Текст книги "Confessions of a Kleptomaniac"

Автор книги: Jessica Sorensen

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Текущая страница: 3 (всего у книги 15 страниц)

By the time lunch arrives, my brain is drained. I’ve spent half the day obsessing over why Grey was so nice to me and whether he’ll keep his promise not to tell anyone my secret. I haven’t heard any rumors plaguing the hallways, though, so that has to be a good sign.

After I grab some snacks and a soda from the vending machines, I join Ari, Beckett, and Wynter outside under the trees. We sometimes leave campus to eat lunch, but my friends always stick around with me and offer moral support when I have to ride out my mother’s punishment.

“This is the worst idea ever.” Wynter playfully whacks Beckett in the back of the head as she sits down on the grass beside me, and he blasts her with a nasty look. “Why would you get Luna into this kind of situation? Why, Beckett? Why? You know how much she hates Grey Sawyer.”

“I don’t hate him.” I rip open a bag of cheese crackers to eat.

“That’s because you’re too nice.” Wynter steals a cracker from my bag and pops it into her mouth. “But deep down, under that niceness, you kinda, sorta hate him, even if you won’t admit it. You have since sophomore year.”

“Hey, I never actually made Grey pay for spreading that rumor about you back in tenth grade, did I?” Beckett slides on his sunglasses. “I should probably do something about that.”

“You mean, like manipulating Luna into tutoring him?” Wynter asks, rummaging through her purse with her head tucked down. “Because that’s a great freakin’ way to make Grey pay for being an asshole. He ends up with good grades, and Luna ends up traumatized from his douche-baggery.”

“Luna didn’t have to agree to tutor him,” Ari says, picking the crust off his sandwich. “She could’ve said no.”

“Don’t be a traitor. Remember who loves you more,” Wynter warns, pointing a finger at Ari.

Ari adjusts his square-frame glasses and brushes his shaggy brown hair out of his eyes. “Since when do you love me more? Because, if I recall, Beckett wasn’t the one who yelled at me for spilling his beer.”

“Hate to break it to you, dude, but when it comes to love, I think Wynter’s your girl,” Beck says with his head tipped down as he scrolls through his phone. “I mean, I’m all for an occasional bromance here and there, but love really isn’t my thing.”

Ari rolls his eyes. “You know that’s not what I meant. I just meant that you’re nicer than she is a lot of the time, but you know what? I’m going to take that back.”

Wynter grins smugly at Beckett. “See? I’m the nicer one.”

Beckett snorts a laugh. “Yeah, okay.”

Wynter lightly smacks Beckett’s arm, and he ignores her, which seems to irritate her more. She places her hands on her hips and starts teasing him about being a pothead until Beckett finally scowls at her. Then she smiles, satisfied with herself, while Ari and I exchange a look.

We had a conversation once about the two of them probably secretly being in love, and all the fighting is just sexual tension. That’s Ari’s theory, anyway. I’m not really buying into it just yet. I wonder if they’ve known each other for so long they have more of a sibling relationship than anything.

“So, are you really going to tutor Grey Sawyer?” he asks me loudly over Beckett and Wynter’s bickering.

“I don’t want to, but I already told him I would.” I stuff a cracker into my mouth. “And I can’t think of a way to get out of it without being a jerk.”

He bites down into his sandwich. “You’re allowed to be a jerk every once in a while. You don’t have to be so nice all the time.”

“I could say the same thing to you.” And I’m not nice all the time, not even close. I just keep my dirty, little secrets hidden because the Harveys aren’t supposed to be bad or mean or improper.

“Hey, I can be mean sometimes,” Ari tries to argue, peeling more crust off his bread.

I laugh. “You so cannot. You’re like the nicest guy ever. Inside and out.”

“I can, too,” he insists. “I think everyone is mean at some point in their lives, right?”

“Okay, I see your point, but still—”

“God, I’m so tired I can’t even see straight.” Willow drops her bag next to me then dramatically falls down on the grass and drapes her arm over her head.

“Napping helps with that,” Beckett says, stealing the bottle of water from Wynter’s hand. “Trust me, I’m an expert.”

“I’m sure you are, but I can’t nap,” Willow unties the over-shirt that’s around her waist, balls it up, and tucks it under her head like a pillow. “My mind won’t slow down enough.”

“I have something that can help with that,” Beckett offers, reaching for his bag.

“No way.” I point a finger at Beck. “I’m not going to let you corrupt our Willow.”

“I’m just giving her a choice.” Beck raises his hands in front of him, surrendering. “Chillax, Lu.”

“He’s not going to corrupt me,” Willow murmurs, her eyelids drifting closed. “I’m already corrupted.”

The four of us look at each other then burst into a fit of laughter.

Willow constrains a smile. “Mock all you want, but I’ve done some bad things. I’ve even came this close”—she holds up her finger and thumb an inch apart—“to being a bad girl.”

“Sticking your gum on the bottom of the desk doesn’t count as being a bad girl,” Beckett says, resting his arms on his knees. “Admit it, Wills, you’re too sweet to be bad.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right.” Willow rolls on her side and cranes her neck to look at him. “That’s more Wynter’s and your thing. Me, Ari, and Luna have to be good to make up for all the bad stuff you two do.”

I set down the bag of crackers, no longer hungry anymore.

“Oh, you think I’m bad, huh?” Beckett teases as he jumps to his feet. “I’ll show you how bad I can be.”

Willow’s eyes pop open, and she scrambles to get up, but Beck snags her by the back of her shirt, yanks her back against him, and tickles the crap out of her.

“Beck, stop!” Willow begs as she tries to squirm out of his hold. “I take it back, okay? You’re good!”

“Say I’m a good boy,” Beck says as he tickles her sides. “And that you love me.”

“Fine! You’re a good boy and I love you!” she manages to get out through her laughter.

Instead of letting her go, he lies on the ground and brings her down with him. Then he rolls on his side and tucks his arm underneath her head. With how close they act, I sometimes wonder if there’s something going on between the two of them. If there is, though, no one seems to know about it.

“My arm’s a better pillow for napping,” Beck insists as he presses his chest against Willow’s back.

“No way. You just think that because you’re cocky,” Willow says, but she rests her head on his arm, and seconds later, her eyelids lower.

Beck looks proud of himself for getting her to relax. It’s a hard thing to do with Willow since she’s usually stressed out about something, has been since the day we became friends back in third grade. She was the quiet, shy girl who wore old clothes that were a little too big for her. She always spent recess on the swings by herself until one day Wynter announced, “She seems sad. We should make her come play hopscotch.” So we marched over there and made her play with us. She didn’t seem too reluctant, though. In fact, she seemed grateful that someone made the effort to get to know her.

But Willow has every reason to be stressed, since she has so much on her plate. On top of helping her parents out financially by working almost every weekend, she’s also trying to get an academic scholarship and spends crazy amounts of hours doing schoolwork.

Beck reaches over with his free hand and steals a handful of crackers from the bag on my lap. “Eat before you sleep,” he says to Willow, offering her the crackers. “You’re too skinny.”

Willow opens her eyes and takes the crackers from Beckett. “Thanks, Beck. I don’t know what I’d do without you sometimes.”

“Probably laugh less.” He gently pinches her in the side before nuzzling against her.

“That’s not fair,” Wynter says to Beck with her lip jutted out. “You’re always nice to Willow and Luna, but all I get from you is being called a spoiled brat.”

“That’s because Will and Lu don’t call me a rich douche all the time,” Beckett mutters. “Nice people get treated nicely.”

I internally grimace. What is with all the nice comments getting thrown in my direction today? My guilt is starting to give me a stomachache.

“I guess I kind of see your point,” Wynter muses thoughtfully, but then her mood fizzles as her gaze darts toward the school. “Oh, boy. Here comes drama.”

I track her gaze to Grey heading in our direction. That lazy smile spreads across his face when he notices me looking at him, and my heart betrays me by fluttering in my chest like a lunatic.

“What a cocky asshole, just like every other damn jock in this school,” Wynter mutters, glaring at him. “He just sees some girls looking in his direction and automatically thinks we’re checking him out.”

She might be wrong, considering I was just kinda, sorta ogling him. Call it a bad habit since tenth grade that I haven’t been able to break.

“Hey, I’m a jock,” Beck says. “And I don’t think like that.”

“You’re not a jock,” Wynter insists. “You just play sports.”

Beck tips his head, slides his sunglasses down, and looks at Wynter. “What’s the difference?”

“Jocks are sports guys who hang out with other sports guys and obsess about sports and think they’re so awesome because they can throw and kick a ball,” Wynter explains. “You, my friend, hang out with a bunch of weirdoes who don’t ever want to hear about any of the sports you play. See? That’s how much we love you. Enough that we haven’t let you fall into the jock mold.”

“Gee, thanks.” Beck shakes his head in disbelief.

“You’re welcome,” Wynter replies, beaming. “And you say I never compliment you.”

“Hey,” Grey says to me, interrupting the conversation.

Ari, Wynter, Beck, and I all look up at him, while Willow remains asleep on Beck’s arm. Some of Grey’s confidence diminishes from our scrutinizing gazes.

“Are you lost or something?” Wynter points at the school. “The gym’s that way.”

“I know where the gym is.” Grey shoots me a quizzical glance and I shrug.

Wynter crisscrosses her legs then rests back on her hands. “So why aren’t you there? That is where all you jockheads hang out all the time, right?”

“Be nice,” I beg Wynter. “Please.”

“Why? He and his steroid friends aren’t nice to anyone other than Dixie, Mixie, and the ditz squad.” Wynter looks at Grey with her brows raised, challenging him to argue with her.

Grey seems the slightest bit amused, the corners of his lips twitching. “If you’re talking about the girls on the cheerleading squad, then I think their names are Dixie and Pixie, not Dixie and Mixie.”

“You’d know better than I would”—Wynter folds her arms across her chest and pins him with her best sassy smirk—“since you’ve probably screwed every single one of them.”

Ari chokes on a mouthful of food while Beck grumbles, and Willow bites down on her bottom lip to restrain a smile while keeping her eyes closed.

Grey lifts a shoulder. “I guess you’d know better than I do since you seem to know everything about me.”

“You said you needed to talk to me?” I say to Grey as I leap to my feet.

His gaze sweeps across my friends before landing back on me. “Can we talk somewhere more private?”

Wynter mouths, “Privately? No way.”

I turn my back on Wynter and gesture at Grey. “Yeah, sure. Lead the way.”

“Be careful, Lu. Don’t let him try to charm you with his jock good looks,” Wynter hollers as Grey and I start across the grass toward the center of the quad. “Remember tenth grade.”

My cheeks heat. I love Wynter to death, but she really needs to stop saying every single thing that pops into her head.

Grey remains silent as we make our way around the people eating lunch on the grass. I catch people gawking at us and cringe when we pass by Piper Talperson, Grey’s girlfriend for the last year.

Grey has stuck to his type over the years, and Piper fits it impeccably: a popular cheerleader with curves. Her hair and makeup are always flawlessly done, and she wears the latest fashions. Honestly, she reminds me a lot of Wynter; only, Wynter has more of an edge to her style and is a hell of a lot nicer.

Looking annoyed, Piper stands up from the bench she’s sitting on and pushes her way over to us. “Babe, where are you going?” she asks Grey, snagging the sleeve of his shirt to stop him.

Grey stops in his tracks, casting an uneasy glance at me as he faces her. “I just need to talk to Luna about something for class,” he explains to Piper.

“Oh, hey, is it Luna?” she says like she just noticed me standing there and has never met me before.

“Yeah.” I force a smile, even though I’m not a huge fan of Piper.

She’s not that nice of a person. I’ve seen her do a lot of cruel things, like openly mocking the other girls in our gym class, calling them fat and ugly and flat chested—yeah, the last one was directed toward me. She also loves to gossip, and I’ve seen her destroy many people’s reputations by outing their darkest secrets.

Her lip curls before she zeroes in on Grey again. “I thought we were going out to lunch together.” She tucks a strand of her long, brown hair behind her ear and flutters her eyelashes as she peers up at him.

“I told you I couldn’t today,” Grey says, sounding tired.

She juts out her bottom lip. “But you’ve been saying that every day since the beginning of the school year. I’m getting bored of staying at school for lunch.”

“Then why don’t you leave campus with your friends?” Grey slips his arm from her hold. “You know you’d be happier if you went with them, anyway.”

“Why are you being such a dick?” She glares at me like somehow it’s my fault.

Not wanting to get involved in their drama, I tell Grey, “I’m going to go wait over there.”

Grey nods, seeming relieved. “Yeah, okay.”

I take shelter in the shade and mess around with my phone while casting glances in their direction. At first, they seem like they’re having a heated argument, but then Grey gives her a kiss and walks away with a smile on his face.

I find myself wondering what it would be like to have a boyfriend. I’ve never had the opportunity to date anyone I’ve liked. I’ve never even kissed a guy. Well, unless you count the time Ari, Wynter, Willow, Beck, and I played spin the bottle and I had to kiss Beck. It was painfully awkward to say the least, and the two of us couldn’t even look each other in the eye for a month. After that, I put a ban on playing any more kissing games with the four of them.

“Sorry about that,” Grey apologizes as he approaches me.

“No worries.” I put my phone away and follow him as he rounds the side of the school and back to where no one hangs out. It’s also where Piper and the rest of Grey’s friends can’t see us.

He doesn’t say anything right away, staring at the parking lot to our right where the teachers usually park their cars. I spot Ms. Belingfutor, my Biology teacher, taking a smoke break out by one of the cars, and for some reason, that makes me giggle.

“What’s so funny?” Grey asks with a somewhat intrigued, somewhat confused smile.

“It’s nothing.” I point over at Ms. Belingfutor, puffing away. “I just think it’s funny seeing teachers do stuff like that. It makes them seem so normal, which just seems weird.”

Grey glances from Ms. Belingfutor to me. “I get what you’re saying. There was one time I caught Coach feeling up his wife in his office. Although, that was a little less funny and a lot more disturbing than watching Ms. B smoke.”

I force back a giggle. “You really walked in on them?”

He nods with his eyes wide, as if he’s reliving the horror. “It was horrible and so embarrassing, but what’s even worse was that Coach wanted to talk about it to make sure I wasn’t traumatized. Which I was, but I wasn’t about to tell him that.” He folds his arms across his chest and shifts his weight as his forehead creases. “I’ve never told anyone that before. I know if the guys on the team ever found out, they’d never let me live it down.”

I pick at my fingernails. “Then why’d you just tell me?”

“I don’t know . . . maybe because you’re not on the team, and you’re not a guy, so I know you won’t ask stupid questions, like if Coach’s wife is hot.”

I get his point, but still, it’s not like we’re even close to being friends, which brings up the huge question: why are we here?

“You said you wanted to talk to me about something, and I’m guessing it’s not about how hot your coach’s wife is.”

“Yeah.” He massages the back of his neck tensely. “I wanted to talk to you more about that tutoring thing. I just didn’t want to do it in front of your friends . . . They’re kind of intimidating.”

“My friends are intimidating?” I almost laugh. “Your friends are the ones who are always making fun of people.”

“That’s not what I meant,” he says in a panic. “I just meant that they really care about you. And I knew that whatever I said to you in front of them would be analyzed later and that can be . . .”

“Intimidating,” I finish for him.

He bobs his head up and down, stepping closer to me, and I have to tip my chin up to look at him.

“Any outsider who approaches you guys when you’re all together probably feels a little freaked out.” A lopsided smile tugs at his lips, and I stare at his mouth a few seconds too long.

“People think that about you, too. You can be really intimidating to walk up and talk to, especially when you’re around your friends. Trust me, I know.” I want to smack myself in the head for subtly mentioning the tenth grade dance. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to bring that up.”

“You don’t need to be sorry.” He cracks his knuckles, averting his gaze to the ground as he mutters, “I get where you’re coming from. Back then . . . I was kind of an asshole.”

A beat of awkward silence goes by.

I clear my throat. “You said you wanted to talk about the tutoring thing.”

A relieved breath puffs from his lips. “I just wanted to find out where you wanted to meet up and when.”

“The only place I’m allowed to go to other than my house is the library, and I’d rather not meet up at my house,” I tell him. When his forehead creases, I add, “Trust me, you don’t want to go there, either.”

“Okay.” He waits for me to embellish, but I’m not about to give him the details about my insane home life. “So I guess it’s the library, then.”

“Sounds good to me. You want to meet around four?”

He scratches at the back of his neck. “I actually have practice after school. Maybe around six?”

“Sure. That works.” As long as my mom isn’t on one of her lock-me-in-my-room-after-dinner kicks.

“Okay, it’s a date, then.” One side of his mouth pulls into that sexy half grin I’ve seen him use on a ton of girls over the years.

I smile back, but I’m totally confused. Date? Why did he call this a date?

He didn’t mean it literally. He has a girlfriend, for God’s sake. Jesus, Luna, get a grip.

“Thanks for doing this,” he adds. “Seriously, it’s really awesome of you. Most people aren’t that nice.”

I’m not that nice!

I force a tight smile. “It’s not that big of a deal. Besides, Beck would freak if I didn’t help you, and then you didn’t end up playing in Friday’s game. He hates losing.”

“I think everyone does when you really think about it . . . except you. I can’t really see you being like that.”

“Tell that to Wynter. She won’t even play board games with me anymore.”

“Really? So, you’re a sore loser, huh?” He pokes me in the side teasingly, and I flinch from the sudden unexpectedness of the touch.

“Um, yeah.” I struggle to remember what we are talking about as I grow flustered. Board games. Sore losers. “I once threw all the cards out her bedroom window when we were playing Texas Hold’em, and I lost, like, ten hands in a row. Then there was the whole Candyland fiasco.”

“What happened with that?” he asks, seeming strangely intrigued with my board game dark side.

“I broke the heads off of all the pieces.” I try not to smile, even though it’s kind of funny now. “But keep in mind that I was only eight, and I don’t have any brothers or sisters. Whenever I played games at home, I played by myself and, therefore, always won.”

He struggles not to laugh. “Wow . . . that’s . . .”

“Ridiculous?” I offer. “Insane? Neurotic?”

His grin slips through. “I was actually going to say funny.”

“I’m glad you think so because Wynter didn’t. That’s pretty much when she stopped playing board games with me. She gave me a chance a few years later with the card games, but that ended quickly. I haven’t played since, and none of my other friends will, either.”

He chuckles. “They sound like wimps if you ask me. So what if you broke a few game pieces and threw some cards out the window?” He pokes me in the side teasingly again, and this time, instead of flinching, my stomach does a kick flip. “I’d play with you.”

“I don’t know.” My voice comes out surprisingly even, despite the fact that my nerves are jostled. “You say that now, but I think you’d change your mind once you witnessed the nastiness in all its temper-tantrum form.”

He drums his fingers against the side of his legs with his forehead creased. “I’ll tell you what. How about, at the end of every tutoring session, we play a game of cards? My bet is that you’ll be okay.”

“You want to play cards with me after I help you study?” I question with doubt.

“You say that like it’s weird.”

“It is weird . . . And it kind of seems like you’d think playing cards with me is . . . lame.”

“I love playing cards. I used to play them all the time with my dad.” His face pales at the mention of his dad.

I feel horrible that we got on the topic of parents, especially his dad. From what I’ve heard around school, his dad passed away a few months ago, at the beginning of the summer. I’m not sure how, though.

“But yeah, anyway.” Grey clears his throat as he glances down at his watch. “I have to meet up with someone. Can you give me your number, just in case something happens, and I can’t make it tonight?”

I nod and rattle off my number, and he strangely writes it down on his hand with a pen.

When he notes me staring confusedly at the ink on his palm, he explains, “Some friends of mine thought it’d be funny to play catch with my phone, but then one of them accidentally threw it against the wall.” He shoves the pen into his back pocket. “See you later tonight.” He steps by me to leave, but then stops. “You’re okay with getting to the library, right? Because I can come pick you up if you need me to. I know how super pricey gas can be.”

I catch the faintest hint of pity in his tone. I should confess right then and there that I’m not poor, that I have my parents’ nearly brand new car to drive to the library, but instead, I only mumble, “I’m good, but thanks for the offer.”

“Okay, but if you change your mind, let Beck know. He knows how to get ahold of me. And be prepared to play a game of cards with me.” He stands there for a moment longer before he hurries off toward the front of the school.

Why would Beck know how to get ahold of him? The two of them have never been close or anything, and now Beck’s suddenly the one who knows how to get ahold of him and is giving him envelopes before class?

By the time I make it back to my friends, Willow and Wynter have taken off, and Ari is collecting his things to head inside the school. Beck, however, is still sprawled across the grass, looking as though he has every intention of staying where he is forever.

“Beck, can I talk to you for a sec?” I ask as I pick up my bag and the half eaten bag of crackers off the grass.

He sits up, stretching out his arms. “Sure. What’s up?”

“See you guys later,” Ari says as he gathers the last of his books. “And, Lu, give me a shout later. I think I might have a solution to your tracking problem.”

“Already?” I ask and he nods. “Thanks, Ari. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Probably be stalked by your mom a lot more.” He glances at the school as the bell echoes through the air. “I should get to class, but text me around seven or eight.”

I wave good-bye to him before he turns on his heels and gets swept up in the crowd as he rushes for the entrance doors.

“Man, your mom’s doing that crazy tracking thing again?” Beck gripes as he reaches for his backpack propped against a nearby tree. “What was it about this time?”

“My new choice in clothes,” I say with a sigh.

“She really has control issues, doesn’t she?”

I swallow down the lump in my throat. So do I, Beck. So do I. “Yeah, I guess so.”

He yawns. “So, what did you want to talk to me about?” He holds up his hands in front of him, his eyes sparkling mischievously. “No, wait, let me guess. You want to start dating me so you can bring a bad boy home and drive your mother crazy.”

“I thought Willow said you were a good boy.” I tease. “Or is that just when you’re around her?”

“I’m whoever I need be at the given moment,” he quips, flashing me his pearly whites. “And right now, I think you need a bad boy.”

“Speaking of bad boys, what was up with that envelope you gave Grey this morning? There wasn’t . . .”—I look around at all the people nearby then scoot closer to him and lower my voice—“drugs in there, were there?”

“Luna, you’ve known me forever. Do really think I’d deal drugs in school?”

“I really don’t want to think you’d deal drugs at all, but Beck, I’ve seen you give people stuff.”

“I never charge for stuff, though, so it’s technically not dealing. I just share with those who want to partake,” he says with a devious grin. “And to answer your question about Grey, no, there weren’t drugs in that envelope, but that’s all I can tell you.”

“How come?”

“Because it’s not my thing to tell.” Beck squints against the sunlight as he studies me. “What I really want to know is why you two are suddenly spending time together. I thought you hated him.”

“Hate’s a strong word. I don’t think I’ve ever hated him.” And, if I’m honest with myself, I still have a crush on him after all these years, even after what he did to me. “I’ve just never talked to him because of that dance thing.”

He reaches up to pat my arm. “It’s okay not to like everyone, especially when they treat you badly.”

“I know. But, at the same time, I don’t think I should not like Grey unless you know of a reason I shouldn’t like him or shouldn’t be hanging out with him.” It’s a lame attempt at getting him to confess what was in the envelope. I don’t even know why I care so much. Maybe it’s because Grey knows stuff about me. Or maybe it’s because I’m turning into a nosey person.

“Sorry, but I’m not going to tell you what was in that envelope.” He stands up, picking up his backpack from the ground. “But I will tell you that you should probably be careful around Grey. He’s an okay guy and everything, but you’re too good for him, for anyone if you ask me.”

“I’m just tutoring him,” I remind him as we start toward the school. “And you’re the one who got me into that mess.

“Yeah, I really shouldn’t talk to people when I’m high. I become this weird, all about the love kind of guy,” he says with an innocent shrug. “But I think you’ll be all right. Just don’t date him or anything, especially when he never apologized for what he did to you.”

“Trust me, this isn’t a date. We’re meeting at the library, and he has a girlfriend.”

“Oh, you can have a date at the library. I once dated this girl whose mom would only let her go to the library when she was with me because she thought we couldn’t do anything but study there. We did a lot of naughty things in the aisle where the encyclopedias are. There was this one time—”

I throw my hands over my ears. “I never, ever want to hear about your sex life, Beck. Ever.”

Beck laughs but drops the subject.

We make the rest of the walk to school chatting about the party he’s having this weekend and how I need to find a way to get there no matter what because he needs me to DJ for him.

“Beck, I’m not a DJ,” I say. “I don’t know why you keep saying that.”

“I know you’re not technically a DJ, but you’re really good at putting mixes together and running the stereo.” He winks at me. “No one else can rock it like you.”

“I’ll try to make it, but I can’t make any promises.” I’m already on thin ice as it is.

Still, I find myself feeling depressed that I probably won’t be able to go. Again, I’ll be the one missing out on all the fun. Even with the tracking app off my phone, my parents will never allow me out of the house that late at night, which leaves sneaking out as the only option.

Maybe I deserve things to be this way, though, for all the lies I’ve told lately and for all the stealing I’ve done. Maybe I deserve worse.

As we reach the entrance of the school, Beck holds the door open.

“Why thank you, sir.” I laugh as I step into the hallway.

My phone suddenly vibrates from inside my pocket, and I fish it out.

Mom: You are to come straight home after school.

Sighing, I type a reply.

Me: I was already planning on it.

Mom: I know, but sometimes you dilly-dally around with those friends of yours. You better walk through the front door within 15 minutes after school gets out and not a minute later. I know how long it takes to make the drive home. I even clocked it myself today just to make sure.

I shake my head. She really is insane.

Me: Okay, I get it. I’ll be there at 3:45.

Mom: I’m serious about this, Luna. You, me, and your father have a lot of talking to do about what I found in your floorboard this morning.

I almost drop the phone. They found my secret hiding place. Oh. My. God. I feel sick. All the things I’ve hidden in there, things I can’t explain how I got, things I’m not supposed to have, like makeup and nail polish and a pair of lacy panties that I’ve never worn, but she’s going to think I did.

“No, God. No, no, no.”

“What’s wrong?” Beckett asks from right behind me.

“I . . . um . . .” I’m too speechless to form words.

Another text buzzes through.

Mom: You’re lucky I didn’t come pick you up from school already, but I don’t want you to get behind on your schoolwork. Just know that there will be severe punishments, young lady. I’m not going to let you fall into the darkness. You won’t become that girl.

“Tell me what’s wrong.” Beck lowers his head to level our gazes. “You look like you’re about to throw up.”

“I think I am.” I fold my arm around my stomach. “I-I have to get to class.” I run down the hallway before he presses me for answers, wishing I could keep running forever without looking back.