“Oh, that’s the term we’re using?”
“And I know it was hard leaving your friends behind, but I’m sure you’ll make new ones in no time.”
“Hopefully ones wearing pants,” I muttered.
“Mommy, can I have a snack?” Skye called from the back seat. My three-year-old sister sounded sweet and innocent, but she was always one wrong answer away from unleashing her inner demon. With dark curly hair and big brown eyes, she and Daisy, who was sat in the car seat next to her, lookedjust like Tessa.
Their features couldn’t have been more different to my brother and me, who took after our mom with blond hair and green eyes. At least, according to the pictures I’d seen of her. I was only a baby when she died, so those photos were all the memories I had. My dad rarely talked about her. Even now, I think it hurt him too much. But he’d once told me I had her smile, and her determination.
“When we get home, Skye,” Tessa replied.
“But I want one now.”
“You better get her a snack, Mom…” Daisy warned. My other sister was only four years old, but she’d always been a bit of an old soul, and the concern in her voice right now made her sound far wiser than her years. She knew just as well as me what would happen if Skye didn’t get what she wanted.
“When we get home,” Tessa repeated.
That was my cue to leave. Nothing inside Ransom High could be worse than the tantrums of a three-year-old who wanted a snack.
“I better get going.” I jumped from the car before I missed my opportunity to escape. “Bye, you guys.”
“Don’t forget your father’s driving you home tonight,” Tessa said.
“Okay.”
“Good luck. Love y—” The sound of her response was swallowed by Skye’s pterodactyl screams.
Perhaps Tessa needed the luck more than I did. I gave her a sympathetic smile before I shut the door and waved as she pulled away from the curb.
When she was gone, I turned to face my new school. Between the warnings I’d heard about Ransom, the flasher whose butt was still poking out a second-floor window and the fact this place had produced Parker Darling, I had serious concerns.
My hand was still sore after my encounter with Parker last night, and I bristled as I thought of him. While a twinge of guilt for punching him remained, I had a plan to get over it: avoid him like the plague.
I drew in a deep breath, but just as I went to step forward a truck came screaming down the road behind me. I heard the splash of tires slashing through a puddle, and a split second later freezing gutter water hit me like a tidal wave. It sprayed across my back, soaking my top, jeans and sneakers. I didn’t have a chance to even try to jump out of the way. One moment I was dry. The next, I stood there dripping, cold and fuming.
I spun to search for the driver. They were already pulling into a parking space. Of course they drove an oversized truck. Probably compensating for something. The driver’s door opened and as they jumped from the vehicle my blood started to boil. Parker.
He smoothed a hand through his hair as he placed a Devils cap backward on his head, like he was gearing up for another day of making bad choices. My hands clenched into fists at my sides. Was this his revenge? Drenching a girl on her first day at a new school was low, even for someone like Parker. I wondered if it was too soon to punch him again.
He started walking toward me, and my anger slightly diminished when I caught sight of the damage I’d inflictedlast night. A bright bruise had formed under his eye and there seemed to be a small cut on his nose. I was surprised by how bad it was—and also by how attractive he still looked.
A cool wind made me shudder and I looked down at my soaked clothes. I didn’t want to give Parker the satisfaction of knowing he’d upset me. I started peeling off my wet sweater only to find my top underneath was drenched too. I was going to need a whole new outfit.
When I looked back up, I saw Parker had stopped near me. A frown creased his brow as he glanced between the puddle and me. For a moment, the dash of uncertainty in his expression made me wonder if he had only just realized what he’d done. But then his eyes started to dance with joy and his lips lifted in that annoying smirk of his.
“I’m not sure what your old school was like, but you should know, wet T-shirt contests are frowned upon here.”
Screw being the bigger person. I wanted to kill him.
“You did this on purpose,” I seethed.
“Hardly. I didn’t see you there.”
“I was standing right by the road.”
“And I was focused on driving.”
“You really expect me to believe this was an accident?”
