by Liz Fichera
“Go away,” Riley answered. Her voice sounded tired, defeated.
I knocked again. This time, louder.
“What?” she snapped.
I reached for the knob, cold and polished. I turned and pushed the door open.
Riley was sitting up against the headboard on her bed. She clutched a white pillow to her chest that was half as big as she was. Her jaw dropped the moment I entered.
“Hey,” I said, weirdly casual, as if I popped into Riley’s bedroom all the time. I was expecting to see lots of frilly girly things and pink, but the walls were painted sky-blue. Artwork was taped haphazardly all over the walls—Riley’s artwork. Wasn’t expecting that. But Riley Berenger had turned out to be nothing like I’d expected, either.
Riley blinked at me. “Hey…?” she said finally, numblike, as if she’d just woken up from a coma. In the silent seconds that froze between us, she watched my gaze travel around her room and her cheeks flushed, especially when I took Grandmother’s dream basket from behind my back and walked to a desk in the room, placing it on the corner along with a pink rose. If Riley looked inside the basket, she’d find a new slip of paper wrapped around hers. “This belongs to you,” I said, motioning to the basket and the flower. “Oh, yeah. Mind if I come in?”
“Um. S-sure,” she stammered. Then she rose to her knees on her bed, letting go of the pillow and at least a half-dozen wadded up tissues. A notebook on the edge of her bed flopped to the floor. The pages fluttered open to another one of her sketches. “I mean, what are you doing here?” Her eyes swept over me. “And why are you dressed like—” she pointed at me “—that?”
My hands found the front pockets beneath my jacket. I hated to admit it but they were shaking a little. This was new territory for me. I wasn’t used to feeling so vulnerable—at least not on purpose. “It’s junior prom tonight. Remember? And you only told me a million times that you wanted to go.” Though not with me.
“Um. Yeah.” She stammered again. “But. Well…”
“Is someone else taking you?” I couldn’t even mention Jay’s name but it was on my tongue, along with the usual bitter aftertaste that accompanied anything having to do with his existence.
“Of course not.”
“As I recall, you’re the reason I was nominated for prom king.”
“And you’re here because you need a date?” Her expression fell.
I took a step closer. I wanted to make sure she saw the naked honesty in my eyes. “No, I need you.”
“So this is a pity date?” Her arms moved to her hips.
I took another step. “I want to take you to prom. If you’ll have me.”
Riley climbed off her bed. She was barefoot. Gray sweats hung on her and a pink T-shirt dipped low on her right shoulder. Her hair looked like it hadn’t been combed all weekend, which was probably true, given what Mr. Berenger had told me of her self-imposed exile. Instead of pulled back or swept behind her ears, blond hairs stuck straight out around her head like she’d just stuck her finger in an electrical socket. I wanted to run my hands through her hair. I wanted to know if it was as silky as her skin. For once and for all, I wanted…
“So you want to take me to the prom because…?” She stood inches from me, her arms wrapped around her chest. Her tone hesitant.
I took another deep breath, digging deep for more nerve. “Didn’t you hear anything I just said?”
“Every word. But your eyes tell me there’s more.”
“You’re right. There’s a lot more.” I swallowed. “First, I want to apologize for how I acted on Thursday.”
She raised her hand, palm toward me.
For some reason I grabbed it and her teeth snapped shut. I squeezed, just a little, when I felt her fingers shake. I looked down at her hand. Her fingernails were still jagged. A tiny lump rose up my throat, seeing them so short. “I was an asshole. I’m sorry.” Again, she tried to speak but I stopped her. “Let me finish, Riley.”
“Sorry,” she whispered.
“What I’ve been trying to tell you for the longest time—” I paused “—is that I’ve really started to like you. A lot. I’ve liked all the time we’ve been spending together, even the crazy times.”
Riley was speechless. I wasn’t sure I’d ever seen her speechless.
“It’s not always easy for me to say the words, but that’s how I feel,” I said. Her mouth opened again, a tiny O. She hadn’t been expecting any of this. “And I would really, really like it if you went to the prom with me.” There. I said it. I said it all.
Riley finally blinked. “You like me?”
“More than like.”
“So…you love me back?” Her eyes got wider.
I chuckled. An uncontrollable smile spread across my face. “Yeah. I do. I love you, too, Riley.” This time, it wasn’t so hard to say the words. “Sorry it look me so long to say it.”
“Wow…” she said, looking down at our hands, my fingers threaded with hers.
“Wow,” I said, too, because it was as though the Grand Canyon had been lifted off my shoulders.
Then her face turned up to mine. “You could be prom king tonight, you know.” I could see the wheels beginning to recharge inside her head.
“I don’t care about being prom king. I’d just like to go with you.” I stared at her lips. They were soft pink like her shirt. “I’m really not the prom-king type, in case you haven’t noticed.”
“Not true.”
“Totally true.” She looked toward her closet. “But I don’t have a prom dress,” she whispered.
“Well, I didn’t exactly bring a limousine, either. Or a tux. So I guess that makes us even.”
“But—”
I pulled her closer. I wanted to feel her body pressed against mine, more than anything. “Riley. Seriously. I don’t care what you wear. Go like that! You look great.” It was taking all my strength not to completely bear-hug her. “Please. Please just go with me tonight.”
Her cheeks flushed and I took another chance and pulled her closer. It would be just my luck if her dad was eavesdropping right outside the door, especially with a crazy big Native in his only daughter’s bedroom. I’d already won back a little of his trust; I didn’t want to lose it again.
“Please?” I said again. This was me, begging. And I didn’t care. I was wearing my heart on my sleeve before this girl and I didn’t care. This was me taking the biggest chance of my life tonight.
Her eyes moved to my lips and lingered there for a few seconds and I felt the heat rise up inside me again. Then a tiny smile curved at the corners of her lips and my breathing stopped.
“You’re doing it again,” she said.
“I’m doing what again?” I said, confused.
“You’re kissing me with your eyes.”
“I am?” Light filled my face, my chest, my whole body. All because of this perfectly imperfect girl whose hand I held in mine. “Well, then you’ve probably noticed that I’ve been doing it for a while now.”
“I hoped that you were.”
“How about if we try it for real?”
She thought about it for a moment. Then another moment passed and it was all I could do to remain still. Finally, she nodded.
I leaned over, drew back a breath, closed my eyes and slowly pressed my lips against hers. They were nothing like that time on the Mogollon Rim.
They were better.
I drew her closer, feeling the entire length of her body melt against mine. I was afraid to pull back and lose this moment. I was afraid to open my eyes. But breathing became necessary. Dammit.
Riley looked up at me, her palms flat against my chest.
My forehead stayed pressed against hers, eager for more. Hot skin against hot skin. Did you feel what I felt? Did the world just spin around ten times at lightning speed as it did for me?
She grabbed hold of my lapel. “Sam?”
“Yeah?” I pulled her tighter but braced for the worst, her body still molded against every
inch of mine. I braced to hear that I was the worst kisser, the worst dresser, the worst person, the worst everything. But Riley Berenger surprised me again.
“You’re perfect,” she said, and I lowered my head for another kiss.
Just that second, Riley’s dad knocked on the door. “Kids?” he said.
We snapped apart like a rubber band. Heat, zapped. The moment, lost. Quickly I adjusted my tie and remembered to breathe.
“Yeah, Dad?” Riley’s voice squeaked. She looked back at me with scared eyes. Was her dad going to bust down the door?
“Your brother just called.”
“Yeah. So?”
“Guess what?” Excitement bubbled in his voice.
Riley’s eyes were still locked on mine. We were still trying to catch our breaths as we waited for her dad to burst into the room. “What?” Another squeak.
But he didn’t barge in. “Thought you might be interested in knowing that Sam just won prom king.”
Riley’s eyes grew as big as moons and I was pretty sure mine did, too.
We both gasped at the same time. “You have got to be kidding me!” I shouted. This was completely unbelievable. Completely impossible. Me? Lone Butte High Junior Prom King? “Is this a joke?”
“No joke, Sam. Very real,” Mr. Berenger said, still from behind the closed door.
It was as though someone kicked me in the chest. I had to bend over and clutch my knees. It felt like I could be having a panic attack.
“Sam?” Riley whispered, her hand found its way to the small of my back. “Are you okay?”
I was half hunched over, still unable to stand. She led me to the edge of her bed.
“Yes. No,” I finally whispered back. “I have no idea.”
Seated on the edge of the bed, we listened as Mr. Berenger cleared his throat and then walked away down the stairs. “You still want to go to prom?” Riley asked me, still whispering.
“Do you?” I said, still dazed from the news.
She didn’t answer right away. I could see more wheels turning inside her brain and picking up speed, like a train getting ready to leave the station. That wasn’t good.
Then I said quite possibly the most difficult thing in my entire life. “If you want to go to the prom, I’d be honored to take you. Just say the word.”
Riley bit the bottom of her lip, watching me. More wheels turning.
My heartbeat ratcheted up again in full panic attack mode.
Another century of silence passed between us.
Instead of rushing to her closet to pick out a dress, which I kind of expected, Riley surprised me with six words. “I want to kiss you again.”
My world started spinning again.
Slowly, she wrapped her arm across my chest and the next thing I knew we were horizontal on Riley’s soft bed—well, I was horizontal. Riley straddled me. Mind blown! I was euphoric. My adrenaline was racing.
She leaned over, her hair falling alongside her cheeks, her eyes locked on my stunned ones. She placed her hands on either side of my head and smiled at me. I think I smiled back. I think I was breathing.
Then she leaned down and pressed her lips against mine. A heartbeat later, I reached up for her with both arms and crushed her into my chest.
Yeah, we kissed. A lot.
Again.
And again.
We had to make up for lost time.
In those moments, I realized that there would be about as much chance of Riley Berenger breaking my heart as I would hers.
We never made it to the prom. We clung to each other and kissed some more and in between we played chess when Mr. Berenger’s footsteps became suspiciously more frequent outside the door, especially as it got later. Who could blame him? But we never left Riley’s bedroom (and her parents never questioned it), which was totally fine with me. Riley won both chess games, by the way. I mean, chess? I was too busy memorizing the flush in her cheeks.
And prom king? Jay Hawkins took second place and he could have the crown with my compliments. I didn’t need it. I had something way better. I had Riley Berenger’s heart and that crazy girl owned every bit of mine.
The proof was tucked inside Grandmother’s dream basket.
*
Acknowledgments
Someone very wise once told me that publishing your second book can be tougher than publishing your first. For the record, this is true.
Once again, I’d like to thank my literary agent, Holly Root. I’d hate to think where I’d be without her steady guidance and superadorable Facebook baby pics that always make me smile when I need it most.
At HarlequinTEEN, I am forever grateful to Tashya Wilson, Annie Stone, Lisa Wray, Kathy Lodge and about 1000 other behind-the-scene people who acquire, edit, market, promote and generally just love the heck out of TEEN books.
To all of my Native friends and beta-readers who’ve graciously and tirelessly read multiple drafts of Hooked and Played and answered my endless questions about Native life. You’ve taught me so much, more than you know. If there are any errors in my stories, they belong to me.
To the wonderful and generous people of the Gila River Indian Community. Thank you for letting me explore your beautiful reservation and not minding when “that crazy girl driving the white pickup” crisscrossed your community, simply trying to get a feel and sense of the land after the first seed of this series popped into my head with Fred Oday waving a golf club at me on the side of Pecos Road.
To anyone who has read Hooked and Played, particularly Native teens across the country who’ve sent me emails and left notes on my social media. Thank you for taking the time to tell me your stories and sharing your personal experiences. It’s your letters that make writing books worthwhile and, frankly, why I’ll continue to write for kids.
To Arizonans and other readers familiar with the American Southwest, where my books usually take place. Many of the places mentioned in my stories originated in my wild imagination but most are based on real, live honest-to-goodness places. For example, Lone Butte High School? Wild Horse Restaurant? These come from my brain. Pecos Road? Very real.
To parents, teachers and librarians. Thank you for teaching your kids the lifelong joy of reading.
To book bloggers across the globe. Thank you for your tireless passion and support of young adult literature.
To the small but growing global YA Revolution crew, affectionately known as The Crew. Thank you for helping to spread the word about books with diverse characters and consequently demanding more diversity in children’s literature. Your involvement makes a difference.
To my family.
To my mom and dad. I miss you!
And especially to my husband, Craig. This one’s for you. Finally.
Discussion Questions
Riley and Sam seem to live in two different worlds, but they have more in common than they think. In what ways are they alike? What do you see in the story that shows they are more in tune than they first realize?
In what ways are Sam and Riley different from each other, and how might that help them to build a strong relationship? What obstacles do they have to overcome?
Why does Riley decide to help Sam win Fred’s heart? Where does she go astray in her evaluation of Fred and Ryan’s relationship? What could Sam have done at the start to stop her plans, and why do you think he didn’t? What communication gaps do they need to overcome and what aspects of their characters exacerbate the problem?
How does Riley feel about popularity at the beginning of the story, and what is she willing to do to gain it? How does her view change and why?
Social media plays a large part in many teens’ lives today. What does the author of Played show about social media through Riley’s experience? Did Jay Hawkins have the right to post pictures from his party online?
At the beginning of the story, Riley lets her friend Drew talk her into a BOTOX-like injection. How much pressure does society put on teens, particularly teen girls, to look
beautiful? What can teen girls do to push back? What should girls do?
How does the author make setting important to her story? In what ways does the setting complement the story, and in what ways does it affect the action?
Keep reading for an excerpt from HOOKED by Liz Fichera.
“Captivating, mysterious, fun and deep…for readers of John Green or any realistic YA
authors, I would highly recommend this new wonderful novel.”
—Fresh Fiction
Five Strangers. Countless adventures. One epic way to get lost. Don’t miss one of the most anticipated debuts of 2014, Let’s Get Lost (August 2014) by Adi Alsaid.
Available in ebook.
Four teens across the country have only one thing in common: a girl named Leila.
She crashes into their lives in her absurdly red car at the moment they need someone the most.
Hudson, Bree, Elliot and Sonia find a friend in Leila. And when Leila leaves them, their lives are forever changed. But it is during Leila’s own 4,268-mile journey that she discovers the most important truth—sometimes, what you need most is right where you started. And maybe the only way to find what you’re looking for is to get lost along the way.
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Chapter 1
Fred
I BELIEVED THAT my ancestors lived among the stars. Whenever I struck a golf ball, sometimes the ball soared so high that I thought they could touch it.
Crazy weird, I know.
But who else could have had a hand in this?
Coach Larry Lannon towered over Dad and me, his shoulders shielding us from the afternoon sun. “So, what’s it gonna be?” he said, his head tilted to one side with hair so blond that clear should be a color. “Are you in?” He paused and then lowered his chin. “Or out?”
I drew in a breath. Even though Coach Lannon had said that I could smack a ball straighter than any of his varsity players at Lone Butte High School, his confidence still rocked me off my feet sometimes. He wanted me on the team. Bad.