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Chapter 1
Matt
“And now, for the part we’ve all been waiting for. It’s almost prom season!”
Yvette pierces the audio so much that I signal to Kip to lower the dial, so a loud screech doesn’t get sent out through the school.
Morning announcements aren’t my favorite thing about being a part of student council. But, being student body president, I guess I’m supposed to be the one to make sure things run smoothly. Although, Yvette is our vice-president, so I don’t know why I can’t handle other things. In the end, it doesn’t really matter. I didn’t get the position because I want to go into politics or campaigned my ass off. I got it because I’m popular. So did she. And the only reason I ran for student body president was because of my father.
My dad’s a big shot defense attorney that works twenty-hour days, seven days a week. My brother and I live with him since neither of us wanted to move to New York with my mom when they divorced three years ago. The divorce sucked. Royally. Because I love my mom. She’s great. She’s also a lawyer and had just been hired by this huge firm just as the divorce was being finalized. It was hard, but I love California. It’s all I’ve known. Plus, all my friends are here.
So, yeah, it sucked. But she brings us out as much as she can, which means we get to spend Thanksgiving, Christmas, and summers out in New York City. It’s pretty awesome when you make friends with your parent’s workmate’s kids, and they take you out partying in Manhattan and Brooklyn until three in the morning.
Anyways, back to my dad, Mr. Big-Time-Defense-Attorney. He’s been one for twenty years and has pretty much hounded me about becoming one myself. But I refuse. Flat out refuse. I see all the work he and my mom have done over the years and how much they love it. I, on the other hand, just see piles of paperwork and court hearings. That’s definitely not what I want to do. The thing is, I have no clue what I actually do want to do.
My dad tried to get me to do mock trial, but I keep telling him we’ve got a full team. I have no idea if Woodbridge even has a mock trial team. But this year, he said if I wasn’t going to do that, at least do something that would give me experience. Experience? In what? People talking? I’m a popular guy, not to brag or anything, and I hang out with Lucas Mitchell and my best friend, Carter Dixon, two of the most popular guys in school. I don’t need to go out of my way to be in student council to get some type of experience. Just to appease him I decided to throw my name in the hat. And wouldn’t you know it, I got the most votes for president.
Which brings us back to Yvette, our vice-president. She’s been going on and on, actually now that I’m looking at my phone, almost three minutes over our allotted morning announcements time about prom. And she’s talking about the prom court of course.
Only seniors are eligible for prom court. I would say Carter is a shoe in for it, but after his fall from grace with all the rumors spread about him, he probably won’t get any votes, if he’s even on the ballot. I’m assuming I’ll probably be nominated, but the nominations aren’t for a while, so why the hell is Yvette going on and on about them?
I clear my throat loudly, which gets her attention.
“My bad.” She gives a smile to the camera that says, I’m trying to act embarrassed, but I’m not really embarrassed, because I’m Yvette Morales, and I’m the bad bitch that is running prom court this year.
And, yeah, she probably is.
Yvette Morales is to the girls at Woodbridge High what Carter Dixon used to be to the guys. She’s the man. Er… woman. But, she’s also the classic ‘mean girl’. Seriously, if I didn’t know any better, I’d have thought Mean Girls was a biopic about Yvette Morales, where Rachel McAdams character was actually Yvette, but they named her Regina George to avoid any lawsuits. Oh, and she wants me.
Okay, I know that sounds like a douchebag thing to say. And conceited. But it’s the truth. She makes sure I know it every time I walk by her. I could honestly file a sexual harassment suit against her if I wanted to, for how many times she’s pinched my ass. It’s ridiculous. I probably have a permanent red mark from it.
“Those are the announcements for today,” Greg, our student body treasurer, finally chimes in. “Be sure to enjoy the day and have a terrific spring break. Stay safe out there.”
They both sit still, smiling at the camera. Greg’s already said he wants to major in broadcasting after high school, so he plays the role of newscaster perfectly.
“And, we’re out,” Kip calls out. He’s one of the students in the broadcasting room who helps put on the morning announcements show.
“Good job,” I say to everyone, but Yvette immediately looks at me and gives me a sultry smile.
The teacher calls us back to our desks, and for the rest of first period, we start getting things in line for the distribution of yearbooks, our senior trip, our final senior pep rally, and, of course, prom.
The bell rings for the end of class, and I grab my backpack. But not before Yvette makes her way over.
“So, Matt, any plans for prom?”
“Not really,” I answer coolly. And it’s true, I haven’t even thought about it. It’s still over a month away.
She lets out a laugh, at what I don’t know, and then throws her hair back over her shoulder. “Sarah and I are going dress shopping this weekend. I don’t know if I’ll get anything, but I want to make sure I find something I like. What about spring break?”
“Yeah. My brother and I are visiting my mom out in New York.”
“New York?” She squeals. “Oh, bring me back a souvenir,” she adds as she grabs my arm.
“Uh, yeah. Sure,” I say as I detangle myself from her and make my way out of the door. “Later, Yvette.”
I head down the hallway and turn the corner, bumping right into Izzy Jacobs.
“Oh shit, sorry.” I steady myself and reach out because it looks like she might fall over. But she steadies herself and my hand, that was reaching out for her arm, now connects with her boob. And not just a light brush. I was trying to grab her arm, but I grab her instead. I jerk my hand back, and I know my cheeks are blushing. “Ah—sorry,” I spit out again.
