“He sure is,” Maria agrees, and a few seconds later, she’s back on the phone.
“Sorry, sweetie. She’s just having one of those days.”
I hate seeing Juliet like this. When I was growing up, she was the sole reason why Lilly and I even survived our childhood. I’m sure of it. And even when Lilly was taken into the state’s custody and put into foster care, Juliet did try to foster her, but it never worked out.
“That’s okay. I’ll try again in a few days, if it’s alright.”
“Sounds good. Talk soon.”
Once the call ends, I toss my phone onto my nightstand. Juliet has always been the one person I could count on to never leave me. And yet, it feels like she’s already gone.
I always hoped that I could make it pro and put her in the fanciest, nicest establishment in the country. But now, it just seems like that will never happen because she’s failing so quickly.
Rolling to my side, I let my mind wander to brighter things. Like Isla Hardy and how set she is on hating me.
TEN
ISLA
“Girl,I can’t believe this is your first spray-tan experience,” Haven says to me, taking a sip of whatever she has in her huge-ass 7-Eleven cup. “It’s life-changing. I’m not even kidding.”
“If I look like an Oompa-Loompa, I’m going to kill you.” I cringe, still unsure about this whole … spray-tan ordeal. I’m blonde, and my skin is pretty pale. I love to be tan, but my aunt Tate instilled it in me as a child to wear sunscreen because her mom had been a victim of skin cancer. So, now, I’m the girl at the beach, applying SPF 100, while my friends slather themselves in tanning oil.
“You are ballsy to try your first one the day before our athletic pictures get taken. Those photos go up all over the school and on the website,” Harley says, keeping a lollipop in her cheek. “Then again, I’m only getting one to prep for homecoming tomorrow night.”
When Haven looks back and finds my eyes are wide and I’m chewing on my lip, she stops walking and throws her arm around my shoulders. “Oh, calm down. You’ll be fine.”
She runs her hand down my untamed, half-falling-out braid. “What are you doing with your hair for homecoming anyway? Because girl … I have ideas.” She looks at my blonde hair. “I’d kill for this hair. You’re, like … a sexy wild animal.”
“Uh … thanks,” I say, scrunching my nose up. “I think?”
“Oh, it’s a compliment, babe.” Harley steps to the other side of me, ruffling my hair.
I fight back the urge to tell her that I have curly hair. Ruffling means frizz. I don’t know her well enough yet to give her shit, but from what I do know, she’s nice. I’ve made some friends on the hockey team, too, but these softball girls? They’re cool.
We all separate when we reach the salon door, and Haven uses her free hand to pull it open.
“All right, come on, loser. Time to get tan.”
She winks, and reluctantly … I walk inside.
Already regretting my first spray tan before it’s even happened.
I drive home alonebecause Haven and Harley had to go to a team meeting right after their spray tans. Me? I’m going home and rinsing this off the second it’s been three hours to keep it from further developing. I told the girl I wanted it to be very subtle, and she must have seen the panic on my face after she sprayed me and I looked in the mirror because she promised me that it was only the bronzing agent in it that was making it appear so dark. And as I look in the mirror right now, eyes widening … I sure hope she’s right.
Screw three hours. I’m rinsing in two.
It begins to downpour, and I flick my wipers to max speed as I turn onto Eagle Way, the street that houses most of the athletic students here on campus, along with a few fraternities.
I’m just about to pass The Tower when my car begins to lose power. I look at the gas gauge and instantly want to cry, only … I can’t because then my tears will leave streaks down my face because of the stupid spray tan I just got.
“No …” I whine, hitting my steering wheel. “No. No. No!”
It’s too late, and I coast my car—which is completely out of gas—along the sidewalk. Of course, directly in front of the freaking Tower.
I just have to hope that all the dudes living inside are at practice. But the chance of that is slim, seeing as different teams rarely practice at the exact same time.
If I’m lucky, Hendrix Hunt isn’t home. Yeah, that would be the best-case scenario.
