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ChapterOne
Agame was never just a game, Raina learned. When you were playing with the Ashcrofts, even the smallest comment could turn into a full-blown war. But the Ashcrofts knew that all games had an ending; Nicole Lawrence had yet to learn that lesson.
“When I say something, it’s just a game, but when Raina says something, you all take it seriously?”
Gracie scoffed. “Um, you’re the only one who’s taking it seriously.”
Raina remembered staying quiet. She remembered sitting on the couch, curled up in the cushions. She remembered laughing with Jesse and teasing him about his taste in movies, before Nicole had gotten upset, before everything had fallen apart.
“You’re never around to play any games, so don’t talk! I’m sick and tired of you and everyone else always taking Raina’s side. I’m gone for two months and you replaced me, Gracie. I thought we were closer than that, but you’re just like everyone else in this fucking school.
I come back and it’s all about Raina—Raina did this, Raina did that! Raina’s all over Jesse, Raina has a crush on him and therefore you all take her side, Raina—”
And that was all Raina remembered.
Not literally, of course. She remembered running out of the room, bursting into tears and then avoiding Jesse and Nicole until they went back to school. It hadn’t been hard—they were avoiding her too.
But if you were talking about the words that replayed over and over in her head, spiraling with jolts of shame and embarrassment, Raina’s memory had chosen the worst ones to keep at the front of her mind. They were present each day as Raina encountered both Jesse and Nicole in class, ducking her gaze as she slid silently into her seat. They remained as Raina ate lunch outdoors, her usual picnic partner absent.
Nicole’s loss didn’t bother her; the other girl had never liked her and had always done her best to tear Raina and Jesse apart. But Jesse? He wasn’t so easy to forget.
“It’s a rather unknown fact that Romeo Montague, of the famousRomeo and Juliet, had two romances. Before he met Juliet, Romeo was in love with her cousin,” Mrs. Dixon’s sharp voice cut through the classroom, jerking Raina out of her thoughts.
She blinked just in time for her English teacher’s stern gaze to be leveled at her.
“Sorry, can you repeat the question?”
Poorly concealed snickers rang through the room and Raina sank down in her chair. Her flats slid against the floor, the squeak of the new shoes audible as Mrs. Dixon motioned for the class to quiet down.
“There was no question, Ms. Cohen.” Exhaustion was clear on the teacher’s face, strands of her graying hair escaping her tight bun. Mrs. Dixon pulled her glasses off and set them on her desk, her narrowed eyes unrelenting. “But perhaps I’ll have one for you when you see me after class.”
“Yes, Mrs. Dixon,” Raina mumbled, her eyes darting everywhere but the desk at the front of the room. She flipped open her untouched copy ofRomeo and Juliet, burying her reddened face in the pages.
Raina managed to escape notice for the rest of class, amusing herself by doodling on scrap paper. Normally she’d be frantically writing notes, but the past few weeks Raina had lacked the energy to do anything productive. The bell rang and her classmates hurriedly shoved their books into bags and ran out of the room, but Raina had other plans. Crouching by her frayed purple backpack, she slowly began packing her things.
Pencil into pencil case. Pen into pencil case. Eraser into pencil case.
“Ms. Cohen, there is no delaying the inevitable,” Mrs. Dixon announced from the front of the room.
Wincing, Raina straightened—ready to face the music.
“I’m sorry?” she offered meekly.
“What are you sorry for?”
Raina glanced down at her flats. There was a scuff on the side of her left shoe that hadn’t been there a few days ago. “I don’t know.”
“Ms. Cohen—Raina,” the teacher corrected herself. “Is everything alright?”
“I haven’t been sleeping a lot,” Raina admitted. “But it’s fine. I’m working on it.”
Raising her eyebrows, Mrs. Dixon shuffled through a stack of papers on her desk, sliding one in front of Raina. “You got a B on your last essay, Raina. An alright grade for another student, but not you. I’ve never seen you receive less than an A minus in my class, and that was only when you didn’t realize there was a question on the other side of the sheet.”
Raina crossed her arms defensively. “I’m allowed to have an off day, am I not?”
“You are. However, I recall a discussion we had about that A minus during which you told me you cannotaffordan off day.”
“I have to be accepted into a good college,” Raina repeated, her words carbon copies of those from last month. “My mom says—”
