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PROLOGUE
Spencer
Moving from Atlanta to Sagehaven was going to be an adjustment…a huge one. For my entire life, all I’d known was the city. But after my mom lost her battle with cancer two years ago, leaving just me and my dad behind, neither of us could stand to live in that big house anymore. There were too many painful memories of her, and every time we walked into the living room, we could see the ghost of her hospital bed and all of those machines taking up residence against the window that overlooked her garden.
After a long discussion between the two of us, where we discussed pros and cons of uprooting our lives, as well as our mental health, Dad put the house on the market, and we moved to this tiny little town the summer before my senior year was set to begin. The house we were living in now was a modest, three-bedroom, two-bath in a quiet neighborhood. Our neighbor to the left was an elderly widow in her eighties, and our neighbor to the right was a single mom with a kid in fifth grade. Overall, it was a cute, quiet neighborhood, which was just what we needed after the turmoil of the past few years, after watching my mother slowly succumb to the cancer eating away at her body.
Dad took a small pay cut by moving here and working from home, but he told me it was the right decision. And I trusted him. We were all each other had now, and we had to look out for one another.
We needed this, even if I was nervous about starting a new school. I was openly gay, and I would never hide who I was, but I also knew that while I’d faced backlash for my sexuality in Atlanta, small towns like this one could be even worse.
But I was here now, and there was no going back to the known evil in Atlanta. I had to make this work.
Drawing in a deep breath, I tightened my grip on the straps of my backpack and ascended the concrete steps that led into my new school, my heart in my throat.
I just prayed I could fit in…
And that drama wouldn’t find me.
CHAPTER 1
Spencer
The weather was cool outside, Fall making an early entrance in Tennessee. It was only the end of September, but I was used to warmer temperatures staying until near Thanksgiving. Sometimes, they would even last until Christmas. But up here in Tennessee, where Dad and I had moved to, the weather was drastically different, even if it was only four hours away from where we’d lived in Atlanta.
The teacher wrote another math formula on the board, and I quickly wrote it down in my notebook, writing down notes on how to solve it as she walked the class through it. I surprisingly loved the school here. They offered advanced classes that challenged me, whereas my last school didn’t offer anything like that, despite it being in a big city. Here, my brain was constantly being pushed to be used, and I couldn’t get enough of it.
I loved a good challenge. I liked to think and solve problems. It was…comforting.
Class ended pretty quickly since we were too busy working formulas to watch the clock. When the bell rang, signaling the end of class, I began packing my things up, everyone else already pouring out of the classroom. Loud chatter from the hallways reached my ears as friends found each other, and I was pretty sure I heard a fight break out…which really wasn’t all that uncommon.
“Spencer, can I see you for a moment?” Mrs. Hargrove asked, making me snap my head up from my bag. She smiled at me, and I breathed a slight sigh of relief. I knew I hadn’t done anything to wind up in trouble, but I still got anxious easily, even with my anxiety medication.
I quickly shoved my pencil into my bag and zipped it up before getting out of my seat and walking to the front of the classroom. “Yes, ma’am?” I asked, shifting my bag so I could loop my arm through the other shoulder strap.
“Is there any possible way I could convince you to tutor a student?” she asked me, a pleading look in her eye. “He’s in the same grade as you, but the school is threatening to remove him from the football team if he doesn’t get his math grade up. Is that something you could possibly find the time to help him with?”
I shrugged. “Sure,” I mumbled. I’d tutored plenty of athletes at my old school, and I’d put myself on the list here as an available tutor as well. It gave me something to do after school besides just sit at home and binge-watch TV shows.
That got old quickly after an entire summer of it.
Mrs. Hargrove beamed at me. “Oh, thank you, Spencer.” She handed me a slip of paper with a name and a phone number on it. I glanced down at it. Ezra Hart. I vaguely recognized his name. He was the best offensive lineman the school had, and from the rumors I’d heard, he had college scouts lined up for him. He hadn’t committed to any particular school yet, apparently still weighing his options. And his parents were pretty wealthy—one of the wealthiest families in town, honestly. So, his options were practically endless.
“I told him to text you so you two could meet up and come up with some kind of plan,” she continued. “Thank you so much for doing this, Spencer.” She handed me another piece of paper, though this one was a regular 8.5x11 sheet. I ran my eyes over it. She’d made a list of everything Ezra struggled with, which was just about everything normal seniors should have been learning this year. “He’s not grasping what I’m trying to teach,” she explained. “He’s a bright student, but numbers are not his strong suit.”
I shrugged. “That’s easy enough to work with,” I told her. “Will there be an issue if he works out the problems differently from the rest of the class?” In my old school, that had been an issue. They wanted it done the CORE way, which was stupid. It was some new learning model that the school board thought would help students, but it only hindered them. And the teachers were forced to deduct points from each assignment if a problem was worked out differently than the CORE math way.
“Of course not,” she told me, shaking her head. “I just want him to understand and grasp the material. That’s all that matters to me. How he gets there, as long as it’s honest, does not matter to me.”
Well, that was good to hear because not all teachers were like that. It was their way or fail, which I thought was a load of bullshit.
I nodded and folded the paper up, sticking that and Ezra’s number into my pocket. “I’ll help him.”
“Again, thank you, Spencer.”
“It’s no problem, Mrs. Hargrove.”
I slipped from the classroom and headed down the hall to my next class, slipping inside right before the bell rang. I quickly took my seat at the back and pulled out my notebook, textbook, and pencil, ready to dive into my most hated subject.
