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PROLOGUE
SKYE
16 years old…
“Skye Summers.”
My eye twitches when Mrs.Smith, my homeroom teacher, calls my name. Her nasally voice is enough to grate on anyone’s nerves. I’ve zoned out for most of the period, thinking about meeting Clint, but her saying my name thrusts me back into the fires of Hell… high school.
“Yes?” I ask, bored.
“Ms. Summers, pay attention.” She sighs. “Maybe if you were paying more attention during classes, your grades wouldn’t suffer.” Mrs. Smith holds out a piece of paper. “Come up here and get your report card before I give you detention.”
That lights a fire under my ass. Nothing in this world is worse than sitting in school for eight hours a day and having another hour added for detention. I scurry to the front of the room and snatch the paper out of her hand.
“Sorry,” I mumble and return to my desk. I slowly unfold the report card and glance down.
Fuck. I knew it would be bad but not this bad. What am I going to do now?
I drop it onto my desk and stare at it like it’s a snake ready to strike. School has always been difficult for me, but this? This is bad. One F, two D’s, one C, and one A.
Figures the one good grade I managed to get is in Art. I love to create things, but I could care less about everything else. I just need to get through a couple more years, and then I can get the hell out of this town.
The only reason I’ve made it this far is that most of the teachers pass me just to get me out of their classes, having deemed the girl who struggles a waste of their time. Math is by far my worst subject. I never seem to get the numbers right, no matter how hard I try. Staring at a problem for hours doesn’t even help the answers come. Sure, some teachers have tried to help, but once they gave up on me, I gave up on myself.
Why continue with the charade?
The shrill ringing of the bell snaps me out of my stupor, and I make a mad dash for the hallway.
“Did you see her report card?” Libby whispers loudly, obviously not really trying to be sly about what she says.
Libby, Miranda, and Cory are the bane of my existence. The three stooges have made my life miserable since fourth grade. They’ve made it their life’s mission to break me.
Newsflash: I’m already broken.
But I refuse to let them see me cower. I hold my head high and push between them to get into my locker.
Miranda snickers. “Probably all Fs.”
“Dumb and trashy, like her parents,” Cory sneers.
I stiffen my spine and square my shoulders, but other than that, I don’t react. Last time I let them goad me into more, I was suspended from school for fighting. It was worth it, giving Cory a black eye, but Grandma was disappointed.
I spin the combination lock and open the door to grab my books for the rest of the day. If I have to return to my locker, I’ll have to deal with Larry, Curly, and Moe, and I’m not up for that.
They’re still laughing when I turn on my heel and walk away.
The day drags on, and my skin tingles with anticipation for the last bell to ring. As soon as it does, I make a beeline for the parking lot, where Clint’s waiting for me by his car.
“Hey, Skye!” he shouts as I run toward him.
“Hi,” I say breathlessly when I reach his side.
Clint is my best friend… has been since preschool. He’s the only one who understands me.
“Did you get your report card?” he asks.
I kick at the gravel and hang my head. “Yep.”
