The Trail Rules (The Rules Series Book 2)

by Melanie Hooyenga

  I lift a shoulder, a weak cop-out to avoid saying the things that need to be said.

  “What’s going on?” he asks.

  Mr. Treich clears his throat, and I’ve never been so grateful for the interruption. “Settle down.”

  Evan runs his finger over my knuckles. “We’re not done.”

  That could mean the conversation or our relationship. I look into his eyes and nod. He faces the front of the classroom and I stare at his profile, mentally kicking myself. Evan is great. Why would I even think about ending things with him?

  Because you’re not happy, the little voice in my head whispers.

  But I’ve got everything I said I wanted, I argue with myself.

  Not everything, she whispers back.

  What’s that supposed to mean?

  I free my hand from Evan’s to take notes, but after ten minutes I still haven’t heard a word Treich says. I raise my hand. “Restroom please?”

  Treich gives me a disapproving look but nods. “No dawdling.”

  Evan tries to catch my eye but I avoid looking at him. “Be right back,” I whisper.

  In the hallway, I take dawdling to an extreme.

  I eventually find my way to a bathroom several hallways away, then take a different hallway back to class. I’m rounding a corner when I hear sniffling from the doorway of an empty classroom. I pause, not wanting to intrude, but Miss Simpson’s voice telling us to step up when someone needs help rings in my ears.

  The girl has her back to me and it’s dark enough that I can’t tell if it’s anyone I know.

  I clear my throat. “Um, sorry to bug you, but are you okay?”

  Her shoulders stiffen. Then her head straightens and the light from the hallway shines on her blond hair.

  Oh shit.

  I take a step back as Brianna looks over her shoulder and levels her gaze at me.

  If spontaneous combustion is a thing, I’d really like for it to happen RIGHT NOW.

  I take another step back. “Sorry.”

  She presses her sleeve beneath her eye, stopping the tears without messing up her makeup. It registers in the back of my mind that it seems like this isn’t the first time she’s done this. She lifts her chin but her lower lip trembles. “I suppose you’ll tell everyone about this.” Her tone is snotty but it doesn’t have the same venom as usual.

  I shake my head. “No. No. I won’t.”

  Her eyes narrow as she tries to decide if I’m telling the truth. I want to look away but there’s something about her gaze that pulls me in like a tractor beam. I blink, and her face softens. “Thanks, Mike.”

  I’m tempted to ask what’s going on, to make sure she’s okay, but this isn’t a random girl crying in the hallway. This is my former best friend, self-proclaimed Queen B of the school, and head Snow Bunny. I lost that privilege when I ended our friendship.

  I turn around without another word and hurry back to class.

  Trail Rule #5: Don’t trust the person who cut you off on the last trail.

  By lunch I’m ready to walk out the front doors and never look back. Leave my emotional baggage and start over at a new school where I can be whoever I want. Sure, I’d miss my friends—the few I have left—but it’d have to be better than feeling like a walking bag of turds who’s letting everyone down. Just once I’d like to know what it feels like to make a decision all on my own and not second-guess myself afterwards.

  Instead, I’m pacing the halls, avoiding everyone I know.

  An idea strikes and before I can change my mind, I pull out my phone and text Alex. Riding tonight? I slip my phone into my back pocket and immediately worry that my parents won’t let me go. I’ve already been riding once this week since they declared it a weekend activity, and considering I’m already behind in my homework, I should probably stay home.

  My phone vibrates with a new text but when I look at the screen, I stop. It’s not Alex.

  It’s Brianna.

  You witnessed my annual moment of weakness. Forget you saw it.

  My thumb hovers over the screen with a million different responses. I get not wanting people to know she was crying in school, but is it really that big of a deal? I feel like I should say something snarky to prove she no longer has a hold on me, but that’s not really what I want to do. And if making my own decisions is that important to me, then I should make a fricking decision. No bigs, I reply.

  The little dots bounce showing she’s writing back, then they stop. Start, stop.

  What could be so bad to make Brianna cry in school? And on the first day of campaigning for Homecoming Court. She and Austin broke up months ago, and even though I know she liked him, she never expected it to last past high school. Her dad can be a real dick, but that wouldn’t push her over the edge in public. No, something bigger is going on.

  Her text finally comes through. Can we talk?

  Okay, NOT what I was expecting. I don’t know.

  Not at school. Come to my house. It’s like she didn’t read my response. She just commanded what she wants and because I’m a good little disciple, I’ll do what she says.

  I glance both ways down the hall like she’s watching me, then take a deep breath. I don’t think that’s a good idea.

  You don’t have to tell Evan.

  I write He’s not the boss of me and quickly delete it. It’s bad enough I’m even considering meeting up with her. Dragging whatever’s going on with Evan into the middle of this will only end badly.

  Mike?

  Another text flashes at the top of the screen. Alex. Can’t tonight. This weekend?

  A frown tugs at my mouth, then curiosity gets the better of me. I reply to Brianna. Fine. Today after school.

  I’ll bring the lattes.

  Lattes were our before-school ritual, but her effort isn’t lost on me. Whatever’s going on with Brianna is bad enough that she’s pulling out all the stops to butter me up.

  *****

  As I pull into her driveway after school, I feel like I’m betraying Cally and Evan. But I’m here, so I may as well see it through.

  But I will not let her push me around.

  I park behind her 4Runner and text I’m here. The front door opens as I walk up the path, and I step around ivy that threads through the bricks. Their yard is usually immaculate, every blade of grass accounted for, so it’s weird to see the yard even the slightest bit overgrown. The flowers in the window boxes droop and if I didn’t know better, I’d swear the husks from the mid-summer tiger lilies are poking out from along the front of the house.

  Brianna’s standing in the open doorway, looking as put together as always. If it weren’t for the way she’s biting the inside of her cheek, I wouldn’t suspect anything’s off. That, and the fact that we haven’t had a civil conversation in six months.

  “Thanks for coming. Your latte’s inside. Still two sugars?”

  I nod and follow her inside. The Vines house has a distinct smell of lemons and vanilla—I think it’s a combination of the cleaning products their housekeeper uses and her mother’s favorite perfume—but both are missing. It’s like someone sucked the essence right out of their home.

  Two white paper cups with the famous green logo sit on a side table. Brianna picks them both up and hands me one before leading me the rest of the way through the house to the back deck. Oversized potted plants divide the large deck into two sitting areas, but again, the flowers seem like they’ve seen better days and the plants are threatening to overwhelm their containers. She sits on a cushioned wicker chair, one leg tucked beneath her, and I sit across from her. Every fiber of my being is dying to know why she asked me here, but I don’t want to speak first. Bri’s all about power and caving into my curiosity will give her the upper hand.

  Who am I kidding? She already has the upper hand, but at least I can control this tiny thing.

  She stares at the lid on her cup like it knows something she doesn’t. “I wasn’t sure if you’d come.”

  “I wasn’t goin
g to.”

  She looks up at me. “So why did you?”

  “Curiosity?”

  She smiles, a tiny curl of her lips that seems almost wistful. “That’s understandable.”

  I blow into the tiny hole in the lid, then take a sip. Evan teases me that I’m going to become diabetic if I don’t cut back on the sugar, but I save my indulgences for special occasions.

  Which this is not.

  I set the cup on the table between us. She doesn’t look any closer to explaining herself, but I refuse to give in. For all I know she isn’t even playing mind games with me, but there was a time I could anticipate her every move and my instincts tell me she’s trying to wait me out. Brianna Vines doesn’t give anything easily.

  After several excruciating minutes, she clears her throat. “What you saw earlier,” she waves her hand like she’s already dismissed the fact that she was crying in the hallway, “wasn’t a big deal. I’ve got my period and there was some drama with Homecoming. You know how it is.”

  Yes, I do know how it is, but Brianna creates the drama. It doesn’t make her cry. She catches my eye, and for a second I feel my resolve against her start to crack, but I will not give in. “Sure.”

  “So don’t worry or whatever.”

  “Okay.”

  Her finger trails back and forth over the lid. I’d bet money there’s more to it, but it’ll take a crowbar to pry it out of her. “Anyway, are you excited for Homecoming?”

  So now we’re chit-chatting? I shrug. “Yeah, I mean, who doesn’t love to get dressed up?” My eyes widen. I haven’t begun to think about a dress. Shopping with Cally will be totally different than with Brianna or Kenzie.

  She leans back in her chair, in her element now that I’ve mentioned clothes. “I’ve had my dress picked out since last year. It’s technically a prom dress but I had it shortened so it’s cocktail length.” Her mother’s never had a hair out of place or worn the wrong style anything to an event, so it’s not surprising she knows all this, but I sometimes wonder where she stores all this frivolous information.

  “Who are you going with?”

  She laughs, but it’s what I refer to as her public laugh. All for show. “I’m thinking of just going stag this year. Maybe get a limo with Kenz and make it a girls’ night.” Her gaze drops to her cup and she takes a long drink. For a person who cares about appearances as much as Brianna, this is all off. No date, no limo packed with friends—just two mean girls alone in a stretch limo. My senses hum trying to read between the lines but Brianna’s given me all she’s going to. She straightens in her chair. “I assume you’re going with Cally and Blake?” Her voice tenses when she says Blake’s name, like she’s fighting not to sneer.

  I can’t help myself. “You mean the Slope Rats?”

  She rolls her eyes. “That was Kenzie.”

  I snort and roll my eyes back at her. “Right.”

  “Really.” She picks at the edge of the lid with her pink fingernail. “The crew’s kind of fallen apart, so what’s the point?”

  Is that what this is about?

  “Sometimes it feels like a lot of effort, and for what?”

  Mentally my jaw drops. Is Brianna actually tired of ruling the school? “Exactly. Remember when I stopped being a Snow Bunny?”

  “Vividly.”

  My voice softens. “Are you going to tell me what’s really going on?”

  She presses so hard on the lid it pops off, and she sets the cup on the table. “I wouldn’t know where to start.”

  She meets my eyes and there’s no sign of the Queen B, just the girl from middle school who invited me to sit with her on my first day at a new school. This is getting too real and if I don’t step away to clear my head, she’s going to pull me back in. And too much has happened for me to get sucked back into her world. “I need to use the bathroom.”

  She gestures at the house. “You know where it is. But use mine. The downstairs one is being remodeled.”

  My feet carry me through the foyer and up the stairs to her bedroom on autopilot. I’ve been up here a million times but it feels wrong now. Like I shouldn’t be here alone, not after all this time. Her room looks the same as always—white canopy bed in the center of the room flanked by an overstuffed chair on one side and a walk-in closet the size of some small homes on the other. Clothes are strewn on the floor—no doubt from deciding the perfect First Day of Campaigning outfit—and my gaze falls on a bunch of bracelets and rings on top of her dresser. The bracelets are leather with a piece of metal with etched words like Brave, Love, and Peace, and the rings are large chunky pieces—all completely unlike the “classic” pieces with real gemstones that she wears. This stuff looks like it came from one of the shops downtown, not a jeweler. Very unlike Brianna.

  I trail my finger over a bracelet with the word Courage and wish for a moment that it was mine. I could use the daily—or hourly, or minutely—reminder.

  A door slams downstairs and I hustle to the bathroom. A cloud of Brianna stops me cold. Her perfume, shampoo, and every other product she uses mix together to create a floral, woodsy smell that is uniquely Bri and I’m transported back to the days of hanging out in her room and talking about everything and nothing. I shake my head and get out of there as fast as I can. If I inhale that too long I might forget all the nasty things she’s done.

  Brianna’s mom is walking through the foyer when I get downstairs. “Oh, hello Mikayla.” Another adult who refuses to call me by my preferred name.

  “Hi, Mrs. Vines. Is Bri still outside?”

  “Yes, dear.” I start to walk away and she calls after me. “It’s good to see you again. We’ve missed you around here.”

  I do a double take but keep walking.

  I’m not getting sucked back in.

  Brianna’s still sitting where I left her.

  “Thanks for the latte, but I’ve gotta run.”

  She stands, disappointment darkening her features, but then it’s gone and she gives me a soft smile. “Thanks for coming.”

  I nod, then head back inside, leaving her on the deck. The door to the downstairs bathroom is open a crack and I can’t resist peeking inside. When the Vines renovate, they do it right, and I’m curious what the latest designs are. But when I open the door, the bathroom looks the same as always. The hand towels are rumpled and an empty toilet paper tube sits on the back of the toilet, and—most surprisingly—it doesn’t smell like it’s been cleaned in the past month. I close the door until the latch clicks, and back right into Brianna.

  “I thought you were leaving?” Her arms cross over her chest and the Medusa glare is on full force, whatever moment we had earlier gone.

  “I thought I had foam on my chin.”

  Her glare relaxes a shade, but she doesn’t move.

  “Sorry, I wanted to see what you were having done.”

  “Thanks for coming.” She glances at the front door and I scurry outside.

  Why would she lie?

  I pull out of the driveway, bursting with more questions than when I arrived, but telling Cally or Evan will require confessing that I came over here and I don’t think I can handle disappointing either of them.

  No, I’ll just keep this to myself.

  For now.

  My head’s still swirling when I get home. I park in my space at the edge of the driveway and pause near the open garage door. Mom’s car is already parked inside—at least an hour earlier than normal. I steel myself for questions on where I’ve been, but she’s not in the kitchen when I go inside and I’m not about to try to find her. Once safely in my room, I toss my bag on my bed to start homework when I realize I never texted Alex back.

  This weekend is cool, I write.

  When she doesn’t reply immediately, I flop onto my bed and spread my homework around me. I don’t want to do any of it, so I close my eyes and grab a book. Chemistry.

  And now I’m thinking about Evan. I’m not ready for things to be over but I can’t ignore that something isn’t
right. I reach for my phone to text him, but stop. If I can just focus for a little bit I can get through my homework and have the rest of the evening to worry about my love life.

  I’ve finished Chem and switched to History when I hear footsteps in the hall. Mom appears in the open doorway and based on the way her face lights up when she sees me, she’s pleased to find me studying. “Your sister’s coming for dinner tonight.”

  Is it possible to be excited to see someone but also dread it? Because that’s how I feel. I love Madison, I do, but she’s always been an overachiever, which has made my less-than attitude even more obvious. All I want is to fly under the radar.

  Mom’s still waiting for a response, so I force a smile. “Great. Need help with dinner?”

  She gestures at my books. “Nope, you keep study—”

  My phone dings with a text. Then another.

  And another.

  Her smile droops. “Mike…” She exhales slowly. “We talked about this.”

  I sit up straight. “I’m studying! I can’t control when people text. I haven’t looked at my phone, right?”

  She sighs again. “We’re worried about you.”

  “I know, but I wish you wouldn’t. I’ll come down when Madison gets here.”

  “Okay.” She grips the doorframe like she wants to say more, but turns away and heads downstairs.

  I grab my phone. Alex, Cally, and Evan all managed to text at the exact same time.

  Alex first. Awesome. Bring friends and we’ll get a group together.

  Part of me wants to keep her to myself, but riding with a group could be fun, too. I send a thumbs-up emoji and move to Cally’s message.

  How goes the atoning?

  I think I’ve reverted. I want to tell her how off things seemed at Brianna’s, but that would require telling her I was at Brianna’s, and my gut tells me I should keep that to myself for now.

  Is that even possible?

  I tried to apologize to Evan and he called me a bitch.

  What!?

  Accidentally.

  Not possible.

  That he called me a bitch or that it was accidental?

  Both, I guess. The three dots bounce as she writes but when the message finally comes through it’s only six words. Do you wanna talk about it?