Chapter 4
My class schedule—for the whole school week, including electives and newspaper hours—is in my pocket. I studied it ages ago, memorized the room numbers and teachers’ names, but I still pull it out to check one more time.
The long hallway is crowded with students, the bell is about to ring, and everyone is hurrying to class. When I spot Tamara and Cynthia on my way, my stepsister’s friends—popular bitches just like her, with glamorous little backpacks and perfect smirks—I press my mouth into a harder line and walk past. I pretend I don’t see them, until the news catches up to me that Kate Harding was kissing Sean Renton in the parking lot this morning. And that (oh my God!) they’re now the most popular couple in school. And that it’s already obvious who’ll be crowned king and queen of the Winter Ball.
I snort and mentally roll my eyes—like I care. What a mystery. But the last comment still lands where it hurts:
“I can already see Ashley Wilson photographing them for the school paper and crying her eyes out, poor thing. I bet she dreamed Renton would be the one leading her by the hand into the sunset.”
“Ah-ha-ha! Redheaded Simba and the Captain!”
“And Elton John singing in the background: ‘Can you feel the love tonight, baby? Open your heart. It’s right here with us’!…”
“Except now it’s not with her, it’s with Kate, but details!”
I hope the two middle fingers I show those vipers behind my back don’t go unnoticed, because the girls shut up, and I hurry on.
Amber Couch is waiting for me near the office, casually chatting with the academic counselor—strict, prim Mrs. Davis, who handles course selection and schedules at school. Seeing my curvy friend deep in conversation, I immediately guess why she ended up here.
She must have come to sniff out the latest news. She has a passion for that. And judging by the way she’s eagerly winding a long pink-tipped box braid around her finger and biting the edge of her lip, she’s already found a thread worth pulling.
Actually, to everyone at school, the three of us make a strange friend group. Trisha is tall and long-legged as a grasshopper, a seriously athletic girl with dark skin and ebony eyes. For as long as I’ve known her, she’s always smiled wider, jumped higher, and run faster than everyone in our class. So it’s no surprise that even now, on the school cross-country team, she’s one of the best runners and plans to get an athletic scholarship.
I run pretty well too—especially with a professional camera in my hands while hunting for a super-mega shot during school competitions or games—but I’m nowhere near Trisha. In elementary and middle school, I was seriously into dance. Even after I got to high school, I still held on to the dream of making the cheerleading squad. But it didn’t work out. Patricia, her daughter Kate, and the strange rivalry between us that I couldn’t explain all suddenly appeared in my life.
So I didn’t. I wasn’t going to put up with Kate’s behavior, when her father turned out to be one of the school’s sponsors and set the tone for the administration’s special treatment of his daughter. I simply got into photography and disappeared into the digital world of focus, interesting subjects, and filters. And now I wouldn’t trade it for anything.
As for Amber, this curvy fair-haired girl with dimples won Trisha and me over with her readiness for any adventure, her loyalty to our friendship, and her bulletproof confidence.
“When every woman in your family is plus-size, has a great love life and a sense of humor,” Amber used to say with a laugh, nose in the air, “it’s hard to grow up without admiring your own perfection. And it’s hard for me to argue with my reflection when it has reinforced-concrete proof of my beauty!”
So confidence was definitely not a problem for our friend. Even Kate and her viper friends couldn’t get to Amber, no matter how hard they tried. While Trisha spent the summer desperately straightening her curly hair at the salon, Ambi got about four hundred white box braids and dyed the ends dark pink. With black nail polish and an eyebrow piercing, her new hairstyle looked absolutely spectacular.
Just like the girl herself, who spotted me and immediately hurried over.
“Hi, Ashley!”
Amber and I became friends two years ago, when we both made it through tryouts and started working for the school newspaper, “Ellison News.” That was where we met Zack Baker too—our beloved boss. He was an upperclassman and was now the newspaper’s editor-in-chief; I was the photographer, and Amber was a journalist and reporter who never let a single piece of important school-life news pass her by.
That is exactly where Amber starts, hooking her arm through mine and tossing her long braids:
“Ashley, have you heard the news of the day? Matthew Palmer is back at school! Yes, that same arrogant hottie whose brother got sent to prison for stealing expensive cars, and who beat the crap out of Sean last spring!”
Amber and I already saw each other during first period, but we both say hi to the students we know as we pass them in the hallway.
“Yeah, I heard,” I admit, slowing down. “And I even saw him with my own eyes five minutes ago. Trish and I have biology with him now. Do you think Principal Gibson was the one who gave him a second chance?”
“I don’t think, I know!” she says, confirming my guess. “I just cracked Mrs. Davis! But it wasn’t only the principal. Turns out someone vouched for Palmer, and I even have a guess who. Just imagine, that guy has a seriously high IQ and good grades. Who would’ve thought, Ash?”
“You’re kidding?” I’m honestly surprised right along with her. I know exactly how much effort it takes to do well at this school, and I know Palmer’s reputation.
“Not even a little! Mrs. Davis admitted she also petitioned for him to come back to school and helped Matthew put together his course plan for the whole year. But I’m interested in something else.”
“What?”
“I wonder if Coach Hurley will take him back onto the team. I mean the starting lineup. I can already see the headline in the paper.” Amber raises her hands, acting out a screaming article. “Sports-season sensation! The famous Golden Eagles’ best attackman returns! Troubled teen expelled from school for fighting!”
“Stop, Amber!” I hurry to pull my friend back to reality. “It’s better not to write about the expulsion or the fight. I don’t think Secretary Moran would approve that. You know her rules—no negativity. And Zack probably wouldn’t let something like that into the issue anyway. But I liked the first part, the sensation angle. We should interview Coach Hurley after school and clear everything up.”
Amber knows I’m right and lets out an irritated breath, shrugging.
“Ugh, I am so sick of Moran’s pathological love of censorship! As if everyone at this school doesn’t already know what Palmer is like. Renton’s parents told half the town he’s a future criminal! Remember when your dad came for him right at school? I thought they were going to haul him away in handcuffs!”