Chasing Ivy (Oak Hill, #1)

by S. J. Sylvis

  Chasing Ivy

  Copyright © 2018 S.J. Sylvis

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form including electronic or mechanical, without written permission from the publisher, except in case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. This work is a piece of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Published: S.J. Sylvis 2018

  sjsylvisbooks@gmail.com

  Cover Design: S.J. Sylvis

  Editing: Stephanie McFarlin, editS

  Chasing Ivy

  by S.J. Sylvis

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgements

  Author’s Note

  Keep in touch with S.J. Sylvis

  Prologue

  Ivy

  The barely-there sun was peeking above the ever-expanding cornfields that laid just below the schoolgrounds, which only intensified the nervous jitters bouncing around my stomach to a point of no return. I’d spent all morning working on my hair, making sure that the waves and bumps were long gone and burnt to a crisp by my straightener.

  I’d never really cared how I looked for school, until this year. My mom fussed at me this morning while standing back against the doorway to our upstairs bathroom.

  “You’re growing up so fast, Ivy. Seventh grade.”

  She held her hand over her heart while her eyes filled up with tears. I groaned and continued to run the straightener through my hair.

  “Do my hair, too! Please!”

  I groaned again. My little sister, Mia, always wanted to be like me. It didn’t matter what it was. She wanted to do everything I did. It was annoying most of the time, but I still found a little sliver of my big-sisterly love hanging around in the background and braided her hair before my mom loaded us up in the mini-van and ventured toward school on old, curvy back roads.

  Those curvy roads did nothing to help my already queasy stomach. Why was the first day of school always so nerve-wracking to me? It wasn’t like I was going to a new school. I’d still see the same ol’ friends that I’d gone to elementary school with. I’d still be able to sit with them at lunch, and I’d still be able to walk to my classes with their arms interlocking with mine.

  This year was so different, though. The usual butterflies that I got on the first day of school were flying around my stomach at triple speed. This was the first year I’d be sharing a hallway with the eighth graders.

  They were intimidating.

  They were bigger than me and they ran the school. I couldn’t wait until next year. Next year, I’d be the one running the school (okay, probably not but I could pretend), and all the seventh graders would be just as nervous as I was, right now.

  Or maybe not. Maybe I was just weird.

  My friends didn’t seem nearly as nervous as I was.

  Casey and Becca were waiting for me outside the side door with their backpacks slung across their backs. They smiled brightly when I opened up the van’s passenger door and hopped down, welcoming the cool morning air.

  I took a huge gulp of air and turned around, smiling wearily at my mom.

  “Have a great first day, sweetie. Remember to—”

  I giggled, interrupting her. “Remember to be nice. Yes, Mom. I know. You’ve been telling me that every day for the last eight years of my life.” I let out an exasperated sigh and waved to my little sister in the backseat.

  Mia would be dropped off in a few minutes at the grade school that was only a half a mile from the middle school. She was a few years younger than I was, so it’d be a while before she was in my position.

  I adjusted my jeans and brand new purple shirt right before my mom sped off. I walked up to my two best friends with a nervous smile plastered on my face.

  “Ready?” Casey asked, pulling the side door to the school open.

  “Yep,” I muttered, nerves completely going haywire in my body.

  The second we stepped foot into the gym, I scanned my eyes for an open seat. If you arrived at school before the first bell, you automatically had to wait in the gym until it rang. There would usually be a few teachers keeping watch (and by keeping watch, I mean they would be standing huddled together in the middle of the gym, talking aimlessly until the bell rang and then they’d walk to their classrooms).

  As soon as I found a seat, closest to the door, a teacher raised her voice.

  “Sixth graders down here, seventh in the middle, and eighth closest to the door.” Then she turned around and continued talking to the other teachers.

  I sighed. So much for sitting close to the exit.

  Becca and Casey both walked ahead of me, their sneakers squeaking on the freshly waxed floor. They quickly found a few open seats on the bottom bleacher. Thank God, I thought. Last time I had to climb the bleachers, I tripped and busted my lip.

  As soon as I sat down, I slung my backpack off my shoulders and laid it beside my feet. Casey and Becca were talking about what classes they had this year but I tuned them out. We’d already discussed this a week ago when we got our class schedules. Instead of joining in on the conversation, I looked around the gym, watching and observing.

  I’d always been a little quiet and shy compared to my friends. In fact, my mom told me that I was basically a phenomenon because she and my dad were both loud and outgoing. So was my little sister. She had some serious spunk, and then there was me…quiet, ol’ Ivy.

  My head swiveled to my right and I noticed the tiny sixth graders biting their nails and sitting like statues along the blue bleachers. I quietly snickered because I was probably just as nervous as they were.

  One girl looked over at me, with her small leg wiggling up and down, widening her eyes at the exact time they locked onto mine. Instead of turning my head, I gave her a reassuring smile and her body visibly relaxed. Poor thing.

  I then turned my head towards the left, watching in awe as all the eighth graders sat and conversed. The girls were all huddled on the lower bleacher, just a few yards away from me, chatting away. A few of them were applying some kind of lip gloss and smacking their lips together loudly.

  My shoulders fell. Maybe next year my mom would officially let me wear make-up. She told me I was too young this year, but after looking at Casey and Becca, I realized that I should have fought her a little harder. They were both sporting glittery eyeshadow and their lips definitely looked like they were shimmering under the gym’s florescent lights.

  As soon as I was about to turn my head back to Becca and Casey, my heart
stuttered in my chest.

  A few boys walked through the door and every single eighth grade girl stopped what she was doing and stared. A hush fell over the group and my heart picked up speed. It thumped hard against my ribcage as I glanced back and forth between the girls and the small group of guys. I quickly realized that these boys were the “cool” eighth grade boys.

  They surely looked cool with their backpacks slung over their shoulders with only one strap, the other hanging loosely by their side. One boy had dark, cut to the scalp hair and he was super, duper tall. The one standing beside him had dirty blonde hair but it was shorter, with just a little bit of bounce on top. Then my eyes fell on the last one of the group, who had brown-shaggy hair that fell gracefully over his forehead. Right when he walked to the bottom steps of the bleachers, he shook it out vigorously. My mouth parted a little as I watched him climb the stairs with fluid steps. He glanced down at the group of girls and he must have said or done something that I couldn’t see because they all giggled and huddled back together.

  I watched him for a bit longer. I couldn’t help it. He was fascinating. He looked like a surfer boy, only with brown hair, and I’d never seen someone quite like him before. Maybe he was new. He had a really nice tan, a tan that you couldn’t get around here with our Northern sun. I tried to imagine where he’d come from. California, maybe? He did look like a surfer boy. I could totally see him with a surfboard in tow, crashing along salty waves.

  Wait, why am I thinking these things? My entire body broke out into a sweat and a wave of heat flushed over my skin.

  “Hello? Earth to Ivy?” I sucked in a breath and looked over at Casey. Her chestnut colored eyes were squinted in my direction.

  “Wait, what? Did you say something?” I asked, trying to catch my breath.

  “Yeah, why is your face so red?” she questioned, squinting her glittery blue eyeshadowed eyes. I shrugged and then blatantly lied.

  “I’m hot.”

  Oh my gosh. What is wrong with me? What is happening? My legs suddenly felt like two giant Jell-O globs sticking out from the rest of my body.

  She laughed. “Well, then, take off your jacket.”

  Right before I started to strip down, trying to calm my irregular breathing, the bell sounded over the speakers with a shrill ring. I jumped instantly and noticed the teachers directing each grade to the doors in a single file line.

  I stood up, keeping my eyes directed towards my friends (and not at all towards the boy with brown, surfer-boy hair) and pushed my arms through my backpack straps.

  My heart was still pounding in my chest although, not as hard as before, so I was finally able to catch my breath, and thankfully, my body felt like it was resuming to its normal body temperature. 98.7 on the dot.

  I glanced over at Casey, who was joking around with Billy, one of the boys in our grade who we had gone to elementary school with. Instead of laughing at their rambunctious behavior, though, my eyes wandered over to the group in front of me.

  Just as Casey had a fit of loud, uncontrollable laughter, causing me to cover my ear with my lone hand, my eyes zeroed in on Surfer Boy.

  My heart halted in my chest.

  He was looking right at me.

  I felt heat burn my cheeks like I’d just stepped up to a blazing bonfire, and my stomach flip-flopped. I was frozen staring into a pair of sky-blue eyes. I was locked onto him so deeply that I didn’t even realize I was being a total weirdo, openly gawking at him.

  I gasped, realizing that we were still staring at each other for what was far longer than normal, so I hurriedly snapped my head to Casey and Billy. They were still joking around with one another, and by joking, I mean flirting.

  Forcing out a few laughs with them and the other friends surrounding us, I tried really hard not to let what had just happened go to my head. Even though all I did was make eye contact with Surfer Boy, I couldn’t deny that I had felt a new range of emotions.

  I felt alive. I felt a fire burning deep within. Like the butterflies flying around my stomach had wings made of flames.

  Glancing up one more time, I noted that his back was turned towards me and he was walking out of the gym to go to class. A feeling of disappointment was rapidly approaching and I felt my shoulders slump, but then his head turned towards me, again.

  We locked onto one another and he gave me a grin that lifted me up higher than I’d ever been before.

  That was the first day I laid eyes on Dawson, and it definitely wasn’t the last.

  Chapter One

  PAST

  Ivy

  The hum of the air conditioner and papers rustling were the only two sounds in the classroom. Everyone was working diligently to gain the perfect score on their algebra test, all except Dawson. I could see him out of the corner of my eye, leaning his tall body slightly towards my desk to get a better look at my paper.

  “Stop copying,” I hissed, still keeping my attention on my final equation.

  He coughed and mumbled something only I could hear. “Come on, Ivy. Please.”

  I rolled my eyes but his pleading made me pause for a second. I moved my arm a little lower, allowing him to cheat his way through the final page.

  Dawson was smart. Overly smart, but he didn’t apply himself. He’d rather go to parties, flirt with girls, and hang out with his soccer buddies.

  Me, on the other hand… I was bent on achieving only the best of grades. I pushed myself and I studied my ass off because I wanted to get into a good college. I wanted to make my parents proud and most of all, I wanted to be a good role model to my little sister. What kind of sister would I be if I goofed off in school and didn’t apply myself? A bad one, that’s what.

  Finally, after realizing that Dawson had gotten up and turned in his test, all of which he had copied from me, I turned to do the same—but not before I checked over my answers three times, contentment settling in that I had, in fact, gotten every answer correct.

  The second I put my test on Mrs. Goodwin’s desk, the bell let out a loud screech. I ran over and grabbed my books and purse and gave Dawson a side-eye. He only smirked at me, which made my lips turn upward of their own accord.

  He slung his heavy arm around my shoulders as we walked out of the classroom, but as soon as we were out of the teacher’s earshot, I shrugged his arm off me.

  “You need to stop cheating your way through high school, Dawson.”

  He leaned against the metal lockers, crossing his arms, still sporting that stupid grin.

  “Oh, come on, Ivy. You’re my best friend. The least you could do is let me cheat every once in a while.”

  I threw my books inside my locker and huffed. “I’m being a really crappy best friend by letting you copy off me! You’re so much smarter than you pretend to be. Why is that?” I mimicked him and crossed my arms over my chest. He glanced down at them and then flicked his eyes back up to mine.

  “It’ll ruin my reputation,” he smirked.

  I sighed. “What reputation? You mean the one where you act like a dumb jock who doesn’t know his thumb from his ass and lets girls fawn all over him?”

  “That’d be the one,” he answered, while following closely behind me to the cafeteria.

  “Stupid. You have so much potential.”

  The chatter of the cafeteria grew louder as we made our way through the long hallway, passing by the clear windows of the front office. I bet if I looked at the ladies comprising most of the office staff, they’d all be craning their necks to look at Dawson. Not only did he have every high school girl drooling over his jock-like body and surfer-boy hair, he had all the grown women, too.

  “You’re my biggest cheerleader, you know that?”

  I rolled my eyes again but then I abruptly stopped moving my feet towards the lunchroom. Dawson kept moving, making it halfway to his table, which was already full of guys wearing their blue letterman jackets, before pausing and looking back at me.

  He mouthed, “What’s wrong?”

  My h
eart jumped in my chest and I instantly felt sick to my stomach. I looked from Dawson and then to another lunch table, only a few away from his.

  There was my ex, Tyler Holmes, with Breanna (aka my worst freaking enemy—like, seriously, she and her parents hate me) draped over his lap. She ran her hand through his straw-colored hair the second she saw me standing in the threshold and then he, not even realizing I was standing there, swooped in for a disgusting, sloppy kiss.

  My face flamed. It’d been only one week since we’d broken up and there he was, already cozying up to Breanna. I was the one who’d broken up with him, but only because he basically forced me into it.

  Tyler had been talking to girls behind my back (Breanna mainly, because she always wanted what I had, she just couldn’t help but place her sticky fingers on my ex), so of course I had to break up with him. What did he think I’d do? Stick around for him to cheat on me?

  Hmmph…by the looks of it, I was pretty certain he had cheated on me.

  I was no longer hungry and even though Dawson was trying to get my attention, I slowly started to back away from the lunchroom. It looked like I was trying to mimic the moonwalk on my way out, foot sliding right after the other on the shiny, vinyl tile. I was not going to sit down and try to eat my packed lunch while watching Breanna stick her tongue down my ex’s throat, all just to spite me.

  And I especially needed to make a fast exit considering everyone was staring at me. All except Tyler and Breanna. They were making out heavily. Where the heck are the teachers? Wasn’t that, like, breaking every single PDA rule that they had continued to ram into our brains since last August?

  Ugh. Gross.

  Once I was far enough away from the cafeteria, surely making Michael Jackson proud as heck of my epic moonwalk, I turned and headed straight to the doors that led to the student parking lot. Before my fingers even hit the handle, I heard a commotion. It was so loud that I instantly spun around and placed my hand on my heart.

  What was that?

  Then I heard the chants, “Fight, fight, fight!”

  I gasped. “Oh no.”