little stunt would get you out of paying for it.”

  I closed my eyes and tilted my head back. A permit. We needed a permit. Why didn’t I think of that? If you wanted to play music anywhere in Evermore, you needed to have a permit or you were subject to life-altering fines. I exchanged glances with Leo and DeAndre. They looked as sick as I felt. Not one of us had thought to get a permit.

  My eyes landed on Hailey, who looked entirely nonplussed. She reached into her jacket and pulled out a slip of paper. She handed it to the officer. “Absolutely have one,” she said brightly. “Does that work?”

  The officer unfolded the paper, skimmed it, nodded, and gave it back. “Everything seems in order. Make sure you don’t leave any junk on the beach here.”

  And with that, he was gone, climbing the stairs to the main Beachbreak restaurant.

  “Are you kidding me?” DeAndre said. He gave Hailey a fist bump. “Dude, that was awesome.”

  “We are not worthy,” Leo said.

  Jordyn gave her a high-five. “The golden girl comes through again!”

  Everyone started gathering equipment and lugging it up the stairs to Main Street. Everyone, that is, except me. I stared at Hailey in shock.

  “No thank you?” Hailey asked, putting her hand on her hip.

  “We have to get everything back to the van,” I said numbly. “It’s not good for the instruments to be out in the cold.”

  I brushed by Hailey and headed up the stairs. It’s not that I wasn’t grateful — I was — but a million thoughts were running through my head. I knew from experience how much it cost to get a permit to play on the Riverwalk. So why hadn’t she said anything? If we hadn’t run into the officer, she would’ve let us go on thinking the concert was free. But it wasn’t.

  Why didn’t she say anything?

  Was it because she knew that I was poor? That I couldn’t afford to play on the Riverwalk even if I wanted to? Was that what this was — I was just her charity case?

  I arrived at the van and put my guitar in its case.

  “Yo, Trey. You all right, dude?” DeAndre asked.

  “I’m good,” I said. “Tired.”

  “Me too, dude. Me too.”

  Now that the thought was in my head, I couldn’t get rid of it. It followed me around like a shadow. I was a charity case. The boy from the wrong side of town. My entire life, I detested when people bought their way through an obstacle. I wanted everyone to be on an equal playing field, for everyone to earn their way to the top. But money tilted that playing field. Normally, it tilted it against me. But not today. Today, money was the reason for the biggest concert of my life.

  I closed the latches on my guitar case. Everyone was standing beside the van chatting about the concert.

  Hailey drifted away from the group. “You okay?”

  She slipped her hand into mine.

  “Tired,” I said. “Think I’m coming down with something. And thanks. We couldn’t have done it without you.” As the words slipped from my mouth, I realized that was the problem. I’d worked so hard for everything in my life, but when it came right down to it, I couldn’t have done it without Hailey.

  To her, I was probably just another stray that needed a home.

  The next morning, I woke to a ringing phone.

  “Yeah?” I answered groggily.

  “My favorite stray played the Riverwalk.” The sour sweet voice on the other end of the line was Lucy. Judging from the clinking sound in the background, she already had a drink in hand. “Have some serious bank and some serious stones to play a trick like that.”

  “Thanks,” I said. It surprised me that people were already talking about it.

  “Talked to the little doll that hangs from your arm. She says she’s putting out a video. But better than that, I got a few calls. Seems some people want a certain floating band to play Prohibition.”

  I jolted awake. “What?”

  Lucy laughed. “My people will call your people, darling.”

  The line went dead.

  I sat in disbelief.

  It was happening.

  We would play Prohibition.

  43

  Hailey

  The costume shop on Main Street had long and narrow aisles that were barely big enough for one person to squeeze through, let alone two. Costumes swayed as I cut through, their sleeves brushing against my arms.

  Trey and I were sorting through outfits for our Wuthering Heights project. Outfits for me, not for him. He insisted he wouldn’t be caught dead wearing a period costume at school. I glanced at him as he scowled at a dusty-looking suit.

  The night after the Riverwalk concert, I cut together a quick music video and blasted it through Click. Almost immediately, it went viral. Everyone was talking about Stonewash Sunrise. The crowds were sure to swarm to Prohibition for their show.

  But that was no surprise. Everyone was finding out what I already knew — how amazing Trey Carter was. Amazing, but cold. His thank you had come reluctantly. He said he was tired and worried that he was coming down with something, but I wasn’t sure if I believed that.

  Since that night, Trey had spent all of his free time rehearsing with hi
s band. I knew how important it was for him to play Prohibition — it was the start of his lifelong dream. But even so, if I was being honest, I wanted something more from him than a quick thank-you.

  Don’t think about it too much, Hailey. This was just how Trey Carter was. He was just stressed.

  Was he?

  Or was I making excuses for another boy? How many excuses did I make for Adam when we were going out? He couldn’t see me because he was tired after practice, exhausted after a game, or needed to study game tapes. By itself, each excuse made sense. But when you added them all up, it became a mountain that shadowed everything else in the relationship.

  Trey apathetically pulled on the sleeve of a grey cloak. What was going through his mind? I wish I could read him better, tell what he was thinking. I thought we’d grown closer after spending so much time together, but it felt like he was pulling away. Even our playful banter was toned down.

  “I’m not wearing this,” Trey said, frowning in disgust. “No way. Not for some stupid project.”

  I flinched. He’d been like this since the concert. Snappy. Almost… mean? No. Not mean. Just cold.

  Hoping that there was something I could do to thaw the ice building between us, I saddled up beside him and rubbed his back, my fingers tracing the logo on his hoodie. “You don’t have to wear a costume. Mr. Adebayo won’t care. Besides, if anyone asks, we can just say it’d interfere with playing guitar.”

  “Whatever,” Trey said. He looked at me, and his stony expression softened. “Sorry.”

  Trey Carter with an apology? Something must be seriously wrong. I rubbed his back again and rested my head on his shoulder. “The project will be done soon. Then you can get back to your regular English routine. You know, catching up on your beauty sleep.”

  “We both know I need it,” he said, giving me a hug. “Did you find anything?”

  “Still looking.”

  “I’ll check a different aisle. This one’s a bust.” Trey squeezed my shoulder, then slipped away and disappeared.

  I found an old-fashioned dress, pulled it from the shelf, and laid it over my body. It was quite possibly the least flattering thing I’d ever seen, but that didn’t matter. All that mattered was…

  All that mattered was what?

  My English assignment?

  My relationship with Trey?

  Something else?

  I fiddled for the price tag — not that it mattered. This one was on my stepdad. He felt unlimited use of his credit card and being a parent were the same thing. I took the dress to a body-length mirror and examined it.

  Who would I look like when I wore this?

  An absurd thought popped in my head — what if I wore this to Prohibition? It was ridiculous, but I bet Lucy would howl with laughter when she saw me. The idea made me smile. When I went to Prohibition, I felt like a completely different person. I felt strong, confident.

  But why did I feel like a different person?

  Was the Hailey Danielson that went to Prohibition the same as the one holding the dress in the costume shop? Or was she someone else? Who was the girl behind the costume?

  I didn’t know. I’d spent so much of my life wearing different costumes, I couldn’t remember what I was supposed to be like without them.

  Was that what I was doing?

  Was I just putting on another costume so I could fit into Trey’s life?

  The week blurred.

  Trey and I worked on our Wuthering Heights assignment when we could — which wasn’t often. He was too busy rehearsing with Leo and DeAndre, and I was slammed with daily double cheer practice now that our competition season was nearing.

  Our one silver lining was that Adam had given up trying to disrupt us and was now keeping his head down. Was it because he knew he couldn’t get under Trey Carter’s skin, or was it because his grades were suffering and there were rumors that he might not get into college if they didn’t improve? I didn’t press the issue — I was just happy to be left alone.

  The last bell rang and class let out. For most of the students at Evermore, this meant grabbing their stuff from their locker, hopping on the bus, and heading home. For me, it meant a trip to the Athletics building and changing into my practice uniform.

  The girls were already waiting in the gym.

  “Stretches, ladies!” I shouted. With as much fake enthusiasm as I could muster, I led the girls through a stretching routine. When I was finished, Coach Garcia took over.

  She crossed her arms, looking less like a friendly cheerleading coach and more like a drill sergeant. “You’ve worked hard all year. But now is the time to work until it hurts. First, we have our regional tryout in three weeks. And as you all know, you do well there, and we’ll be on our way to May Madness in Denver before we know it.”

  At the words May Madness, there was a flutter of excitement from the cheerleaders. The competition wasn’t as big as State, but it was the only time all of our most heated rivals gathered in the same place. Bragging rights were on the line.

  And yet, I didn’t feel the same excitement that the other girls clearly felt. I was the captain. I was supposed to lead us in competitions like this. So why couldn’t I match their enthusiasm? Why did I, the captain of the cheer team, feel like I didn’t belong?

  Coach Garcia led us through the rest of the practice, fine-tuning our routines. When we were finished, I changed and headed to my car. I was just about to turn it on when my phone vibrated.

  My heart beat sped up.

  Trey?

  I opened my phone.

  Not Trey. Click. And I was tagged.

  “Great,” I said sarcastically. “Let’s get this over with.”

  The blast wasn’t just one image of me. It wasn’t even one video.

  Instead, it showed several five-second clips of me put together in the least flattering montage imaginable. This was the montage the paparazzi would put together if they were trying to prove that a celebrity was about to break down and go to rehab. It had all of my most unflattering angles.

  Me, sitting in the cafeteria, stuffing chips into my mouth and wiping my stained fingers on my jeans.

  Me, practically asleep in math class.

  Me, in cheer practice, my expression so somber I might have been at a funeral.

  The video faded, and a caption appeared:

  Is the shine off Evermore’s Golden Girl? When you spend too much time in the slums, it’s hard to keep your head above water. Click to Hailey: You need to ditch the anchor and get back to your place on Olympus.

  44

  Hailey

  I parked my car and walked three blocks to Main Street, pulling my jacket tight around my shoulders. It was a cloudy Saturday afternoon in April, and Trey had sent me a text asking to meet at Prohibition. We hadn’t talked much recently, and when we did, we weren’t alone. It was always either in English class, where people were recording us and hoping to get something juicy for Click, or at rehearsal, where DeAndre and Leo were cracking jokes.

  I missed having him to myself.

  In fact, this afternoon would be the first time we’d seen each other outside of school in way too long. The thought both frightened and excited me. What did Trey have planned?

  I climbed down the staircase that led to Prohibition and banged on the door. The hinges screeched like the brakes on a dying car and the door opened.

  Haus blocked my path. The big man crossed his arms, flexing his biceps — both of which were bigger than my head. “Lucy’s little cat comes back. And what does it want?”

  I casually leaned against the brick wall, trying to project an effortless cool. “Trey called. Wants me to meet him here.”

  Haus raised his eyebrows. “Mr. Carter did not inform me of your visit.”

  I looked at the big man skeptically. “Mr. Carter? Are you serious? Seems pretty formal.” I examined my nails, pretending that I didn’t really care whether I got in. “You can keep me out of the rat’s nest if you want. I’ve got better thin
gs to do. Just thought it’d be nice if I dropped by.”

  Haus’s lips twitched, then the big man smiled. His smile was so perfectly bright and lovely that it was like the first ray of sunshine through a sheet of overcast clouds. “You are fitting in around here, little lady.”

  “I’m coming along,” I said, smiling. This was the game we played. Haus acted like I wasn’t allowed in, I acted like I didn’t want to come in even if I was invited. We bumped fists — just like Trey would — and I carried on into the dank tunnels beneath Evermore.

  My footsteps echoed through the darkness and I thought about what Haus had said. I was fitting in, wasn’t I? I couldn’t call Prohibition a second home, but it was close. And, if I was being honest, it felt more like home than my stepdad’s mansion ever had. I was becoming part of the fabric of Prohibition. At least, I thought I was. Maybe I was just playing pretend. It was getting so hard to tell.

  But there was no time to think about that now — I had a boy to see.

  I shoved open the door to Prohibition. The lounge area was empty, the bar dark. Lucy wasn’t perched on her usual stool, but there was a half-empty tumbler on a small table. Most of the lights were dim except for one. A spotlight, which was shining on stage, and thus, shining on Trey.

  45

  Trey

  I stood in the center of the stage, a foot away from the lip. The heat of the spotlight blazed on my skin and a bead of sweat trickled down my back. When we played for a live crowd, it would be even hotter up here. I imagined the weight of my guitar in my hands, the sounds of the opening chords mesmerizing the crowd. The cheers. The applause. The shaking ground as people jumped and danced.

  Since the first time I stepped inside Prohibition, I’d been waiting to play there. My own, designated set with a crowd that came to hear Stonewash Sunrise. In some ways, I’d been waiting for this opportunity my entire life. Now I just needed to make sure I didn’t screw it up.