prologue
. . .
Becky
Hickory Hills High School
Fernwood, Alabama
I’m already running late and still need to grab the books for my next class when my BFF, Georgie, leans against the locker next to mine.
“Did he ask you to senior prom yet?”
“Not yet.” I shrug. Our senior year is almost over. Somehow, I’ve kept that I’m dating Jason Richard a secret all year. Not because he wanted to keep it quiet. It’s all me. I didn’t want to deal with the mean girls, and there were so many at our high school.
“What are you going to do if he does?” Georgie asked.
She was the only one who knew how much I was into him. Jason and I were so good together whenever we’re alone. But that’s the problem. I’d sworn her to secrecy when I started dating him. Like he was a dirty secret. He wasn’t, but I couldn’t deal with the pressure of dating a boy who was dirt poor, bought his clothesfrom Goodwill, and got free lunch. It shouldn’t matter. I didn’t to me, but I was a product of Fernwood and status was everything to my parents.
I despised myself for letting them make me into this—a horrible person. Why couldn’t I stand up to them? I was almost eighteen. What could they do to me? Cut me off? So what? I’d earned my scholarship. I didn’t need their money. But being on my own, with no family, no friends. I probably wasn’t strong enough for that. It’s a conversation I’ve had with myself for months. It always ended the same way, with me hating myself but still going along with what they wanted.
“I don’t think he will. A suit, the flowers, the ticket. That’s too much money and he wouldn’t let me help him pay for it either.”
“But what if he does?”
“I’ll have to make up an excuse not to go. It’s just prom. Not like it’s a big deal.”
“What the hell, Becky? It’s only the biggest deal of our young lives. The Senior Freaking Prom! Only the most important moment of our senior year. I know you want to go.”
“That’s a bit of an exaggeration. You know that right? Graduating and getting into college is a much bigger deal.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. You know exactly what I mean. Plus, I told mom we were going shopping for dresses together this weekend. It’s the only way I could ditch her. Could you imagine the piece of crap she’d pick out? I’d probably look like something that belongs on a wedding cake.”
Oh yeah, her mom would for sure dress her up like a Southern belle, but then so would mine. Sighing, I look at Georgie, seeingthe sympathy in her expression, and my stomach churns with guilt and regret.
Jason deserves so much better than me. He should have a girlfriend who didn’t care what anyone else thought. Without parents who’d hurt him and his mother for even thinking he could date their precious daughter. Dammit.
No matter how badly I feel about it, or how much I care about the blond-haired boy with the soft smile and a voice like an angel, I can’t go to prom with him. It would be a catastrophe of epic proportions. Hell, as soon as Jason came to the house with a corsage, Mom would ground me for life.
My parents raised me to be their perfect little angel, always dressed appropriately, a cheerleader, straight A’s, and friends with all the “right” people. Everything I hated. The only saving grace was Georgie. She was my partner in crime, more like a sister than a bestie. But her parents were the same, and we were both held to higher standards, at least until we got the hell out of this town.
We’d been plotting our college escape for years. Except a few months ago, her parents told her she was going to Community College and marrying Peter Brooks, the son of her father’s business partner.
“We’ll still go shopping. I’ll buy a ticket and go without a date.”
“Your mother will be horrified. She’s worse than mine. But then again, they’re making me go with Peter.” Georgie rolled her eyes.
I giggled. “Poor you. At least he’s not a troll. I’m still waiting for my mom to tell me she set something up. I’ve been avoiding her for days, and when no one comes to pick me up, it will be too late.”
“Peter and I will pick you up. She won’t throw a fit in front of him.” Georgie said with a nod.
“Perfect. We have a plan. But I need to go, if I’m late again Mr. Sherman will give me detention for sure.”
“Run, Becks. See you at lunch.”
I slam my locker shut and run down the hall to class. The final bell rings, and Mr. Sherman starts to pull the door shut as I slide by him into the classroom. Thankfully, he only raises an eyebrow at me. I drop into my seat with a sigh of relief and catch the smirk of Michael Mitchell. He sits next to me. I’m just so lucky—not. The self-proclaimed school god, he’s the quarterback of the football team, the class president, son of the mayor, and a total asshole. I ignore him whenever I can.
Class drags. History is not my favorite topic, and Mr. Sherman’s droning on almost puts me to sleep. When the torture is finally over, my plan is to stop at my locker, drop my books off, and then meet Georgie at the cafeteria.
