The Good Girl & the Bad Boy: A Sweet YA Romance (Jackson High Series Book 2)

by M. L. Collins

  “Thank you. Being a perfectionist, I know that wasn’t easy for you to do, especially because I did a piss-poor job of earning your trust.” It was such a little thing—a small column in a small school newspaper. But even so, there was a rush of warmth through my chest. Was this just an assignment and a working partnership to her? Or could this be the beginning of something more?

  “Hey, Lacey!” Chad called from the bottom of the stands. The guy was more annoying than athletes foot and about as hard to get rid of. “If your schedule opens up, I’d love to get together. The way we talked about.”

  Lacey didn’t respond. I wasn’t sure if she hadn’t heard him or was simply ignoring him. She turned her head away, until Chad finally left, and only then did she turn back, her eyes following him as he left the field.

  “Is there something going on between you and Chad?”

  “No. Nothing.” She didn’t elaborate. Just stood up and began moving down the bleachers. “Okay, well, I’ve got to get to Shady Acres for volunteering. Bye, Grady.”

  There was definitely something going on between her and Chad, and whatever it was made me want to punch something. Or someone. Chad, to be exact.

  12

  Sasquatch Eating a Snow Cone

  Lacey

  It took a lot to get me angry. Chad Pennington had done it. The guy was like a mosquito. No matter how many times I smacked him away he kept coming back, buzzing around in the most annoying way.

  I couldn’t explain any further to Grady without revealing information about Chad’s tutoring. Oh, yeah. Chad was diabolical. He knew exactly what he was doing. I wasn’t sure why, but it was obvious that Grady and his step-brother didn’t get along. So I came up with two possible motives for Chad’s behavior:

  He was trying to annoy or hurt Grady. Maybe he thought Grady liked me (he didn’t) and he was trying to make Grady jealous. Or now that Grady and I were getting along and becoming friends (at least, I thought we were) then he was trying to sabotage our friendship to hurt Grady.

  Chad was a butthead.

  When I got to my car in the student parking lot, both Bernie and Tracey were waiting for me. Neither one looked to be in a good mood either.

  “Hey, sorry! I totally forgot you both needed a ride.” I popped open the trunk to drop all our backpacks in, rushing since I’d probably made them both late. “Between the student government meeting and an emergency pep club session and then meeting with Grady about the advice column, it slipped my mind what day it was.”

  “Wait. I think I need to clean my ears.” Tracey tilted her head and stared at me. “I could not have heard that correctly. You not only went off your schedule, but you totally forgot what day it was?”

  “It happens,” I said, knowing that it had actually never happened. “You don’t have to stare at me like I’m Sasquatch exiting an alien spacecraft while I’m slurping on a snow cone.”

  I slid behind the wheel and secured my seatbelt while Tracey and Bernie got in on the other side. Once every one was buckled in, I started up the car and drove toward Al’s Garage where Bernie worked.

  “Yeah, I’m going to have to go with Tracey on this one, Lace.” Bernie looked at me carefully, maybe checking to see if I was an imposter. A very “who are you and what have you done with my friend Lacey” kind of look.

  “Must be some cosmic misalignment,” Tracey said. “Or the coming of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse. If that’s the case, can we swing by Burger Barn? I’d like to get a banana shake one last time before the world explodes.”

  I gripped the steering wheel. It wasn’t that I was freaked out about forgetting my schedule. (Okay, maybe a little freaked out.) But it was more the feeling of being caught in the undertow as a huge wave was about to crash over my head. Yes, I crammed a lot into my schedule and packed on my extracurricular commitments, but I needed to in order to stand out on my college applications. And I’d been handling this crazy schedule for over three years now, so why was it suddenly feeling overwhelming?

  “It’s okay to relax a little,” Bernie said quietly. Soothingly. Like she was walking on eggshells in case I was about to crack.

  “I’m fine.” I didn’t feel fine. I felt wound up too tight. I felt like a spinning top about to topple over. “Everything’s fine. I’ve got this. Everything’s perfect. Really.”

  “Okaaay.” Bernie shot me one last look before reaching out to turn on the radio. “Glad to hear it.”

  “Okay, there is one thing. There’s this guy that is driving me nuts, but once I get a handle on that, everything will be perfect.”

  “Grady?” Bernie asked.

  “Not Grady. Another guy.” Normally I told Bernie everything, but I was still so mad at Chad that I was afraid I’d accidentally reveal that he was being tutored. That wasn’t my information to tell. As soon as I calmed down, though, I’d complain to Bernie and let her help me figure out how to shut Chad down. “Why do some guys think they can be pains in the behind and get away with it?”

  “Tell me about it,” Bernie grumbled. “I’ve got one of those myself.”

  “Whoa.” I glanced over at her. “Is this the new guy you mentioned? The one in your auto shop class?”

  “Yes. It’s like I’m Velcro and he’s the fuzzy stuff that sticks to it and you can’t ever get it off.”

  “You and me both, sister,” I said.

  Bernie and I fist bumped when I dropped her off at work. Tracey moved into the front passenger seat and I pulled away and drove the few minutes to Tracey’s art school.

  “So, Sasquatch, how’s it feel to walk around like the rest of us normals?”

  “Please don’t start.” I heaved out a breath and clenched the steering wheel tightly. Too tightly. I wiggled my fingers to relax my grip.

  “Don’t start what?” she asked, her voice edgy because she knew what I meant.

  “You know what.”

  “Maybe I don’t.” She was poking the bear like she was looking for a fight. “What ‘what’ do you mean?”

  “Tracey…” I really, really hated fighting with my sister. But it seemed like all we did these days. “Why do you always do this? Pit us against each other like we’re in a cage match. We’re not in competition.”

  “No kidding, Little Miss Perfect.” She snorted her disgust and turned away to look out the window. “Who can compete with your 4.0?”

  “I don’t have a 4.0,” I snapped. Not to be snotty, but it was still frustrating that I’d lost it on account of Grady.

  “What is it?” She turned back around. “A 3.99?”

  “No.” I pressed my lips together before answering. “3.97.”

  Tracey rolled her eyes.

  “Why do we have to compete?” I asked. “Why can’t we lift each other up? Like we used to.”

  “Because you’re perfect and I’m not. Everyone compares us. And I always come up short.” She ran her black-tipped fingers through her pink hair with a frustrated sigh. “Grandma and Grandpa, kids at school, teachers. Everyone.”

  I wasn’t perfect. I was so far from it—I just did a great job of faking it by working as hard as I could and being involved. I was afraid if I slowed down, people might begin to see how imperfect I was.

  I pulled up to the curb at Art Attack and turned to look at my sister.

  “I’m sorry you feel that way. I don’t think people judge you like that though.” How could they? She was the sister with all the talent.

  “You know nothing.” Tracey’s lips twisted. “Maybe step outside your Lacey box and look around.”

  “That’s not fair.” I wasn’t the one who had shut her out. I wasn’t the one who’d pulled away.

  “Not fair? Seriously, Lacey? You’re so busy trying to be perfect that you’re missing out on what’s going on around you.”

  Silence stretched out between us as we stared at each other from opposite sides of the car. A few feet that felt like miles. A distance too far to overcome.

  “Thanks for the ride.” She s
lammed the door on her way out.

  I sat, waiting to leave until she was inside the building. And then I sat there long after she’d disappeared, running her words through my head.

  You know nothing. Maybe step outside your Lacey box and look around.

  Did she have a point? It was true that some days—okay, most days—it took everything I had to be…perfect. But that was all I had going for me. I didn’t have her artistic abilities or Bernie’s mechanical prowess or Grady’s musical talent to pave the way for a bright future. I wasn’t some genius I.Q. with a mailbox full of scholarship offers.

  I was perfectly average. And I was afraid it wasn’t enough.

  13

  Saturday Detention (Again)

  Grady

  Dear Mr. Jackalope,

  I hate living at home! My parents treat my little brother differently than me. It’s so unfair. What can I do?

  Signed,

  Big Brother Ready to Move Out

  Dear Big Bro,

  I’m sorry you are feeling this way. I’ve heard that sometimes parents have to treat their kids differently based on each child’s unique personality. Which makes sense to some degree. So, if that’s the case, understand that what works with you, may not work with your brother. Basically, get over it, dude.

  But if you’re living like Cinderella before the Fairy Godmother arrives, and your brother could pass for an ugly step-sister (not literally, but you get my drift) then listen up. Work hard in school, graduate high school, and have a plan: college, the military, or a good old fashioned j.o.b. Keep good friends close by. In the long run, you should feel sorry for your little brother. He’s going to be a spoiled brat and that’ll come back around to hit him like a boomerang to the face. You’ll end up a stronger, smarter, more self-sufficient human being.

  One Big Hoppy family,

  Mr. Jackalope

  “Grady, I’m going to need you to help move cars at the dealership this morning.” Barry sat at the kitchen table with the newspaper spread out in front of him while he shoveled forkfuls of pancakes into his mouth.

  “Sorry, Barry, but I’ve got plans. I’m busy all day.” I glanced at the clock, realizing I’d be late if I didn’t get my butt out the door. I finished my Cheerios, rinsed out my bowl, adding it to the dishwasher, and grabbed a banana to go. “Maybe Chad or Miles can do it.”

  “Can’t,” Miles said from the other side of the table, his eyes focused like a laser on the video game wrapped tightly in his hands. “I’ve got an important paper to write.”

  So important he could waste time gaming. Sure.

  “Oh, yeah, me too.” Chad winked at me when Barry lowered his face back to his pancakes. “I’ll have my nose in my trig book all day studying.”

  Barry gave Chad a proud nod, then turned my way and frowned. “What’s more important than your job?”

  “Saturday detention,” Chad said, looking smug. “According to my count, he owes at least two more detentions.”

  “Dude, you need to get a life,” I said. “Or maybe make a friend, if you can find someone willing to put up with you.”

  “That is quite enough from you, Grady. Come by in the afternoon, and you can get your hours in then.”

  “I can’t. I’ve got work this afternoon. It’s an all-day thing.”

  “Work? Exactly. I expect you to show up and do your job.”

  “Excuse me. What job? You don’t pay me. You’ve never paid me for all the hours I’ve put in helping you at the dealership.”

  “What do you think this roof over your head is? And the food you eat?”

  I turned my gaze to my mom, who’d been quietly flipping another batch of pancakes.

  “Mom? You want to add something here?” Please, ma. Just once, take my side.

  “I-It won’t take too much time, Grady. Just a few hours. It would be nice if you could help out.”

  “Well, I’m sorry. I don’t have a few hours today. My band is playing two sets at the Rock and Wrangle Indie festival over in Sweetwater this afternoon.” I slung my backpack over my shoulder and picked up my guitar case. “You want to come hear me play, Mom? I’m doing lead vocals on one of the songs.”

  “Oh, I wish you’d asked me earlier. I already told Barry I’d help him with the books at the dealership today.”

  I’d gotten into the habit of asking at the last minute. That way, when she said no, I could pretend it was simply not enough notice. But the answer had always been no since Barry came into the picture. Even when I used to let her know weeks in advance.

  “Mediocre guitar players are a dime a dozen. Most can barely scratch out a living.” Barry snorted. “It would be cruel and irresponsible for us to fill your head with the idea you’ll be any different.”

  “We can’t have that.” Of course not. How would they win parents of the year? “Okay, well, I’m out. Miles, you write the heck out of that paper. Chad, I hope the trigonometry fairy comes down and smites you on the head, imparting you with all the knowledge. Barry, sorry to desert you, oh Captain, my Captain, but I have faith that Pennington Motors will keep chugging right along on all cylinders without me. And maybe Miles and Chad—being the brilliant young men they are—will finish early and rush on down to the dealership to work like the crazy workaholics they are. Mom, enjoy your day.”

  I’d be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy the look of dumbfounded confusion on all their faces. Oh, yeah. My work here was done.

  Fifteen minutes and three Johnny Cash songs later, I pulled into Jackson High and parked in a spot up close, next to all the same familiar cars. Saturday detention was pretty much like in The Breakfast Club only with a couple of redneck cowboys thrown in.

  I’d happily take two hours of detention over being stuck with Miles and Chad or providing free labor for Barry. They didn’t care what you did in detention; you just had to show up and sit there. Sometimes I did homework, but that was rare. I texted friends and napped. But I also used the time to write music. I could express emotions in a song that I couldn’t find the words for in real life.

  “Come on in, Mr. Burnett.” Mr. G waved me in while he slurped coffee from a thermos almost as big as his head.

  “You drew the short straw again, Mr. G?” I slid into the last seat of a row in the middle of the class, so I could look out the window. “Or do you just like spending time with us?”

  “I like seeing you in class, but believe me I’d rather be mowing my lawn than sitting here on Saturday. And I hate mowing my lawn.”

  Tracey strolled in, looking like a punk/Goth version of Lacey. Which was always weird, until I looked in their eyes. Something about their eyes—even though they were the same color—made it easy to tell them apart. Maybe that whole windows to the soul thing.

  “Hey, Grady, you going to the music festival in Sweetwater today?”

  “Yep. Playing in it,” I said. “Are you going?”

  “Yeah.” She pulled out a compact mirror and started drawing on fat lines of black eyeliner along her eyelashes. “You know my friend Tina?”

  I squinted one eye and tried to conjure up Tina. “Wait, yes. Purple hair, buzz cut, tattoos on the backs of her fingers that spell her favorite cuss word?”

  “Yeah, that’s her. She’s the new drummer for the Vultures.”

  “Oh, sweet.” If you liked synthpunk. Not really my thing, but I could respect the talent of the musicians playing it. “What’s your sister doing today?”

  “No idea, but if I had to guess…” she said, now using her fingertip to smudge the careful line she’d just drawn on. “Make her bed. Breakfast. Homework from eight until ten. Laundry from ten to ten-forty. Run three miles from ten-forty five until eleven-fifteen. Eat lunch—probably a grilled cheese and a bowl of minestrone soup—and then alphabetize the stack of mail on the counter while she runs math problems through her head.”

  “Okay, okay. Sorry I asked.” I rolled my eyes.

  “Whoa, wait. You like her.” Tracey sat back in her seat with a grin. “
You really like her.”

  “So. I like you too.” I shrugged, wishing I’d kept my big mouth shut. “No big deal.”

  “Not the same way. Not at all.” She tilted her head. “This is very interesting.”

  “No, it’s not. Forget I said anything.”

  Did I like Lacey like that? Was that why I smiled whenever I thought about her? Yeah, pretty sure Tracey was right. I really liked Lacey.

  There was something about Lacey Jane Trueheart that scattered my thoughts. There was something about her smile and her kindness and her optimism that had the ability to wash away the ugly parts of my life. At least when I was around her. One look into her light gray eyes helped me block out the voices in my head.

  The voice of my father, telling me I was the worst mistake of his life. That I was the weight that pulled my parents down. That I was unwanted and unloved.

  Barry’s voice, letting me know I was an obligation. He’d make sure I had a roof over my head, clothes on my back, and food in my belly. Until the day I graduated, and then I needed to leave. I was unwanted and unloved. But this time it was okay, because, I felt the same way about Barry.

  My mother’s voice, begging me to sacrifice, over and over. Begging me to conform, to concede, and do without. I guess she was afraid I’d be a burden again, and pull down what she and Barry had.

  I was a slow learner, but I’d finally figured it out. Something in me was deeply flawed. Something that made me unlovable. And something about Lacey’s earnestness and sweetness made me feel otherwise for a few precious moments.

  Not that I was going to do anything about it.

  “Hey,” I said, getting Tracey’s attention again. “I’d appreciate it if you kept that to yourself.”

  “Kept what?”

  “The fact that I don’t have a thing for your sister.”

  “Since you don’t have a thing for my sister...” She gave me a funny look, but nodded. “Then there’s nothing to tell, right?”