by Marni Bates
“So when is this date going to happen?” Scott asked, when we came up for air.
“Um—” I struggled to remember how to speak. It seemed so unimportant when his lips were within kissing distance. “I, uh, I’m grounded.”
“You’re grounded, huh?” He paused to consider this new development. “How long are you going to be under house arrest?”
“Just the next two weeks.”
“That’s too bad.”
I stiffened momentarily, in case he said, I’m not waiting that long for you, but this was fun. Let’s do it again sometime; then I ordered the stupid, insecure voice in my head to shut up and relaxed again. I trusted Scott. Even more importantly, I trusted my instincts too much to sabotage us over a few nerves.
“You know, I promised Mrs. Blake that I would bring in those photos of the two of you.”
A grin spread across my face. “That’s right. You did.”
“So I might drop by while you’re working.”
“It’s a bookstore. Everyone’s welcome.”
“Of course, I’d just be there to hand over the photos.” The wicked glint in his eyes said otherwise.
“Of course.”
“But I distinctly remember some parts of the bookstore being pretty secluded.”
I laughed. “I’ll have to reacquaint you with the memoir section.”
“Great, I’d love to read all about the lives of—”
“Scott?” I interrupted.
“Yeah?”
“Can we go back to the part where you were kissing me?”
“Definitely.”
And that’s exactly what we did.
Wonder what’s on ReadySet’s Timothy Goff’s playlist?
OK Go: “Maybe, This Time”
I love the line about the art of a good excuse. I tend to find myself repeating that when I catch myself stalling instead of doing some songwriting of my own.
Just Jack: “Starz in Their Eyes”
This song captures the very real pressures of a music career brilliantly. Don’t get me wrong: This is still my dream job. But being tailed everywhere by tabloid reporters who are hoping to watch us crash and burn . . . yeah, that never becomes easier.
The Kooks: “She Moves in Her Own Way”
This song reminds me of Corey O’Neal. Because he would totally come to one of our shows just to hear about my day.
She & Him: “Black Hole”
Okay, this is how I usually feel after spending too much time on the road. Luckily, the guys make me take a break every time I start approaching a burnout.
Sleepercar: “Stumble In”
Whenever I hear this song I want to stare out the window of our tour bus and watch the landscape change until I fall asleep.
Badly Drawn Boy: “The Shining”
There is something about this song that makes me feel wonderfully insignificant. For me, it’s the musical equivalent of looking at the Grand Canyon.
Ben Folds featuring Regina Spektor: “You Don’t Know Me”
As much as I love my fans, there are times when I find myself wanting to point out that memorizing a few facts about my life doesn’t mean they know me. At all.
Neon Trees: “Everybody Talks”
Great beat. Excellent pacing. It’s a good time. Need I say more?
Foster the People: “Pumped Up Kicks”
I really like the contrast between the dark threat of violence in the lyrics and the cheerful beat that underlies the song. It’s both disconcerting and engrossing.
Ingrid Michaelson: “The Way I Am”
I think this song is incredibly romantic. At the end of the day, all that anyone can hope for is to find someone who will accept and love them for who they are—imperfections included.
Chelsea Halloway is Smith High’s queen bee,
but all that’s about to change in Notable,
available this November.
Chapter 1
It was complete and total bullshit.
Oh sure, in the movies, the geeky girl gets the guy, but let’s all get real for a second: High school doesn’t actually work like that. No way. The absurdly sweet (yet popular) guy might continue being tutored by the geek, but he also keeps making out with his beautiful ex-girlfriend until they decide to give their relationship another shot.
That’s how it should have worked, but apparently my good luck had run out a long time ago.
Because not only did my perfect hockey-captain ex-boyfriend Logan Beckett reject me, Chelsea Halloway, but he then started dating the most awkward girl at our high school. Actually, thanks to an embarrassing YouTube video, the geek accidentally raised her profile beyond the hallways of Smith High School until she became best known as America’s Most Awkward Girl.
Yet he still chose her over me.
Did I mention that all of this was after I had poured my heart out to him? After I had groveled for breaking up with him the first time? After I had put everything—including my self-respect—on the line?
And what did I get for all my trouble? A big, fat rejection.
Maybe I had miscalculated by asking him to reconsider our relationship at his best friend Spencer’s party, considering that it was also the location of our breakup. But part of me thought that if we stood together in the gazebo, overlooking the fountain, and kissed one more time, he would realize that we were meant to be together.
I thought he would see that losing him was still hurting me. That regardless of the rumors that had circulated our middle school in the wake of our breakup (mainly that I was ecstatic to have traded Logan in for a more popular high school boy), I’d been a wreck over our split.
I hoped confessing everything would bring us back together.
But now I was finding out firsthand that it hurt even more to be dumped than it does to do the dumping.
Still, I forced myself to keep it together. Even when I saw Logan gently leading geeky Mackenzie Wellesley to his car, smiling at her with transparent affection in a way I didn’t think he ever once did with me, I pretended I was fine.
I did just what everyone expected of me.
I tossed my long, shiny, blond hair over my shoulder, sauntered over to the nearest, hottest, available guy, and flirted shamelessly. All the while fighting to keep my voice even and my eyes dry. A girl has to keep up appearances, especially if she wants to maintain her status as the most popular girl at school. So I batted my baby blues at some guy whose name I didn’t bother to learn before making my getaway.
My mom always instructed me that it was best to leave them wanting more.
Of course, she had said that in the context of my dance recitals, but it applied to flirting too. In both cases, it takes a lot of practice to hide sweat, nerves, and performance anxiety, but if you let any of it show, it kills the magic. It was a sad testament to my life that I had spent enough time faking happiness that I could flirt while replaying exactly how it felt to have Logan’s lips pressed against mine when I rose up on tiptoes and kissed him—a soaring hope that was dashed when he looked at me with nothing more than pity.
But fleeing the party in tears wasn’t an option for me.
I couldn’t cry over the fact that my perfect ex-boyfriend had shut me down for some loser brainiac. I couldn’t spend hours staring at the photos of us drinking hot chocolate at the ice-skating rink and smiling at the camera. I couldn’t even rant about the cosmic unfairness of realizing that I had never gotten over my first love only to find out that he had definitely gotten over me.
Oh no.
I couldn’t do any of that at home.
Because when I pulled into my driveway, I had something much worse waiting for me by the door. My dad’s suitcase. I have his teaching schedule memorized, and I knew for a fact that there were no upcoming academic conferences scribbled on the kitchen calendar for months. There was no logical reason for his luggage to be slumped against one of our enormous ceramic flowerpots.
That’s how I knew exactly what I was about to w
alk in on: The divorce exit walk of blame.
Not just a trial separation. Not a temporary experiment. Not something that would blow over eventually, like it always did.
And I was right: He was leaving.
I just didn’t realize when I stood in the driveway, numbly staring at my dad’s suitcase, that I was going to be forced into relocating too.
You would think that losing both Logan and my father in one night would forever earn it the dubious honor of being the very worst evening of my life. It should have been my all-time low. Rock-freaking-bottom.
But it wasn’t.
It’s funny how being hunted down by a group of certifiable bad guys in a third-world country can change a girl’s perspective on what constitutes a tragedy. Not ha ha funny, obviously . It’s more of a laughing is my only alternative to disintegrating into a million pieces type of funny. When your every decision is a matter of life or death, even truly ridiculous amounts of personal drama fade into insignificance.
Eat or be eaten.
Hunt or be hunted.
Hide or . . . wind up with a gun aimed at your head.
I found that out the hard way.
K TEEN BOOKS are published by
Kensington Publishing Corp.
119 West 40th Street
New York, NY 10018
Copyright © 2013 by Marni Bates
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.
Kensington and K Teen Reg. U.S. Pat. & TM Off.
ISBN: 978-0-7582-6938-6
eISBN-13: 978-0-7582-8913-1
eISBN-10: 0-7582-8913-8
First Kensington Electronic Edition: July 2013