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Prologue
TILLIE
I can’t do much more than watch as Emily works her way through the crowded halls, calling out to friends and waving at just about everyone on our second day of school. I follow in her wake, like a shadow, holding my books to my chest as I try to make myself small enough to disappear. I don’t garner attention and as a result, more times than naught, I get hit in the face or head by either the shoulders of kids that are crowding the halls or their backpacks.
I'm frazzled and out of sorts. I like being on time, but trying to find my class in a sea of kids makes it all but impossible. I wish I could be more like Emily. She is so graceful, every inch the homecoming queen and cheerleading captain. I mean, she hasn’t achieved that yet this year, but it’s pretty much a foregone conclusion. Emily thrives with people, whereas I would prefer with every fiber of my being to be alone. We are complete opposites. I'm not sure how we ended up being best friends, but we have been since I moved here to Pine Ridge, from Maine, in the middle of sixth grade. I think it was mostly my culture shock of being thrown into the middle of cowboy country and me being shy and awkward that made Emily take pity on me. I'm totally okay with that. I’ve always been grateful to have someone who cared about me. It makes me feel less alone.
I watch as Emily sails in front of me without a backward glance. I want to ask her to help me find my room, but I feel foolish. I don’t want to be too needy. Emily has been great at helping me not feel so alone, but I know I get on her nerves sometimes. Plus, I hate that I’m afraid to be on my own a lot. It makes me feel weak. It wouldn’t matter. She doesn’t have time for me this morning. She is in a hurry. I frown, thinking she’s making a huge mistake.
I glance down at my schedule, trying to find the classroom number, letting out a frustrated sigh when I realize that I’m not even close to where I need to be.Will this ever get easier?I sure hope the people that say high school years are the best in your life are liars. If they’re not, I’m screwed.
I’m miserable.
It’s not like I’m not putting forth an effort either. I am. Every day, I try to do something to help me fit in around here. Today is no different. I had the bright idea that since I’m Emily’s best friend, I should try to step up my style game. That way she wouldn’t be ashamed to be seen with me. Which means that although I’m swimming in despair, I’m doing it wearing the designer jeans that everyone's been talking about and a button-up chambray shirt which everyone here in Wyoming seems to favor. I can’t seem to even get that right, however. I purchased mine at a small second-hand store on the edge of town and they are both about a size too small. The shirt is so tight that it makes me afraid to breathe. That does come in handy, however, since my jeans are making it hard to sit and walk—let alone worry about oxygen. I thought when I bought them, I’d go on a diet and lose enough weight to make them work. I forgot the part of my DNA makeup that insists I eat when I get stressed. I fully regret my decisions right now, however.
In truth, it’s all just too much. I’ve been miserable since moving—even though I try to keep it hidden for my parents’ benefit. Still, I don't fit in here. I knew it would be this way. I am a girl that is blessed with high allergies. The big three being, horses, hay, and dust. Those also happen to be the staples that Wyoming exists on. When I get older, I will be moving somewhere colder, and it might get bonus points if it rains all the time.
I turn my attention back to my homemade map of the school, trying desperately to figure out which way will take me to English Lit. “Oof,” I exhale as I run into a solid wall. The breath knocked out of me is audible. I look up, pushing my glasses back on the bridge of my nose.
Ryder Moore.
My heart plummets to my stomach as embarrassment floods me, burning my cheeks. This isn't the first time I've made a fool of myself in front of Ryder. Somehow, it comes naturally for me to do the most embarrassing things if he's there to witness it. He's Emily's long-term boyfriend and is around most of the time.
“Are you okay...um...?” he asks. His forehead crinkles as he looks at me in confusion. He's forgotten my name...Again.
“Jerk,” I mumble as I move to pick up my stuff. “The name is Tillie. We've known each other since sixth grade, Ryder.” I don’t bother to hide my annoyance—I’m too busy ignoring the way it hurts.
“Yeah, I know that,” he lies, covering for his embarrassment as his cheeks turn red. “Have you seen Emmie?"
I sigh. Even though I think he's a jerk, I've had a secret crush on him for years. No one knows. Besides, he's been hung up on Emily forever, and they've been together since I arrived in Wyoming. He thinks I hate him, which is fine because it's safer that way. Emily would never forgive me if she knew I thought of Ryder like that, and Ryder… He’d likely be grossed out. He doesn't even see me as a person, let alone girlfriend material.
Right now, I feel bad for him. His world would shatter if he knew Emily was currently under the stairwell making out with Chad Martin—just like she has every morning since school started. She's been secretly dating the star football player Chad Martin for the last couple of weeks. I hate keeping the secret, but Emily is my best friend and I have to—even if I don’t like it. Besides, Ryder would be so hurt. He’s hopelessly devoted to her. It would kill him if he knew, and I doubt he would believe me if I told him anyway.
I tried to convince Emily to break it off with Ryder first instead of cheating on him. She said she needed to make sure Chad was what she wanted before she did that. I told her that was kind of cold, but she never listens to my advice, at least not when it comes to dating. She says I don’t understand the way everything is done. Maybe she’s right. I haven’t even had a boyfriend. Still, if this is how you treat someone that loves you, I don’t really want to be in a relationship. I shake my head, pushing my thoughts away, bending down to retrieve my books.
“She volunteered to help Ms. Thomas in the science lab this morning,” I lie. “She said she would see you at lunch,” I mumble, trying not to look him in the eye. I’m not the best liar in the world. I catch sight of Ryder's frown, and my heart squeezes in my chest as guilt threatens to drown me. I shouldn’t keep covering for her.
“She didn't mention that to me,” Ryder grumbles.
“It must not have been planned. I only heard about it this morning.”
“I wish she had texted me.”
“Her phone was dead. She probably will after Ms. Thomas lets her charge it while they work.” I am inventing shit off the top of my head, getting deeper and deeper into the lie. I hate feeling guilty and God, I am. I wish I had just ignored him.
I have all my books but one that’s just a little out of my reach. I’ve been dreading that one because I’ll have to stretch and that’s not fun in these clothes. I swear, when I get home, I’m going to lock myself in my room and just let my fat-self breathe completely naked.
When Ryder squats down to join me, I panic—with a capital P. I've never been this close to him before. I bite into my lip to keep from moaning as the scent of his cologne threatens to pull me under. I look at the floor trying to figure a way out of this before I make a fool of myself. I need to get out of here.
I stretch out to grab the last book, but so does he. Our foreheads collide, sending a stab of pain through me. “Ow,” I groan, rubbing my head. I turn away from him, intending to stand up. He picks the same exact moment to lean forward again, causing us to crash into each other again. This time, he hits the back of my head and I jerk from the shock, lifting my head up to look around and it causes the hit to be harder than it would have been.
“Son of a bitch,” he curses. When I turn around, he’s holding his nose.
"I'm sorry," I mumble, rubbing the back of my head.
It’s hard to reach the spot that hurts—mostly because my shirt is so tight. I extend my arm trying to get to it and the motion tugs on my shirt. I realize my mistake when the movement puts tension on the buttons, and I hear a slight tearing sound. I watch in disbelief as the top button pops off quickly followed by two others, who can’t take the strain of holding my breasts on their own.
I’m frozen in shock as I watch the buttons sail through the air. I wouldn’t have thought it could get much worse than that, but I was wrong.So wrong.It’s like I’m trapped inside a horror movie, and everything is being shot in slow motion. As one of the buttons makes a beeline for Ryder’s eye. I can’t make my hands work to try and stop it. I can do nothing but watch it bounce into his pupil and hear him hiss when it connects.
