by RH Tucker
Rumor Has It
RH Tucker
Evergold Press
Copyright © 2018 by RH Tucker
All rights reserved.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Edited by DominionEditorial.com
Cover design by James at GoOnWrite.com
Created with Vellum
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Epilogue
From The Author
About the Author
Chapter 1
Carter
“Shots!”
Jeremy yells out to everyone gathered around his patio. His parties have been hit and miss over the past four years.
Last year, he had an awesome after-prom party. Being juniors, he invited some seniors to keep up the ‘cool’ factor. Tonight’s party isn’t for any special occasion. His parents are out of town for the weekend, both of them realtors who specialize in commercial real estate. So, having a party in Quail Hill, a house that cost Jeremy’s parents over three million dollars–something he loved to point out when they moved in right before our junior year–always impresses people.
I look over at Matt as we lounge in a hot tub, the sun setting over the backyard.
"Dude, I'm not doing shots." I laugh. "If he'd held this party yesterday like he said he was going to, then maybe. But I'm not showing up at school tomorrow with a hangover."
Matt nods, looking over at Jeremy pouring the alcohol into shot glasses. I can tell he's thinking about it but then wraps his hands behind his head, leaning back in the hot tub. "True."
Matt’s my best friend. I’ve known him since third grade, but we became good friends when we started high school at Woodbridge High. Jeremy is cool, but he can definitely rub people the wrong way. And sometimes, whatever he says is just plain stupid or dickish. Sometimes both. But we all play sports together and have been hanging out since the beginning of high school.
I lean back, enjoying the hot tub. Another great perk of Jeremy’s parties. Summertime we could jump in the pool, but if it’s cold, we hit the hot tub.
“Hey, you got Mr. Hilton’s assignment from Friday, right?” Matt says
“What assignment?” I ask lazily, still enjoying the water.
We had an away game for basketball, so we left school early for the bus ride. Mr. Hilton is our calculus teacher and does not give any students slack on missing assignments. Not that our team deserved it. We weren’t bringing any titles to Woodbridge High anytime soon.
"It was, like, five chapters I think. He said it was so much because it counts for double points on your grade."
My eyes pop open. “Shit. What’s the assignment? I can’t let my grade drop.”
“Don’t you have an A in the class?”
“Yeah, but my graduation trip, remember?”
My mom promised that if I aced every class my entire senior year, she’d get me a week’s vacation to anywhere I wanted to go. We aren’t rich by any means, so I know how big of a deal it is. The only real caveat is that I have to stay in the country. I’ve narrowed down my choices to Miami or New York.
“Oh, yeah.”
I wait for him to say something else, but he closes his eyes, leaning lower into the hot tub. “Well?”
“Bro, I don’t remember. He broke it up. I want to say chapters twenty-one to twenty-three. And then … forty-five and forty-seven?”
I look at him, confusion across my brow. Why would the chapters be that far apart? Matt’s eyes stay slightly askew. I know he’s not drunk, but he’s probably buzzed.
"No, wait. Maybe thirty-six and thirty-seven. Yes, thirties, it was definitely in the thirties." He lets out a chuckle, at what I have no idea.
“Damn it, Matt. This is serious.” He gives me an apologetic shrug.
Scanning the party, I see our other friend, Lucas. I know he doesn’t have Mr. Hilton and neither does Jeremy. I recognize some other people but don’t know if they have that class. I could go around asking people, but I’m not a nerd. Not that I have anything against nerds, but I haven’t worked two years to become captain of the varsity basketball team and one of the most popular guys in school for nothing. Yeah, yeah, it’s shitty and shallow, but I’m not giving up my good rep unless it’s absolutely necessary. If it comes down to it, I’ll turn it over for a week in New York or Miami, but right now I still have options.
“Dude, what’s that guy’s name in our class that sits behind you. Craig? No, Carson?”
“Carlos.”
“Yeah, Carlos. You had that buddy assignment with him last month, right? Did you guys exchange numbers?” Matt nods. “Text me his number. I’ll ask him for the assignment.”
“You’re gonna do five chapters by tomorrow?”
"The class isn't until the end of the day. I got all night tonight and then tomorrow." Matt looks at me like I'm crazy. "Dude, just do it."
“Fine,” he says, reaching for his phone next to him. “There you go.”
My phone chirps next to my head and I grab it, sending off the text message.
ME: Hey, Carlos. You don’t know me, we’re in Mr. Hilton’s calculus class and I got your number from Matt. I was hoping I could get the weekend assignment from you. Thanks!
I want to breathe a sigh of relief, but I’m not sure how long it will be until he replies. Hopefully not long. We all look at our phones constantly, right? But maybe he has it on silent. Or maybe he has a limited data plan. Or maybe it broke. Thinking about missing out on my graduation gift starts making the stress levels rise as my phone goes off.
UNKNOWN: This isn’t Carlos. Wrong number
I read the screen and shoot Matt an annoyed look. I'm about to tell him when my phone chirps again.
UNKNOWN: Why didn’t u do the assignment? It’s five chapters long. There’s no way you can do that in one night
Wait, what? It's the wrong number, but it's still a student at Woodbridge? How crazy is that? Or maybe it is Carlos, messing with me. I don't really know him, so perhaps he's joking around.
ME: If this isn’t Carlos, then how do u know about the assignment?
I stare at my phone. Whoever it is has an iPhone like me, because I can see that they’re typing a response.
“Did you get it?” Matt asks, glancing over at me.
“Yeah,” I answer, still staring at my phone.
UNKNOWN: Only seniors take Mr. Hilton. Woodbridge has a senior clas
s of over 400.
I give my phone an irked grin.
ME: Fine, thank u for the statistics. Do you know what the assignment is?
UNKNOWN: I do
ME: Well…
And then nothing. I stare at the screen, waiting for a reply, but there’s no activity. No message popping up saying they’re typing. Finally, growing tired of waiting, I snap my head back over to Matt.
“Dude, that wasn’t—” My phone chirps.
UNKNOWN: Chapters 33-35, 38 and 39.
I let out a sigh of relief as I type my response.
ME: Thanks
Before I can look over at Matt, the water in the hot tub moves around, making me lift my arms up to keep my phone out of the water. Sarah Donovan’s tanned skin comes into my peripheral, as she slides next to me in the hot tube.
"Hey, Carter." She breathes out the words, in a blatant attempt to be flirty.
Sarah is a knockout, no doubt about it. Light auburn hair, gray eyes that flicker blue in the sunlight. Captain of the cheerleading team. She has the valley girl accent going on, and she's smart. And, as I found out at the beginning of the year, super interested in me. A little too much. I know, what red-blooded guy wouldn't want a hot girl, with legs that went for days, and a great rack that she's brazenly pressing against my arm right now? And it's not that I'm not interested because I was for a little while.
But she's like a yapping chihuahua, always barking to get attention. Actually, no, more like a rottweiler. Sarah can be demanding. She wants what she wants and when she wants it.
Maybe part of it is my fault because I did take her to homecoming. Unlike the rest of my friends though, we didn't go to any after-parties. We'd made a detour into the women's bathroom that night and messed around. If someone hadn't walked in on us, we probably would've had sex in there. Not my proudest moment, especially since I've never considered myself an exhibitionist. The girl who walked in on us quickly excused herself, but Sarah was still ready to go. I had to practically drag her out of the bathroom, to get back to the dance. And by the time it was over, I was over it.
I hooked up with a girl last year, which is what initially started the rumor mill and my ascension in the popularity ranks. So, at homecoming, even though I knew exactly how far we'd gone, I knew the rumors that were out there. Matt's the only one I told the truth to, letting everyone else believe what they wanted. Because believing what they wanted only helped my reputation.
It might sound crazy, but sometimes you don’t want the girl throwing herself at you. At least, I didn’t. A little mystery went a long way. A little pursuit. With Sarah, the only thing I’d be pursuing was how fast she’d stick her hand down my pants.
Matt looks over at me, as I catch her hand sliding up my board shorts.
“What’s up, Sarah?”
“We got here late,” she said, faking a pouty face, “but I’m glad I found you.”
“Oh yeah?” I say, trying to sound uninterested as Matt wiggles his eyebrows at me.
“Yeah.” She pulls her hand free from mine and places it on my chest. “Jeremy said his parents weren’t coming back until tomorrow night.”
“I know.”
Her lips find my ear. “He said he’d let us use his bedroom.” She nibbles on my ear, as her hand slid down from my chest into the water, over my stomach.
"Well, isn't he just a super friend." I look past her, over at Jeremy. He's looking back at me, giving me a salute with a cup, no doubt filled with more beer.
Her hand slides lower, her fingers sliding under the waistband of my board shorts. The hot tub has bubbles going, but it isn't like you can't see what she's doing. I push her hand away and stand up.
“Sorry, I actually have a homework assignment I gotta make up before tomorrow.” I step out, grabbing my towel, as she looks up at me with her fake pouty lips again. “Matt?”
“Huh,” he mumbles.
“Come on, time to go.”
Another reason I'm not drinking is I'm our DD. His eyes dart from me back to Sarah, and I know exactly what he's thinking. "You sure?"
“Yeah.” I nod as I dry my hair.
Grabbing our shirt and shoes, we walk past Jeremy and Lucas, into the house. A slight tinge of remorse hits me, feeling bad for how abrupt I was with Sarah. Turning around, my sorrow vanishes as I see Sarah already flirting with another guy, but her eyes meet mine and she mouths ‘call me’. I let out an incredulous scoff, as I roll my eyes and head to my car.
Chapter 2
Emma
I have a decision to make. Either go with my nearly worn out Converse Chucks or the scuffed-up Doc Martens. Today I feel like doing a throwback to the goth look. Black net stockings, a dark purple skirt that goes down just above my knees, and my favorite Star Wars shirt that has the original movie poster. Sure, it'll be a little chilly outside, but I'm going to be inside most of the day anyway.
I slather on the eyeliner and apply the darkest, reddest, lipstick I have. Okay, I do dab a bit of glitter on my cheeks, but I love that stuff. Now, it's about deciding what shoes to wear. The boots would make the outfit, but my Chucks are so comfy. I hear Jen's horn, honking outside.
Deciding on the boots, I quickly slip them on and grab my backpack, leaving the house. “Bye, Mom!” I yell, without waiting for a reply.
Running out to Jen’s Corolla, I fling my backpack in the backseat.
“Hey,” she says, pulling out on to the road.
"Ugh!" I groan, already feeling the uncomfortableness of the boots. "I should've gone with my Chucks."
Jen glances down at my feet. “Are those Doc Martens?” I nod. “You’re so crazy. You’re gonna be stuck in those things all day.”
“It went with the outfit.” I pull out my phone and start scrolling through Instagram.
“Emma, I’ll never understand you.”
"What?"
“If you were like me–”
"Yeah, because we all want to be Jennifer Harris." I tease her, twirling my hair with a finger while making my voice super high. ‘Hi, I'm Jen. I love sunflowers and macchiatos."
“Bitch.” She laughs.
“Right back atchya.”
“Anyways, if you were like me, or any other girl, I could understand your statement. Like this morning, it took me ten minutes to decide if I wanted to go with my pink top or that lime green one.”
“Glad you chose the pink one, it’s cute.”
She looks back down at my boots. “But you don’t have a typical attire. You dress based on who knows what, which is something I’ll never understand.”
“That’s not true. I just like to be random when it comes to clothes.”
“Tell me one thing that’s not random about you.”
“My Star Wars and Harry Potter shirts.”
She nods, pulling to a stop sign. “Okay, I’ll give you that.” She looks over at my phone. “Oh, did you text back Homework Stranger last night?”
I let out a scoff. I still don't understand why Jen egged me on to reply to whoever texted me. We just finished watching a rom-com movie on Netflix, when I received the text message. Other than being my best friend for the past four years, Jen indulged me in my movie watching habits. She put up with my nerdy choices, like Marvel movies or Harry Potter, but we're both rom-com fans. Right before the credits started rolling was when I got the text.
"No." I return my attention to my phone.
“Why not? We probably know who it is; you should’ve asked.”
“Jen, why? I’ve got enough friends. I don’t need to go making new friends with a complete stranger.”
"News flash, Emma. Everyone is a complete stranger until you become friends. That's how it works."
“Whatever. You know what I mean. I still can’t believe I texted him for so long.”
“So, you think it’s a guy?”
“I don’t know.” I shrug.
I really don’t. And I didn’t think about it much after she left either. Whoever it was needed the homework assig
nment, which I know there’s no way they’re going to be able to get done before class today. Those five chapters took me all weekend. Sure, I went to the art store with Jen on Saturday, but still.
“You should text them. See if they finished.”
“No.” I give her a confused look. “Why would I do that?”
"I don't know. Who knows, maybe it's someone who's even in the class with you." She pulls into the student parking lot, and once she parks, she turns and stares at me.
“What?” I keep my eyes locked on my phone, now scrolling through Twitter.
“Text, text, text,” she says, starting to pound the steering wheel lightly. “Text. Text. Text.”
“Ugh, you’re so annoying in the morning.”
“Only when I don’t get my macchiato.” She gives me an obnoxious smile. Raising my phone, I quickly turn and take a picture. “Hey, what was that?”
“Snapchat.” I laugh, as I grab my bag and leave the car, captioning the picture with ‘Without Starbucks, Jen’s a freak ;P’ and add it to my story. I know she’s going to yell at me when she sees it later.
Despite my best efforts, I can't help but look around Mr. Hilton's calculus class, as I walk into the room. It's my first class of the day, so if Mystery Texter did complete the assignment, he or she would probably look somewhat sleepless right about now. Taking my seat, I scan the room, trying to be as subtle as I can about it. Ethan, who sits across from me, quirks an eyebrow.