Chapter One
WALKINGinto the girls’ locker room and having my nose assaulted with the smell of vomit was something I wasn’t expecting. Not because I had a weird fetish where I secretly hoped to walk into the locker room, or anywhere else for that matter, to the smell of slightly digested food and stomach acid. I made a mental note to research people with odd obsessions of stomach pyrotechnics, which then led me to wonder about the people who’d actually study the afflicted puke worshipers.
I mean, not that I was judging.
I was sure there were worse things to research. I was unable to compile a list as to what those were, because a moan filtering from one of the bathroom stalls threw off my train of thought.
"Hey, are you okay?" I asked the bottom of a pair of cleats barely visible in the gap from the tiled floor and metal door.
"Kenna, is that you?"
"Yeah, Nene, it's me. What do you need?"
Renee Thorne was the short-stop on our high school softball team. We’d been playing together since elementary school, both of us advancing to varsity our freshman year. Now at the end of our senior year, we were going into our last season undefeated.
Don’t misunderstand, even though we played together, Renee and I weren't friends. She had natural talent. The game came easy to her.
I, on the other hand, worked my softballs off to get my position. While I was diligently pitching balls over and over again under the watchful eyes of my highly paid pitching coach, Doc. Renee and the rest of the team socialized with the outside world.
In other words, Renee was popular. She had it all, the long blonde hair, chocolate-colored eyes, sexy curves, and her outgoing personality made her skyrocket up the high school social ladder. Me, not so much, driving a deeper chasm between us.
I had the body of an athlete and the awkward thoughts of a nerd. But hey, my parents say I'm a catch.
My chestnut hair—okay, it's brown, but chestnut makes me feel more exotic—was thrown back in its usual ponytail. So when Renee feebly pushed the door open I was able to catch her hair before it fell into the water as she launched for the toilet without mine getting in the way.
Holding her hair with one hand and rubbing her back with the other, I waited for her dry heaves to dissipate. Renee pushed away from the toilet and leaned against the stall, tears streaming down her face.
I leaned against the opposite wall, handing her a wad of toilet paper so she could soak up some of her tears.
"Don't cry. I know you feel like death right now, but you'll get better soon." Awkwardness enveloped me like a strict parent watching every move I made.
Renee gulped in a huge breath and started sobbing. Her head rested on her knees as I looked on in horror.
"Do you want me to see if the nurse has anything for your stomach?" I asked, wishing I could magically disappear.
"It's not something I ate," Renee cried softly.
My back pushed harder into the wall, not wanting to catch whatever bug was now swarming around the bathroom stall waiting to inflict its evilness in me. I pulled my jersey over my mouth in hopes with one less entryway it would keep me from contracting the germs.
Renee looked up from her knees. Her brown eyes surveyed my act of self-maintenance. A tiny quirk of her lip made a dimple show on her cheek.
"You can't catch what I have, McKenna."
"Are you sure? You never know what kind of nasty things are floating around at this school. I'm pretty sure high schoolers are a close equivalent to Neanderthals. I read a study once where—"
"I'm pregnant." Renee’s words stopped my rant.
My mouth dropped open, dislodging my shirt from protecting it.
"Please, don't give me a lecture on the research you’ve done on teen pregnancies. I seriously can't handle something like that right now."
"I wasn't going to start rambling off different statistics. Give me some credit."
I was totally going to start rattling off statistics. It’s my go-to when things get awkward.
Renee rolled her eyes, probably guessing I was lying.
"What are you going to do?" I asked.
