by Elicia Hyder
To Be Her First
Elicia Hyder
Inkwell & Quill, LLC
Contents
Important Info About This Book
1. Blue My Mind
2. Crushes And Concussions
3. Smoke Rings
4. Mr. Most Likely
5. Bloody Knuckles
6. Dirty Dancing
7. Rhinestones & Glitter
8. Worst. Prom. Ever
9. Firsts
10. Sandbox Confessions
11. She's Late
12. A New Year
13. Sad But True
14. A Christmas Story
15. Auld Lang Syne
16. Drunk On Sunday
17. Senior Prom
18. Do It Right
19. Hooah!
The Next Book
Thank you
Also by Elicia Hyder
Important Info About This Book
Let us be clear. This story is a Prequel.
This means that while the story doesn’t end on a nail-biting cliffhanger, it does finish with some dangling loose ends.
The journey continues in the smash hit,
The Bed She Made
3 Million Reads
Watty Award for Best New Adult Romance
Copyright © 2017 by Elicia Hyder
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Inkwell & Quill, LLC
For More Information:
www.eliciahyder.com
For Megan.
I wouldn’t have survived high school
without you.
1
Blue My Mind
Bright blue nail polish was the only thing sixteen-year-old Journey Durant was willing to wear to show her school spirit. She wouldn’t even do that if it weren’t required to attend the pep rally in lieu of seventh period chemistry. Most everyone else at West Emerson High loved Fridays during football season, and it was evident by the spectacle in the parking lot. Cars were decorated with soap, streamers, and balloons in the school colors of red, white, and blue. Cheerleaders were in full uniform, football players were in jerseys, and all the teachers patrolling the lot sported blue or red polo shirts. Journey would never understand the patriotic color choice of WEHS; it was like the Fourth of July threw up all over the school.
Journey was perched on a brick half-wall, waiting on her best friend to pull into the junior’s parking lot. In stark contrast to her classmates, she wore a black, vintage rock t-shirt over a white thermal and ripped blue jeans. She had on her favorite pair of purple Doc Martens, and her short platinum hair had bubblegum pink tips.
She was swiping on a coat of “Blue My Mind” nail lacquer when Kara Robertson’s red sports car rolled to a squeaky stop in its normal spot. Kara angled out of the car, tossing her long brown hair over her shoulder. Like Journey, Kara stood out in the crowd—just in a more literal sense. She had been towering over everyone else in their class at over six feet since the age of eleven. Her mile long legs were on display underneath a short blue dress, which Journey knew was for the benefit of the football team’s running back, Justin Kruse.
“Hey, girl,” Kara said, smiling as she crossed the lot.
Journey screwed on the cap to the nail polish and dropped it in her backpack. “You look like a cast member from The Disney Channel.”
Kara arched an eyebrow and put a hand on her hip. “You look like a cast member from Cops.”
Journey laughed and hopped down from the wall. She and Kara joined the herd of teenagers heading for the bright red entrance to the school.
The two girls made an awkward pair, but they had been best friends since the fourth grade. When they started high school, Journey cut off her long blonde hair and dyed it purple. Most people, including Kara, assumed she did it out of rebellion against her parents. The truth was, she was tired of failing to fit in with the popular crowd, so she became the exact opposite of them. The change suited her.
The starting string of the football team was huddled around a table in the cafeteria, just like they were every morning when the girls walked in. Journey and Kara assumed their normal position against the wall, so Kara could ogle Justin from a distance.
Rebecca Ashburn, the captain of the cheerleading squad, rushed up to Journey and pressed a glittery blue sticker over the Grim Reaper’s face on her t-shirt. “Go Falcons!” Rebecca bubbled before doing the same to Kara.
Journey flinched and ripped the bird sticker off her chest. She contemplated sticking it to the wall behind her but slapped it to her forehead instead.
Kara rolled her eyes. “You’re so weird.”
Journey slid down onto the tile floor and rested her head on her backpack. “I know,” she said and closed her eyes.
A moment later, a shoe nudged her in the ribs. “Hey you.”
When she looked up, the quarterback was towering over her. David Britton was a life-sized Ken Doll in a high school letter jacket. Not long after Journey had sworn off the popular crowd, David had decided to befriend her in geometry class. He knelt down on one knee and tapped the sticker on her head. “Is this your idea of supporting the team?” He had a straight-from-the-dentist smile.
“It was a drive-by stickering,” Journey answered.
“Are you coming to watch me play tonight?” he asked.
“Nope.”
The smile melted from his face. “Why not?”
Kara laughed. “She’s grounded.”
“Again?” he asked. “What did you do this time?”
Journey sighed. “Got busted with cigarettes.”
He cringed. “That sucks.”
Kara was still laughing. “Tell him how.”
Journey pointed at her. “She left her cigarettes in my car.”
He shrugged. “Did you tell your parents they weren’t yours?”
“Oh yeah,” Kara said. “And when they didn’t believe her she said, ‘I don’t smoke Marlboros. I smoke Camel Lights.’”
David raised an eyebrow and chuckled. “Seriously?”
“Shut up,” Journey said. “It’s not funny. They took my car and everything.”
“For how long?” he asked.
She sighed. “Till I’m dead probably.”
“Well, let me know if you need a ride.” He reached down, pulled off the Falcon sticker, and stuck it to his own forehead. “I’ll see you around.”
“Bye, Dave.”
David joined the rest of the jock-squad at the table, leaving Journey to wonder—once again—why the most popular senior made it a point to talk to her every day. They were from two different social universes where David was the sun in his, and Journey was a moon rock in hers. His daily pleasantries made absolutely no sense.
“I think Justin got a haircut,” Kara said, snapping Journey out of a daze.
Journey closed her eyes again. “Good. He needed one. The way his stupid hair always falls into his eyes makes me want to go out and buy him a headband.”
Kara slapped Journey on the leg. “He’s perfect.”
“He looks like he belongs in a boy band.”
Kara sighed with a sing-song hum. “I know.”
Journey was just as boy crazy as Kara, only not as vocal about it. She wasn’t allowed to date, however, until she turned seventeen which was still over seven months away. Not that it mattered. No one was calli
ng to ask her out, but maybe that was because she wasn’t allowed a cell phone either. Her parents were old-fashioned like that. They were devout Southern Baptists and Republicans in the most conservative sense of the term. They had developed a strict timeline for all her major life events: thirteen to wear makeup, sixteen to go out with boys in groups, seventeen to date alone, and no kissing until she graduated. A cell phone was out of the question until she could afford to pay the bill.
The bright side to being the daughter of Randall and Carol Durant was they were rarely around to enforce their ridiculous set of rules. Just after her magical thirteenth birthday, when she was finally allowed to wear concealer and lip gloss, the Durants opened an antique store just off Church Street in downtown Emerson, Georgia. By the time Journey started high school, she was coming home to an empty house every day, cooking late dinners for her parents, and spending most weekends at home alone or at Kara’s. With her parents always working and her sister, Elena, living in Tennessee, Journey had little to no accountability at all.
Despite her lack of adult supervision, Journey hadn’t yet experienced her first anything. No first boyfriend. No first date. No first kiss. Outside of the youth group prayer circle at church, she had never even held hands with a boy her own age. But she was already planning for all that to change.
Kara nudged Journey’s arm and lowered her voice. “Your boy’s here.”
Butterflies took flight in her stomach as she pushed herself up onto her elbows and scanned the room. Steven Drake wasn’t dressed in school colors either. He was in a black leather jacket, relaxed blue jeans, and boots. Steven wasn’t the kind of guy who cared about the pep rally; he would miss seventh period anyway if he wanted to. His dark hair was long, and it hung straight down to his chiseled chin. He always smelled of cologne, tobacco, and motor oil. By some miracle, he was a senior, but he had repeated a couple of grades making him the oldest student in school. If he hadn’t been cursed by growing up in Emerson with a lousy family, Steven probably could have been a model. Instead, he was a mechanic and the town’s reigning bad boy.
Journey watched him saunter through the cafeteria and lean against the wall near the gym. She groaned with sweet agony. “He’s so hot.”
“Talk about someone needing a haircut,” Kara said smirking.
Journey’s eyes rolled back in her head. “I just want to run my fingers through it.”
Kara laughed. “I dare you.”
Journey had considered running her fingers through Steven’s hair many times since she first laid eyes on him in middle school. Unfortunately, he didn’t know she even existed. But sometime during her junior year, she was determined for that to change. Journey had plans…plans that included Steven Drake and her very long list of firsts.
· · ·
“The school called again.” Steven’s mother lit a cigarette and didn’t bother to look up when her son entered the kitchen just after lunch. She raked her fingers through her black hair that hadn’t been washed in days. “That’s the second time this school year, and you’ve only been going for a month.”
Steven pulled open the refrigerator door and retrieved the half-gallon jug of milk. He checked the expiration date before taking a swig. “So?” he asked as he wiped his mouth on his sleeve.
“So”—she took a long drag—“they’re gonna kick your ass out if you keep ditching school.” Smoke puffed out of the corners of her mouth with each word. She shook her head. “You’re gonna wind up in jail right next to your brother.”
He leaned over to kiss her wrinkled cheek. “Not today, Mom.” The smell of gin was mixed with the smoke on her breath. He sighed with disappointment but didn’t say anything. She’d been sober for almost four months.
Deirdre “Dee” Drake had been really pretty once upon a time—back before she married Steven’s dad. After years of a two-pack-a-day habit, enough Seagrams to trigger the early signs of cirrhosis, and an ex-husband who liked to teach lessons with his knuckles, Dee’s yellow skin hung awkwardly around the misshapen bones of her face. His mom was only thirty-nine, but she could easily pass as his grandmother.
Steven squeezed her bony shoulder. “I’ve gotta get ready for work.”
“Hot water heater’s busted again,” she said. “I hope you don’t need a shower.”
He pressed his eyes closed. “Great,” he mumbled as he walked toward his room.
As he passed through the living room of the single-wide trailer, he noticed a stack of envelopes on the table. He stopped and picked them up. The first was the bill from the electric company, which Steven knew was already overdue. The second was his mom’s disability check from the state. And the third was an envelope with his name on it. He noted the red stamp on the front. Lincoln County Jail. He walked to his room, kicked the door closed, and stretched out across his black comforter. His eyes strained to decipher his brother Brian’s chicken scratch handwriting on the notebook paper.
Hey little brother,
Hope things are OK at home. I just got out of lockdown for fighting. Knocked a guy’s tooth out. I have to go back to court for assault now, but it was worth it. Dude won’t run his mouth again. I need a favor. My commissary account is almost dry. So I need you to drop some cash in there when you come this weekend. Don’t let mom come this time. I have a black eye, and you know how she worries.
-Brian
Steven groaned and draped his arm over his eyes. First the water heater, then Brian. His paycheck for the week was already spent before he even had it in his hands. The principal wouldn’t be calling his mom for much longer; it was only a matter of time before he dropped out to go to work full-time.
He wadded up Brian’s letter and tossed it across the room toward the trashcan.
He missed.
· · ·
At 3:05, the afternoon bell rang dismissing the pep rally. David stood up from the bleachers as students scattered like cockroaches across the gym floor. On the far side of the room, heading out through the door to the cafeteria, was Kara Robertson’s towering head above the sea of red, white, and blue. David minded his steps as he navigated down the risers.
A hand came down hard on his back when his sneakers squeaked to a stop on the floor. He spun around to see his best friend, Marcus Garrett. A perky blonde in a cheerleading uniform was tucked securely under his arm. She was from the junior varsity team. Her name was Karie. Or was it Katie? David couldn’t remember. The girls of West Emerson flocked to Marcus like ants to sugar. He had a year-round tan, black hair, and eyes the color of antifreeze. Marcus always had a girlfriend, though the position had a pretty high turnover rate. It was no wonder David couldn’t keep up with their names.
“We’re gonna grab some wings before we’ve got to be down at the field house. You wanna ride with us?” Marcus asked.
David shook his head. “Nah. I’ll try and catch up, but I’ve got something I want to take care of.”
Marcus narrowed his eyes. “What’s her name?”
David rolled his eyes. “Shut up.”
“Bros before hoes, man.” Marcus quickly planted a kiss on Katie’s—no, Kasey’s—cheek. “Not you, baby.”
She blushed and gathered a fistful of the front of his blue jersey.
“It’s not that,” David said, turning back around. “Save me a seat at the restaurant.”
David jogged across the room and out through the cafeteria. Kara’s head was bobbing through the door to the outside. He pushed his way through the crowd. As he had hoped, the spunky, pink-haired girl was next to her. “Hey, Journ,” he said, reaching for her arm.
She stopped walking so suddenly that two people bumped into them from behind. Her hazel eyes widened. “Yeah?”
He shoved his hands into his pockets. “You want a ride home?”
She jerked a thumb toward Kara. “I have a ride. Thanks.”
Damn it.
He nodded. “OK, cool. Just checking.” He gave a little wave. “Enjoy being grounded.”
Her eyebrow
arched. “Uh. Thanks.”
Enjoy being grounded? How stupid are you, Dave?
She was still eyeing him with confusion as she turned back around with Kara. “Good luck tonight, Dave. I’ll see you around.”
“See ya.”
He watched her until she and Kara disappeared down the steps to the junior’s lot.
David had met Journey the year before, just after his breakup with Rebecca Ashburn. By lunchtime that day, the entire school had heard Rebecca dumped him in a note that was taken up and read aloud by their first period English teacher. What no one knew was that just the night before, the quarterback had finally scored off the field as well. Rebecca had been David’s first, and she’d dumped him before he even had a chance to tell his friends about it.
Journey Durant wasn’t the kind of girl who gave a shit about high school gossip, so she was the only person who hadn’t laughed at him that day. She had simply asked if he was all right and tried to cheer him up. From that day on, he made mental notes of all the ways she was different from all the other girls he knew. She was smart, unique, and completely unimpressed with him.
David hadn’t seen Journey all summer, but on the first day of school, he ran into her—literally—in the hallway. When she looked up and registered his face, she winked at him and said, “Look! It’s my favorite cry-baby.”
He had blushed for the first time ever in front of a girl.
Girls didn’t speak to him that way, and it caught his attention. The way her t-shirt dipped off her shoulder had hung in his mind as well.