I shrug. “I like weird.”
She stops and glares at me. Then she puts both hands on my shoulders. “Okay. Get that out of your system right now.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re a Shipley,” she moans. “That’s what I mean. We already get bad press for having a serial killer uncle. I don’t want to have a weird cousin too.”
I suppose she does have a point. I’d like to be as inconspicuous as possible this year. I don’t want to make waves or stand out for any reason, good or bad.
Jasmine herds me out the double doors to the courtyard, where Connor joins us. There are picnic benches scattered all over the green. I notice a few guys at one table waving Connor over, but he ignores them. Instead, he flops down across from us at a table under a shady elm tree.
“Did your mom order you to have lunch with me?” I glance from Jasmine to her twin, and their sheepish expressions are all the confirmation I need. I groan at them. “Oh my God. Go sit with your friends.”
“You are our friend,” Connor says lightly, grabbing his brown-bag lunch from his backpack.
I sigh and do the same, just as a tiny girl with long red hair and big blue eyes ambles over to us. Jasmine introduces her as Gillian, one of her best friends.
The redhead grins at me. “Welcome, fellow ginger.”
I glare at her, half joking, half serious. “I amnota ginger. My hair’s a dark auburn.”
“Sorry to inform you, but all shades of red fall under the ginger category,” Gillian says in a grave tone, and I can’t help but laugh. She seems cool.
As I’m pulling out a misshapen turkey sandwich from my bag, Jasmine suddenly sighs, a soft, happy sound.
She’s gazing across the lawn at Everett, who’s tossing a football with his friends. A group of girls sit on a blanket nearby, watching in admiration. The girl with the blond highlights, Sofia, is at the center of them. If this place is as big a cliché as I think it is, they’re the cheerleaders.
The Everett Adoration Hour is interrupted when Mr.Perfect hands the football to one of his friends and jogs toward theparking lot beyond the lawn. A sleek black bike is pulling in, stopping almost directly in front of Everett.
My gaze—along with everyone else’s—flits in that direction. The driver removes his helmet and runs a hand through dirty-blond hair that has that messy, just-rolled-out-of-bed look.
If All-American Everett was ever going to have a rival for king of Crockett High, it would be this guy. But my guess is, this guy wouldn’twantto be king of a place like this. He’s the type who’ll arrive to school hours late just because he doesn’t give a damn about anything.
My impression of him as the brooding loner crumbles the second Everett claps the guy on the shoulder. Not long after, they’re laughing about something.
They don’t seem to notice that the entire student body is fixated on them. No wonder. They’re both attractive on their own, but together? It’s explosive.
“Who’s that?” I ask warily.
Jasmine gives a knowing smile. “Chase Hedlund. He has that effect on people.”
“What effect?” I turn and frown at her.
“It’s the whole bad-boy vibe he’s throwing off. Girls like to stand and stare at him. Guys too.”
“It’s almost unfair that so much hotness can be concentrated in such a small space,” Connor confirms.
I have to grin. “I wasn’t staring because he’s hot.” Which he is. Undeniably. They both are. “I was just confused. Doesn’t seem like those two would travel in the same circles.”
Jasmine shrugs. “Everett doesn’t chill with the rest of the delinquents, but he and Chase are tight, for whatever reason.”
I shift my gaze away from them. As much as I want to unravel the mysteries where boys like Everett and Chase are concerned, I can’t. I can’t risk getting close enough to anyone to figure them out.
Because if anyone figuresmeout?
My life will be over.
Free The Sparrows
