Chapter 3

Monday morning at school begins with curious looks from upperclassmen in the parking lot, whispers behind my back, and news. The news the girls and I missed because we left Fever right after the dance contest.

Apparently, soon after we left, some guys from our school got into a fight, and it almost involved the police—that’s one. Trisha and Jake got the prize and used it for yesterday’s date at an expensive restaurant—that’s two. And the third piece of news: at the end of the dance, someone threw eggs at Catherine and Sean, unconvinced by their love.

“…and the poor thing burst into tears right there, can you imagine? Well, of course she did! A cheap hickey on her neck, yolk running down her dress, and Ashley Wilson making out with hot Palmer right in front of her. Instead of suffering over Renton at that very moment, tearing your hair out, and writhing in envy of the incomparable Miss Number-One Ass! What a disaster! Your stepsister’s eyes practically popped out of their sockets along with her poisonous tears. I’m surprised she didn’t smother you with a pillow in the night for that kind of betrayal!”

“Ashley, do you lock your door at night?” Amber asks seriously and backs Trisha up. “I agree with you, Jenkins. With a snake like Harding, you can expect anything. Lock it! Better yet, buy a rat trap. You’ll see, she’ll get caught in it for sure! She didn’t happen to throw some mega-tantrum at home, did she?”

“No, I didn’t even see her yesterday. Kate and I haven’t spoken for a month now. I don’t think Halloween is going to change anything in that regard. We still can’t stand each other. It can’t get worse than that.”

“Who cares about Kate the Doll?” Trisha snorts, rolling her eyes. “Ashley and Matthew, now that’s another story. God, Ash, you two are something else! Our jaws nearly hit the floor when we saw who you were dancing with! Better tell us what’s going on with you and Palmer, and why we don’t know about it.”

The girls and I are at the sports stadium for PE, and everyone has a three-mile run ahead of them. Amber and I are visibly tense, diligently doing a loose warm-up before the run, while Trisha isn’t even worried, chattering nonstop about the party.

“Useless, Jenkins,” Amber says, setting one leg aside and bouncing into the stretch. “I already asked Ash. She doesn’t know.”

“How does that work?”

“Just like that.”

The moment Trisha looks at me, I’m warming up my knees, so I shrug.

“And what’s going on with you and Bruce Brody?” I ask Amber in turn, and she frowns and points a finger at me.

“Fine, you caught me, Wilson. I don’t know either. But I think temporary insanity and nothing more! You’ll see, girls, that skinny guy will pretend he’s seeing me for the first time. The poor thing is probably still traumatized by my proposition!”

It’s an interesting theory, and I shake my head while Trisha smiles:

“I still think Halloween was a success!”

The coach’s warning whistle sounds. We’re given our time and asked to take our places at the start. Forty people are running this thing, and it would be nice to finish in the top ten, but I’m not the fastest, and this is just a standard school fitness test, so I start and run from the middle.

The first lap is done… the second… the seventh… Three more to go. I can’t say I’m not handling it—dance does add movement to my life—but I’ve already turned noticeably red, and my heavy ponytail has slid off the top of my head to one side.

I happen to spot him. Probably because the other girls are staring too at the tall, athletic guy stopped by the track.

He’s wearing a dark hoodie, unzipped at the chest, a light T-shirt with a print on it, and black jeans with his thumbs hooked in the pockets. His long bangs are swept back from his face, and it’s easy to see the smile touching his lips.

Of course it’s Matthew Palmer, and of course he’s hot as always.

Oh, yes, I know I’ve started repeating that word to myself a lot, but I’ve known it was true for a long time. Ever since he ended up in my bedroom.

Apparently, Matthew noticed me even before I noticed him, because he watches me without looking away, and when I get closer, he lifts his hands to his mouth and shouts:

“Come on, Ash! Push it, you can do it! Faster, girl, I believe in you!”

If a second wind exists, this is it. Even soaked with sweat from running, I catch myself smiling wide from the joy of seeing him. I have no idea how he managed to slip out of class, but Matthew stays until the end, until the coach blows the whistle and our run is over. Only then does he give me two thumbs up and take off at a run himself, heading back into the school building.

Of course Trisha comes in first, I come in eighth, and Ambi prefers not to dwell on little things like next-to-last place in the overall run. We’re all different, but we’re friends, so we return to the locker room perfectly pleased with ourselves. And the girls keep glancing at me with giggles.

“You don’t know, huh, Wilson? Seems to me Matthew knows exactly what he wants.”

“Leave me alone, minions!”

“Still, it’s a shame I was busy with Jake on Saturday and didn’t see the show Palmer put on. I wish I’d seen it!”

As always, Amber has answers to everything and reassures our friend:

“Don’t worry, Trish, you’ll see it very soon. One hundred percent, someone from school filmed the contest, so all we have to do is wait for the video to make the rounds through friends online and enjoy the epic moment about ten times!”

“Oh no,” I go cold.

“Oh yes!” Jenkins exclaims, and Ambi laughs.

“Actually, girls, I meant Sean, Kate, and the eggs. What were you talking about?!”

***

The next couple of classes pass tensely in math. As an upperclassman, I’m taking calculus, which I need for college admissions, so I plunge headfirst into real numbers, graphs, and derivatives. Along with the class and the teacher, I work through differential calculus for single-variable functions, trying with everything I have not to think about the guy with the most beautiful eyes in the world, the one who hasn’t left my head since yesterday morning.

And it is incredibly hard. The image of Matthew coming out of the water toward me is so vivid it feels as if I’m there again, with him, on the ocean shore, smelling the salty breeze. Feeling the warmth of his lips—cool and burning at the same time. And, of course, the pleasant strength of the arms pulling me against him.

I have to force my attention back to the lesson again and again, write down coefficients and endpoints, and think hard about the function. Maybe that’s why I don’t immediately notice that Kate is sitting separately from Renton today, and straight-A Bruce Brody is wearing sunglasses.

That last part is strange.

And it’s strange that the teacher doesn’t say anything to him. But right now I can’t think about it too seriously, and I spend the rest of class working on the equation.

“Ashley, we’re here! Hurry over, we’re almost at the front!”

It’s lunch and the long school break, which means it’s time to hurry up and see my friends. I enter the cafeteria, already packed with students, and Amber and Zachary wave me over from the long line at the food counter.