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Prologue
I walkinto her room for the nightly check, expecting the usual crying and pleading to let her go home, but when I open the door and hear nothing, I know something is wrong. I rush to her small form on the bed, calling her name, but she is not responding. I shake her, but she’s completely limp in my arms. Checking her pulse, I sigh in relief. She’s alive. What have I done? I scoop her up and race outside to my car which, thankfully, is still in the driveway from my earlier errand. Making sure she is secure in the backseat, I break every speed limit to the nearest emergency room. I can’t lose her, too. Making sure my hat is low, hood covering my hair and most of my face, I race inside the double doors and nearly throw her at the first nurse I can find. "HELP HER!"
Back in the car, I lean my forehead against the steering wheel and try to catch my breath, chanting, "She will be fine. She will be fine. She will be fine. I’ll get her back."
Chapter One
It’s mid-November,and everyone is talking about the upcoming Thanksgiving break. Denielle and I sit with Emma and Sloane at our usual lunch table. Our cafeteria is a huge, rectangular hall located in the center of where the three wings of Westbridge High meet. Two sets of double doors lead in from the east and west wings. The south wing is connected via two walkways to the east and west wings. Technically, it is its own building, not a wing, but since it’s south of the main complex, everyone calls it the south wing. I’m sure someone puta lotof thought into it before making that decision, or it was just the most logical, who knows. The south wing also leads to the parking lot and houses the administration offices, health office, and all of the art-related classrooms—best lighting and all.
Our lunch table is in the heart of the room, next to floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the outdoor seating area and green space. We have the perfect view of everything and everyone. When I’m not required to pay attention to my friends, I tend to just stare outside at the trees framing the school grounds. We are the only mixed table of gymnasts and cheerleaders. Emma and Sloane are the cheerleaders. Denielle and I are on the school’s gymnastics team and train at the local academy during our off-season. The rest of the cheerleaders flock around the far corner table by the east exit, and the rest of the gymnasts are spread over different tables on the west side. It’s like an unspoken agreement, but since the four of us have been friends since middle school, we refused to conform to that rule when we entered high school. The jocks claim three of the middle tables and are the center of attention, no matter where in the room you are—you can’t miss them. This includes my brother, Rhys, quarterback of the school’s football team as well as reigning wrestling champion, and his best friend, Wes.
I’m chewing on my turkey-avocado wrap, tempted to let my gaze wander outside and stop listening to Den going on incessantly about her boyfriend, Charlie. They have been together for two years, and this will be the first time he’s coming home since he left for college in August. I peer at my watch—twenty-three minutes and counting. I quietly sigh to myself but try to be a supportive best friend and pay attention. Denielle and I have been friends since my family moved back to Westbridge, Virginia four years ago. We lived here when Dad did his tour at the Pentagon, but he ended up taking command in North Carolina for three years, so we moved again. When he retired from the Marine Corps after twenty-some years, he took a government contractor position. His new job requires him to travel, so he doesn’t care where we live. Mom has been a corporate attorney with the same firm for as long as I can remember. She is able to commute between her local office and the firm’s main office in Alexandria easily. Living in North Carolina, she had to travel for days at a time, and she never liked leaving us kids for that long—especially when Natty, our little sister, was younger. But it wasn’t just that. Both my parents had lived in the Virginia area when they went to school, which was where they met, and a lot of their college friends are still here. Rhys had immediately voted for Westbridge, as you would’ve thought he’d lost a limb when we left there three years earlier and he had to say goodbye to Wes. The two had been inseparable since Rhys’s first day at Westbridge Elementary. My brother had dropped his lunch, and Wes shared his grilled cheese sandwich with him. The bond they formed over two pieces of bread resulted in a lifelong friendship. With so many ties to Virginia, my parents figured moving back was a win-win for everyone. Oh, and of course there is Butler Gymnastics Academy where I had trained for years before we moved.
I’ve done gymnastics my entire life, so it was a no-brainer to rejoin Butler’s as soon as my boxes were unpacked. I kept up with it in North Carolina, but it wasn’t the same. Every academy has its individual training method, and I remember being so nervous that I wouldn’t make the cut. Denielle took one look at me during my first practice session and flashed me a grin. "I like you. I think we’ll be best friends." And that was it. Luckily for us, we also attended the same middle school, and she’s been by my side ever since. There was never a question we would compete for spots on the school team as soon as we started high school.
I finish my wrap,and Denielle is coming up on thirty-four minutes. My attention is fading quickly. My mind drifts again, and I remember the second week of our freshman year when Charlie literally ran Denielle over. He was coming out of the cafeteria, late for his next class, and we were about to enter for our lunch period. His head was turned, talking to one of his buddies, when he plowed her down. It was comical; her books went flying, and the contents of his opened backpack went everywhere. Den was about to let him have it when their eyes locked. Both of them just stared at each other, slack-jawed. They went on their first date the following weekend and have been together ever since. They have one of those relationships you only read about—the perfect couple. They complement each other in every way: where she is spontaneous and temperamental, he is calculated and level-headed. Even their fights make you want to gag at how perfect they are. Sometimes, I wonder how they make it work. Anyway, Charlie left for college this summer, and they are working their way through a long-distance relationship. So far, it’s been going well, but Thanksgiving will be the first time he’s been back, and to say Den is excited would be like saying the sun iskindawarm.
"He’ll regret sendingme all these naughty texts and then not acting on them."
Emma and Sloane laugh at Denielle’s comment, and I just roll my eyes. "You are so full of it. First of all, how could he act on it, being three states away? And second, the minute you two are alone, you’ll jump his bones."
Den grins at me sideways. "Wasn’t that what I was referring to?"
I just shake my head and gather my things. "Grab your stuff. I don’t want to be late for journalism again. Mr. Davey said we’d get our research assignment today."
"Geek."
"Love you, too. Get your ass moving."
"You haveuntil after break to finish your paper. We’ve talked a lot about the news in the last few weeks—how subjectively things are being presented based on the presenter. I want you to pick a current news topic. It can be anything from economics, politics, even a recent criminal case, and research the entire subject. What is being reported and how is it presented versus what you believe is being left out and why."
Mr. Davey mentioning a criminal case immediately intrigues me. Economics and politics have never really interested me. I’m more a math and computer science kinda girl. Plus, our household is composed of an attorney and a former Marine. Heated discussions over politics are a given, which is a reason I stay clear of it as much as I can. Criminal case it is.
I glancetoward the table by the windows where Lilly and her friends had taken up residence during the first week of freshman year. As much as the three middle tables are ours, that one ispropertyof Denielle, Sloane, Emma, and Lilly, with the occasional visit from a random student. Lilly is staring out the window while Sloane and Emma hang on Denielle’s every word. I press my lips together to hide the smile that wants to creep across my face from seeing Lilly’s bored expression. I wonder what the topic of Den’s monologue is that evokes such an opposite reaction in Lilly versus her two friends. Not that I would ever dare ask. If I did, the answer wouldn’t extend beyond Denielle’s middle finger. Turning back to my table, a chuckle escapes me at the visual in my mind, and Wes gives methe eyebrow.Purposefully ignoring my best friend, I shove another forkful of the disgustingandcold spaghetti in my mouth. How the cafeteria folks can fuck up something simple like spaghetti is beyond me.
The last twoclasses are dragging. All I can think about is today’s practice since Coach decided to jam extra sessions in before break. I walk between Wes and Jager toward the gym when my girlfriend appears in front of us. Kat gives my friends her usual sultry eye flutter before she wraps her arm around mine and pulls me toward the guys’ bathroom we just passed.
"Excuse us, guys. I need Rhys to take care of something for mereallyquick."
She gives me a sidelong glance, and I know exactly what goes through my best friend’s and teammate’s heads.
Awesome.
Wes fist bumps me as I’m being dragged away, and Jager hoots loudly. However, before we get to the bathroom door, I stumble into someone, which is followed by, "What the fuck, McGuire?"
This is getting better by the minute.
I turn toward the voice and come nose to nose with Lilly’s best friend andmyarchenemy. With her four-inch heels, Denielle is almost at eye level with me, and we stare at each other—neither of us budging. I put my most bored expression on, one I have mastered over the last few years, but before I can say anything, Kat sneers from my side, "Watch where you’re going. You’re holding us up."
Kat intimidates ninety-nine percent of the school’s female population, but not Denielle Keller. She just raises an eyebrow and looks between her and me before settling on Kat.
"Oh, you mean now you have to finish him off in three minutes versus five?" Her gaze travels to me, and with a smirk, she continues, "I think you’ll be fine. From what I’ve heard, you two never need more than two."
Instead of walking around me, she bumps her shoulder into mine with as much force as she’s able to gather in the short distance between us.
As I follow Den’s retreating form, a hiss comes from Kat that sounds something along the lines ofbitch, but instead of engaging, Den just flips her the finger and keeps walking. I bite the inside of my cheek not to burst out laughing and let Kat drag me the rest of the way into the bathroom.
After ensuring we’re alone, she rounds on me. "You’ve been ignoring me this week."
