Chapter 2

Seven Days Pre-Culling…

As soon as the bell rings, I rush out of the room. I’ll be so glad when this year is over, and I no longer have to go to AP English. When I reach my locker, I double check to make sure my journal is safe in my bag, and I didn’t accidently leave it in class. I’d die if anyone read what’s between those pages. I should probably just leave it at home, where I know it will be safe, but not having it within reach makes me jittery. Plus, I don’t trust Mommy Dearest not to snoop.

“I swear to God, if Mr. Handley gives me another C, I’m going to slash his tires.” Whitney groans.

I slam my locker closed and turn to face her. “I take it you didn’t do well on your test.”

“Look at this!” Her blue eyes are as wild as her blonde curls.

She waves a paper in my face, and I snatch it. There’s more red ink than anything else. Whitney is gorgeous and popular and fun, but she’s not all that smart. I hate to even think that because she’s my best friend, but it’s true. Even she knows it, and she owns that as proudly as she does her name.

“I told you I’d help you study.” I hand the paper back and loop my arm through hers. “And seriously, screw Mr. Handley. He’s old as dirt.”

“Eww.” Whitney scrunches up her face. “The thought of anyone screwing Mr. Handley is enough to give me nightmares.”

I laugh, and we make our way to the cafeteria. We skip the food line and go straight to our table. Mya and Liz are waiting for us. I take a seat across from them, and Whitney sits to my right. Whitney pulls a bottle of pop from her large purse and hands it to me. Then she pulls out a second one for herself. I twist off the top and take a sip.

“This week is never going to end,” Mya complains as she flips her shiny black hair over her shoulder.

“We legit have like one day left,” I say. “You’ll survive.”

Liz rolls her big, brown doe eyes. “Everleigh Optimistic,” she says in a mocking tone.

I turn my attention away. That’s her very un-clever nickname for me. I tend to complain a lot less than the rest of them, so they tease me about being too optimistic. The name drives me crazy. Really, what’s so wrong about being positive?

“Oh!” Mya says, digging through her oversize purse. She pulls out her cell phone. “We’ve been invited to several grad parties. We should start making plans for this weekend, map out a party route.” She taps on the phone screen, and then my, Whitney’s, and Liz’s phones simultaneously chirp. “I just tagged all of you on Insta.”

I remove my phone from my back pocket and check my notifications. Mya tagged me in no less than twelve photos. I begin to scroll through the pictures, barely paying attention to who is having a party—I’ll just go wherever the rest of them want to.

“Ew. Chad Murphy.” Whitney wrinkles her nose. “Don’t think so, loser.”

“What’s wrong with Chad?” Liz asks.

“Really, Liz?” Whitney sighs. “Remember Chelsea Grayson’s party? He spent all night hooking up with you, and then the very next weekend, he was getting busy with Trish Fuller. The weekend after that… Deidra Marks. He’s a player. And not a very good one. Chad’s so not worth our time.”

Liz shrugs. “Whatever.” She returns her attention to her phone, then looks back up. “How about Marc McCain? He’s cool.”

“Oh, yeah, we’re totally there.” Mya grins.

“Hey, babe.” Reid comes up behind me and plants a sloppy kiss on my cheek.

I twist around in my seat and smile at him. “Hey.”

He flops his backpack on the table, knocking over my bottle of Pepsi. Thankfully, the top was on.

“Reid!” Mya shrieks. “God, you’re such a guy.”

Reid laughs, sits beside me, drapes his arm around my shoulders, and pulls me toward him. Then he’s kissing me in his typical, overzealous fashion. His tongue nearly chokes me, and when I pull away, I have to gasp for breath. Dating Reid skyrocketed my popularity more than becoming friends with Whitney, but he’s not a very good kisser. He nuzzles his nose against my neck, and I giggle, but he doesn’t stop.

“Aw.” Liz drops her chin into her hand and lets out a dreamy sigh. “You two are so cute together.”

“I know, right?” Mya nods. “You two are totally going to get married someday. You’ll be able to tell your kids how you were high school sweethearts.”

Reid chuckles, and I shift uncomfortably. My parents had been high school sweethearts, too, and that hasn’t worked out so well for them.

“Wanna hang out tonight?” he whispers.

“Get a room!” Spencer’s voice startles me, and I jerk away from Reid.

“Get a graveyard!” Mya shouts back, and we erupt into fits of laughter.

I cup my hand over my mouth and look over my shoulder at Spencer, who’s staring at me. There’s something in his gaze that makes my laughter die in my throat. And I can’t seem to look away. His T-shirt stretches across his chest, showing muscles I didn’t know he had, and he looks taller, too. Everything about him lately is different, like he’s just emerged from one of those massive, TV makeover shows or something. I can’t quite put my finger on it, but he’s not the same Spencer I’ve always known.

“Cross yourself, girls,” Whitney announces, making the sign of the cross. Liz and Mya follow her lead, but I’m still caught in his gaze. “Amen,” she says once they’re done.

Making the sign of the cross is this stupid thing we do to make fun of Spencer. At the beginning of our sophomore year, he wore a ridiculous Halloween costume to school for no apparent reason. Liz quickly nicknamed him Spooky Spence. After that, Mya made it her mission to tease him about it. But that got old and boring, so she started telling people Spencer liked to hang out in graveyards and touch himself. So, now, whenever he crosses our paths, we feel the need to protect ourselves from him by actually crossing ourselves.

Reid’s nuzzling my neck again, and I tear my gaze from Spencer. “So?” he mutters. “Are we on for tonight?”

Hanging out usually means making out. We rarely do anything together unless it’s physical. Or going to a party. I don’t feel like doing either tonight. Then again, I don’t really want to go home. “I don’t know. What’re the plans tonight, girls?”

“Shopping,” Whitney says. “In fact, I’m skipping the rest of the day. Who’s with me?”

That’s not really a question. When one of us says we’re going to do something, the rest of us go along. That’s just how things work. We’re friends, and friends always stick together.

“Don’t you have another final today?” I ask before I can filter my thoughts.

She waves me off. “We already took the final. We’re doing some stupid activity today.”

“Oh, okay then.” Luckily, my afternoon class is an art elective, and I don’t have to go because I already turned in my final assignment. I turn to Reid. “Maybe tomorrow night?”

“Don’t worry, Everleigh. We’ll have you back in time to see lover boy.” Whitney laughs, and I swat her.

My friends think I’ve gone all the way with Reid. But I haven’t. I just haven’t bothered to correct their assumptions because I don’t want them to make fun of me. And I really don’t want them to pressure me to hand over my V-card to Reid, especially if he has sex like he kisses. I involuntarily shudder.

“Reid!” Alex Thompson shouts from clear across the cafeteria. “You comin’ or what?”

“Gotta go. I’ll text you later.” Reid kisses my cheek, then dashes off with Alex.

I have no idea what they’re doing, and I don’t really care. Just like he doesn’t care what I do with my friends. The bell rings, and we take our time leaving. Knowing we’re not going to class, we’re in no big rush.

“Get your stuff and meet me at my car,” Whitney calls.

I go to my locker to grab my backpack and journal. When I turn to head out to the student parking lot, I pass Spencer in the hall. I don’t give him anything more than a cursory glance, until he stops and clutches his chest. His eyes go wide, and he backs up against the wall of lockers.

Against my better judgment, I stop. “What’s your problem?”

“You didn’t cross yourself. You going to live?” His lips curve up into a smile that’s almost breathtaking. “Oh, wait.” He snaps his fingers. “You only do that when the Terrible Trio is around. Where are your fellow heathens anyway?”

I glare at him. That’s what he calls my friends—The Terrible Trio. Can’t really blame him considering how they tease him, and I guess I’m guilty by association. He’s never lumped me in with them like that before, though.

“Real clever, Spencer.” I roll my eyes and walk away.

“Ev, wait,” he calls.

I freeze. The hairs on my arms stand on edge, and my ears ring. “Don’t call me that,” I say.

That’s his childhood nickname for me, and he hasn’t used it in years. I don’t know why he’s using it now, but hearing it stirs emotions in my chest that I would much rather ignore. Slowly, I turn to face him. His head’s down, and his expression borders on apologetic.

“Will you be at the guest house tonight?” He rubs the back of his neck, then looks up at me. “Can I meet you there? There’s something I need to ask you.”

I cross my arms. “I have plans tonight. Just ask me now.”

He narrows his eyes, and the muscle in his jaw clenches. “Never mind.” He walks away, and I stare after him, stunned.

What the heck was that all about? Seriously, why was I ever friends with him? I shake my head and hurry outside to meet my friends.

Whitney’s car is a cherry red convertible with a stereo that costs just as much as the car itself. Her mom’s been married five times, and each divorce leaves her with a huge settlement. Whitney’s dad pays crazy high child support, too, and so she literally gets whatever she wants, which is a sore subject with Mya, who also gets whatever she wants. Mya and Whitney are constantly trying to buy more or spend more money than the other. For someone like me who doesn’t have access to hundreds or thousands of extra dollars each month to spend on clothes, I find their spending habits to be ridiculous.

I approach her car and glance around. I thought for sure they’d be waiting for me considering I got caught up with Spencer. Why does he want to meet me at the guest house? That is my safe place, my sanctuary. And now he wants to invade that part of my life? Why?

Moments later, Mya, Whitney, and Liz approach, laughing, faces red. “What did I miss?” I ask immediately.

“Pukey Paige was walking down the hall with toilet paper hanging out of her pants,” Mya says. “And it had…” She erupts into uncontrollable giggles.

“It had a poop stain on it,” Whitney finishes.

My eyes widen. “No way.”

Whitney nods.

Paige Randall became Pukey Paige during sophomore year when she threw up in health class after watching a video about STDs. So gross.

Mya doubles over and laughs so hard I’m afraid she’ll stop breathing. But her laughter is contagious, and soon, we’re all out of control.

“Hey!” the groundskeeper shouts at us. None of us have passes to leave, and if he catches us again, we’ll get a week of in-house suspension at the start of our senior year. No thank you.

“Oh, crap. Get in the car,” Whitney says, and we all scramble to get in.

She drops the car into reverse and peels out of the parking lot like a racecar driver, which she’s so not. In fact, she totaled her last car because she was driving too fast and hit a log that had fallen during a pretty nasty storm, and it was literally just lying there in the middle of the road, so really, Whitney should’ve been able to stop. But she was speeding. Like always.

Because Whitney is my best friend, I always get shotgun, which also means I get control of the radio. Mya hates that! I crank up the volume when my favorite band—Three Days Grace—comes on, and she pats my shoulder. We sing at the top of our lungs, all of us off tune, but that doesn’t stop us.

“What’re we shopping for anyway?” Liz shouts to be heard over the music.

Whitney turns down the volume. “I need some new clothes for all these grad parties.”

“We need to swing by the pharmacy so I can get more condoms,” Liz says from the backseat where she’s filing her nails.

I whip around to look at her. “Seriously, Liz? Condoms?”

She shrugs. “A girl can’t be too careful.”

“You’re on the pill. Make the guy buy the condoms,” Mya says.

I laugh and turn back around in my seat. The way they talk about sex like it’s no big deal… I can’t wrap my mind around it. Of course, right now, the only thing on my mind is Spencer and what he could possibly have to ask me. Maybe I will make a detour to the guest house later tonight.