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Chapter One
A cancer ward wasn’t exactly where most teens chose to spend their Saturdays. At least, not for the kids at my school. Rock Valley High had its fair share of jocks, nerds, and emos. We also had gamers, mangas, populars, and the normals.
And then there was me — Trina Frye.
The person who spent study hall in art class, walked around all day with paint in my hair, and volunteered at the cancer ward on the weekends. But those other kids didn’t know what they were missing.
“I’m so bored.” Charley looked up from her Glamour magazine at me, her deep brown eyes blinking slowly. She tilted her head and gave off one of the most pathetic sighs I’d ever heard. “Can’t we do something fun?”
I leaned forward and pushed my dark, curly hair out of my face, excitement coursing through my veins. The sketching pad with Charley’s likeness on it that I’d been drawing fell out of my lap and to the floor. “We could stalk Jennifer Lawrence online and see how much she spent on her wedding.”
Celebrity stalking was Charley’s hobby. At least, while she was getting chemo treatments. This was her sixth round and it was my job as a hospital volunteer to help her through it the best way I could. Maybe I couldn’t keep her from feeling sick as those chemicals entered her body. And maybe I couldn’t keep her beautiful black hair from falling from her head. But I could stalk celebrities like the best of them, and for Charley, I would do it with all of my heart.
Charley sat back in her recliner, her dry lips pulling down into a frown. “Nah, I’m not really in the mood. We need something better to do. Something...a little bit naughty.”
Her eyes canvassed the hospital room as I gulped. Naughty wasn’t on my radar. As a senior in high school, I had plans. More specifically, my parents had plans for me to go to Northwestern University and then med school. Never mind the fantastic art school in Chicago I’d obsessively googled over the past year.
I couldn’t say how many times they’d lectured me on how my decisions today affected my future. Art was just a hobby. And everything on my rap sheet would affect my career path. Charley was just a freshman. She didn’t understand.
“I’ve got it,” she said, adjusting her IV line to reach for my half-empty Coke bottle. Setting it carefully on the floor, she looked up at me and grinned. “You still don’t have a boyfriend, right? How about a little Spin-the-Bottle? You go first.”
I laughed and glanced down the rows of reclining chairs. At least five other recliners were claimed by other cancer patients. Old Mr. Richard at the end, with the shiny head and disapproving grunts. Sweet Lilly, who made the world’s best chocolate chip cookies and was the granny everyone wished they had. Plus, three other middle-aged folks. A few nurses stood at the station across the room, but other than that, the pickings were slim.
“I’m not sure there’s anyone in here that’s boyfriend material.”
Charley rolled her eyes and adjusted her black baseball cap that hid the remnants of her hair. “Just spin, Trina. Don’t be lame.”
“I’m not lame,” I replied, shaking my head. “Cancer is lame.”
She rolled her eyes again, but a hint of a smile played on her lips. “Yeah, yeah, cancer is lame. I’ve heard that soundbite more times than I can count. Now, spin it before I change my mind and decide we have to do karaoke instead. I’ve heard you sing, Trina. I’m pretty sure your singing would kill everyone in here quicker than the cancer.”
“Hey, now.” I plastered a hand to my chest and pouted. “I devote my free time to help distract you from your treatments and this is how I’m treated? What did I do to deserve such a verbal thrashing?”
She forced out a laugh. “Let’s not pretend you don’t volunteer at the hospital just to get your parents off your back about med school.”
“Pssh.” I waved my hand dismissively at her. Maybe part of that was true. My parents certainly had put on the heat lately about college. I couldn’t really blame them. They were both doctors with stellar reputations. It was up to me and my baby sister, Beth, to carry on the family name. But that wasn’t the only reason I volunteered and Charley knew it. “That’s just an excuse. I did nothing to deserve your wrath.”
She huffed and then gave me an ornery grin. “Honestly, you smile too much.”
“Why is that a bad thing?”
“Because, no sane person in the world is as upbeat as you. It’s just unnatural.”
This time it was my turn to grin. It wasn’t the first time I’d heard that. And it wasn’t the first time Charley had accused me of being too perky, but I just rolled with it. Perkiness was how I was born. It was in my DNA.
Bending down to grab the bottle, I gave it a spin. The plastic Coke bottle spun on the linoleum floor and fell into an achingly slow pace until it finally stopped. We both twisted in our seats to see who it had landed on and I broke out into a giggle.
“I’m not kissing Mr. Richard. He’s older than my dad.”
“Fine.” Charley leaned back into her chair once again. “Spin again. This time, make it count. I can’t go back to reading last month’s magazines. My brain is going to turn to mush.”
With a good natured sigh, I spun the bottle one last time. It turned, the few droplets of pop inside going for a ride. And as it slowed to a stop, Charley and I followed its direction with our gazes. It landed on the doorway, which had just sprung wide open. And as I caught a full-on view of the newest intruder on the chemo ward, my lungs forgot how to work.
Mason Finnick drifted through the door of the chemo ward as if he were Superman bursting out of a phone booth. He was Rock Valley High’s newest star basketball playe
r, a recent transfer to my senior class, and the darling of all the baby jocksters. He had a broad chest, chiseled jaw, and athletic arms. His dark brown hair was trimmed and tossed with just enough finesse to make me doubt that it laid naturally that way. Despite his recent rocket to the top of Rock Valley High popularity, he always wore the same brooding expression on his face — a deep frown that told everyone to keep a wide ten-foot radius.
His sudden and unexpected presence in the cancer ward had me wondering if he knew someone getting treatment. It would definitely explain his sour attitude.
“This is perfect,” Charley spouted, sitting straight up in her seat for the first time all day. Energy poured into her once pale face. “Him. You have to kiss him.”
“Nope.” I shook my head violently and grabbed her abandoned Glamour magazine to rifle through the pages. “Not happening. Let’s redo that quiz on which hairstyle is best for my face. I think I could totally pull off bangs.”
“You can’t quit.” She splayed her hands and pointed at Mason as he made his way over to the nurses’ station. Desperation seeped into her voice. “He’s eye candy. He’s the G.O.A.T. He’s Mason Finnick. And from what I hear, he’s newly single. You can’t quit on me now, Trina Frye.”
I eyed her over an article about the danger of breast implants. “How do you even know his name? He just transferred in and you haven’t been to school this year because of the chemo. How do you know who Mason Finnick is?”
“Every girl in a hundred square miles of Rock Valley knows about our new point guard,” she said with a dreamy sigh. Her eyelashes fluttered. “Just because I have cancer, doesn’t mean I’ve fallen off the planet. Freshman year is a make-or-break kind of year. If I don’t keep up, I’ll get left behind. Mason Finnick is high school royalty. You’ve got to kiss him. For me. I’m living vicariously through you.”
I smiled at her and shook my head. Mason and I’d met only once before today and it hadn’t gone so well. He was immune to my charms. A total raincloud on my sunny parade. I doubted that he’d want to talk to me again, much less kiss me. Not even Charley’s help-me-I’m-sick puppy dog eyes could make that happen.
“Fine.” She crossed her arms tightly over her chest and jutted out her chin. For a moment, she looked much younger than a fourteen-year-old freshman in high school. She looked more like a little girl, in the fight of her life. “I triple-dog-dare you to go and talk to him. Mason Finnick is the closest I’ll come to having a celebrity visit during my chemo. The least you can do is stall him so I can drool over him a bit.”
Okay, so maybe her puppy dog eyes did do the trick. I couldn’t say no to that innocent request. So I stuck out my tongue at her and pushed up out of my folding chair to walk across the room. Mason was leaning against the nurses’ station, dressed in a simple outfit of light-washed denim and a white tee. He said something to the nurse on duty and drummed his long fingers on the countertop. She nodded back before jumping up from her seat to rush away.
As I neared, nerves began to dance inside my stomach. It was an unfamiliar feeling. I never got nervous talking to a new person. Pressing my hand to my stomach, I willed myself to pull it together.
Mason Finnick was just another guy from our school. Okay, maybe he was a little rough around the edges, but I was sure that beneath that tough exterior was a soft, gooey center. It didn’t matter that he was intimidatingly hot. Or that he was taller than I remembered, even towering over my five-foot-ten inch height, and smelled like sexy man shampoo. He was just another guy. A guy who needed friends and people who cared—
“What do you want?”
I stopped dead in my tracks, staring blankly at Mason as he looked me up and down with his steely blue eyes. His deep voice had caught me off guard, his tone far from friendly.
“Well?” The muscles in his jaw twitched impatiently and he tilted his head to one side. “Did you need something? The nurse just went to find someone.”
“N-n-no, I’m fine.” I ran my tongue over my lips, suddenly feeling like I’d come down with a case of the flu. Aches, chills, and sweaty palms. Definitely the flu. “I just came over to say hi, actually. I’m Trina. We’re in the same year at school.”
His eyes narrowed suspiciously. He glanced over my shoulder at the recliners and chemo patients. No doubt, Charley was watching us both like a hawk.
“You came over to say hi?” He gave me a disbelieving look. “Just because?”
“Well, not really.” I laughed into my hand, thinking about Charley’s shenanigans. That girl kept me on my toes. Even on the bad days, during the worst of the chemo treatments, she always had a way to liven up the day. “My friend and I were playing this silly game with a Coke bottle. You know, spin-the-bottle? And it landed on you.”
His eyebrows shot up and he huffed. “So what, I’m supposed to kiss you now? Some girl I’ve barely met. Is that how it works?”
