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My mom follows with her cell in hand.
"Let me take a picture of you two," she calls out, waving to Trey as she follows me out of the house in her high heels.
She doesn't realize that Victor Salazar is in Trey's car. My mom halts as soon as she notices him.
"Oh," she says, taken aback.
No matter what I tell my parents, Vic's reputation speaks for itself. He's been arrested for fighting more than a few times, and they don't like that we have the same friends. He also has a perpetual grim look on his face. I think it's his way of telling people not to get too close so they don't know how messed up his family life is.
"Okay, um, well..." Mom practically stutters.
Trey steps out of the car. "Vic, come on. Mrs. Fox wants to take a picture of us."
"I think she wants to take a picture of just you and Monika," Vic says, his gravelly voice sounding like he doesn't give a shit if he's included in the picture.
I open the passenger door and pull on Vic's arm. "Come on," I say. "It's picture time."
"I don't do pictures," he mumbles.
"Humor me," I tell him. "Let's get this over with quick so we're not late and don't get detentions."
Vic shrugs. "I actually want to be late."
Mom clears her throat as Vic steps out of the car. I haven't seen him much this summer, and he looks totally buff. Trey and Vic have been working out a lot in preparation for the upcoming football season. He's wearing a football jersey like Trey, but Vic has on ripped jeans while Trey is wearing skinny jeans that show off his lean, muscular legs. They're best friends but different in so many ways.
I situate myself between the guys and smile while my mom takes the picture.
"Text me a copy of that," Trey says.
"Sure thing," Mom says, texting him from her phone. Yep, my parents have my boyfriend's phone number programmed into their contacts.
Vic shakes his head the slightest bit, as if he can't understand how Trey could be so accepted by his girlfriend's parents. Vic is a guy who avoids parental interaction as much as possible.
When we arrive at school ten minutes later, we walk in the building and congregate in the senior hallway. All our friends are here. Derek and Ashtyn are staring into each other's eyes as if they're trying to jump into each other's souls. Bree is fixing her hair, making sure she looks better than perfect. Jet is getting the attention of all the single girls. He's used to it, especially after he started modeling and his picture popped up in stores and magazines. He's become a mini-celebrity in Fremont.
Trey, who's been by my side the entire time, gets a text. He turns his phone away so I don't see the screen, making me feel like he's hiding something.
"I'll be right back," he says.
"Why? What's up? Who just texted you?"
Ugh. I'm aware I sound like a clingy, controlling girlfriend. Last week when we hung out he was preoccupied with texting someone on his phone. He told me it was his cousin a bunch of times, then he told me his sister kept texting him. I didn't question it then, but I'm feeling like there's a wall between us right now.
"It's my dad," Trey explains. "He wants me to call him. I'll be back." He gives me a peck on the lips. "Love ya."
"I love you too," I say, the words coming out automatically.
I watch him walk away, and a sinking feeling fills my stomach.
I turn around to see Cassidy Richards walk over to Vic, whose locker is next to mine. She plays with the ends of her long, curly blond hair and licks her lips. It's obvious she wants his attention, but he's not biting.
"Hey, Vic," Cassidy says in a flirty tone.
"'Sup," he responds.
Cassidy is on the cheer squad with me and definitely tries to get information about Vic's life whenever she can. I work on decorating my locker while trying to ignore their conversation. It's hard, though, since it's happening right in front of me.
"I heard you got in a fight last night," Cassidy says in an accusatory tone. "Over Heather Graves. So do you like her now?"
Vic closes his locker. "Seriously?" he says.
Cassidy puts her hands on her hips. "It's a legit question."
"No, it's not."
"Fine, be that way." She huffs a few times. "I was just trying to make conversation."
"You were tryin' to start gossip," he responds.
Cassidy storms away while Vic shakes his head in frustration.
I attach a mirror and decorate the inside of my locker with pictures of friends and magazine cutouts, aware that Vic is watching me.
"What?" I ask when he shakes his head.
He gestures to the pictures. "Why do you need to decorate your locker?"
"Because looking at pictures of my friends and things I like makes me smile." I gesture to his perpetual stoic expression. "You should try it sometime. Smiling is good for you, you know."
His jaw is set in a grim line as he glances at Cassidy across the hallway gossiping with her friends. "Maybe I got nothin' to smile about."
"Come on, Vic. Everyone has something to smile about."
"That's you, Monika. Not me."
If he only knew.
He leans against his locker as Brandon Butter walks up to him. "Umm, Vic... um, I don't really want to be the one to tell you this, but someone saw one of your sisters go down H hall with Luke Handler."
Vic mumbles a slew of profanity that would probably get him sent to the principal's office if any teacher heard him.
Luke Handler is known for trying to hook up with as many girls as he can. He's also got this habit of posting pictures of girls making out with him online. It boosts his ego and his playboy status. He's perfected the way he convinces each girl that, unlike all the girls before her, she's the only one who can turn him into a committed, monogamous boyfriend. While Luke ends up looking like a stud when the "relationship" quickly ends, the girls end up with bad reputations.
Vic's face turns from stoic to lethal.
"I'll smile while kicking Luke Handler's ass," he says to me, then storms down the hallway toward H hall.
"Don't get yourself in trouble," I call out, even though I know Vic doesn't fear getting into trouble.
Someone needs to tell Victor Salazar that fighting and smiles aren't supposed to mix. Ever.
Chapter Three
VICTOR
Dani is a freshman, so she has no clue that hanging out in H hall is a bad thing. It takes a few days for the new freshmen to learn that if you want to hook up, you go to H hall to avoid being seen by teachers.
H hall is also considered the hos' den.
I hear the bell ring just as I catch sight of Luke Handler talking to my sister, looming over her as she leans against the solid brick wall. She's looking up at him, batting her eyelashes and giggling at something he just told her.
"Yo, Handler!" I call out just as the douche bag is about to touch her face with his grimy hands. I grab his collar and look into his beady eyes. "What're you doin'?"
The dude holds up his hands. "Uh... nothing."
"Doesn't look like nothin' to me, man."
Handler looks from Dani to me. "Is she your girlfriend or something?"
I sneer at him. "No. She's my sister, you piece of shit. If I see you even look at her again, take her to H hall again, or take any picture with her and post it online, you'll be starin' at my fist instead of my face. Got it?"
The guy swallows, hard. "Sure. I--I got it."
As I let go of his collar and he rushes down the hall to get as far away from me as he can, the sound of my sister's exaggerated groan echoes in the air. "Oh my God, Vic! You are such a dork! I'm just trying to have some fun here. Are you always going to ruin everything?"
"Yes."
She rolls her eyes. "I'm not prissy Marissa. If he did something I didn't want to do, he'd have my knee in his balls."
I don't doubt that, but Dani isn't used to guys like Kiss-and-Tell Handler.
The late bell rings. Damn.
"Marissa is probably i
n class right now," I tell her. "Which is a helluva lot better than bein' in H hall with Fremont's resident player. He wanted you to hook up with him so he could show off what a stud he is and post shit all over the Internet. That's not happenin' on my watch. Now go back to class before the security guards catch you ditchin'."
My sister gathers her books and starts walking away from me. "You're a hypocrite, Vic," she says. "You act like you're all high-and-mighty when you're the biggest fuckup at this school. Rumor has it people are making bets on whether or not you'll end up graduating or in jail by the end of the year. You want me to tell you which one has the best odds?"
"No."
She flashes me a satisfied, wicked grin that reminds me of Papa, before strutting off to class.
I round the corner to M hall for my first-period class and come face-to-face with the man who's supposed to keep Fremont free of drugs, violence, and troublemakers.
