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“He’s more realistic than Harrison,” Sydney says.
She’s had a crush on Harrison Baker—the star of the football team—ever since she started high school. Right along with most of Pembrooke High’s female population.
“Reality is good.”
The statement rings with sincerity. Fantasy has broken my heart more times than I’d ever admit.
Maggie streaks out from the house, her yellow raincoat a stark contrast to the gray sky and brown grass. She dives into the backseat and tugs her hood down. “You couldn’t have parked in the garage, Cassia?”
“You couldn’t have taken less than twenty minutes in the bathroom?” I counter. “I had to use Mom and Dad’s.”
“I don’t see the issue. We both got ready on time. Problem solved.”
I glance at the clock on the dash before I back out of the driveway and roll my eyes. On time is a stretch. “I figured you’d be eager to get to school. Don’t you have Ceramics first period today?”
“Yes. Which is exactly why I couldn’t show up to school looking like a troll.”
I roll my eyes again. I wasn’t nearly as dramatic as Maggie when I was fourteen. At least I don’t think I was. But we are alike in other ways. I can be just as stubborn as she is. I also make too many boy-centered decisions.
“You’re dressing up for Ceramics?” Sydney asks. “Isn’t that kind of pointless?”
“She’s dressing up for Ben Howard,” I reply, flicking on a blinker before I turn at the end of our street.
“Who’s Ben Howard?”
“Basketball player,” I mumble. Maggie and I also have similar taste in guys, it seems.
Maggie leans forward from the backseat and holds her phone screen out to show something to Sydney. “That’s him. Isn’t he cute?”
“Super cute,” Sydney agrees.
“Maggie! Seatbelt!”
My younger sister lets out a long-suffering sigh. “You’re no fun, Cassia.”
I know I’m not.
I’m bitter and jaded and set in my ways—at seventeen.
Sydney gives me a sympathetic look as I turn off the main road into the high school’s parking lot. Rain is falling faster now, in rapid rivers of water that stream down the windshield quicker than the wipers can keep up with. I flick the control to a higher speed before navigating into an open spot toward the middle of the lot.
Maggie is out of the car before I’ve even turned it off, a cursory goodbye tossed over one shoulder.
Sydney laughs at her hasty departure. “To be young and in love and eager to make pottery.”
I laugh too. But inside I’m wondering what that would be like—being bold enough to chase after who you want. To have the person you want to see be excited to see you back.
I search the parking lot as we hurry inside the school, even though I know I shouldn’t. Searching out Holden never ends well. He’s either surrounded by girls or talking with friends. Never paying any attention to me.
His truck isn’t in the lot, which means he went somewhere else before school. I tell myself not to care, but that tactic has never worked before. I focus on Sydney instead, listening to her describe the conversation she had with Graham lastnight in more detail. Watch her face beam with excitement and anticipation.
Like me, Sydney veers toward what’s expected. Our motivations are similar, which is probably part of why we’re such good friends. Her mom left when she was young and her dad works for a shipping company, logging hundreds of miles driving every week. Her father’s sister used to come and stay with Sydney and Holden when they were younger, but now they mostly stay home alone. Holden took on the role of the reckless sibling and so I think Sydney feels an obligation to be the responsible one.
My parents have five other kids to worry about, so I adopt a similar mentality. Plus, it’s been my dream to become a veterinarian for as long as I can remember. Doing well in school is necessary to pursue that path.
Spencer is next to my locker when I reach it, fiddling with his own combination a couple doors down.
“Morning, Cassia.”
