“In the class?”
“Yup.” She popped the P. “Wanna follow me? Seal your fate as a social outcast?”
“I thought I already did that when I called Miranda a pick me bitch.”
She grinned, “Yeah, you totally did. That made my day. But hanging out with me is like the nail in the coffin.”
“Why?”
“I moved here a couple years ago. I’m not pretty enough to be a cheerleader, not smart enough to be in any academic club. My hand-eye coordination is shit, so sports is out of the question. And Miranda has made it her life’s mission to torment me.”
“Hmm, a California loner and the school’s head outcast. Seems like a perfect match.” My attempt at humor was lousy, but at least I was trying.
Maria laughed and headed up the stairs, “By the way, I’m sorry I never texted you.”
“It’s ok.”
“It’s not. It was kinda rude. But, well, you know.”
“What I saw in the bathroom.”
“What youthinkyou saw.” I cast a skeptical side eye at her and she scoffed, “Listen, let’s just agree to never talk about it. And we can brave Hurricane Miranda together. Bet you’re more used to those than I am.”
“What, to hurricanes? Yeah, I’ve been through a few.” Figuratively and literally. “Fine, friends with secrets. Like friends with benefits but more fun and less complicated.”
Maria laughed again, “Yeah sure, blondie. Whatever you say.”
? Jackson ?
I sat on the crumbling brick wall that lined the parking lot, the late summer sun warming the brick as I watched the teal Mustang pull in like it owned the place. It was old school—sleek, loud, and unapologetically pretty. I had never seen that car before. Not in town, definitely not at school. It stopped, the engine purring, before continuing across the blacktop and turning for the student lot. Dalton was going on about something his mom had caught him doing, and Diego was calling him a dumbass. Neither of them was aware that something else had caught my attention.
When she stepped out like she was exiting a movie scene, I stood up and swore. Blonde hair, long tan legs, shorts that skirted the dress code by about a millimeter. A green top hung off her shoulder and she straightened as she looked around the place. She didn’t look nervous. She didn’t look lost. She looked like she’d beenwaitingfor this entrance. I saw her pause when she noticed our bikes but she shook her head and continued inside. I watched her go, watched every head turn as she made her way up the steps.
“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” I muttered.
Dalton followed my gaze and gave a low whistle. “That the new girl? I was right! Romeo and Juliet here we come!”
“You mean Malibu Barbie,” I said, not bothering to hide the disdain.
“Pretty sure she’s more Cheerleader Assassin than Barbie,” Diego chimed in, squinting toward the car. “Remember what she called you?”
“I remember. That tongue could cut glass,” Dalton replied.
I glared at them. “What does that have to do with her showing up here of all places?” They both shrugged.
“Well, ya know…even if she hates you, maybe she would give your best bud a chance,” Dalton smirked. “I would be happy to give her a personal tour.”
I rolled my eyes. “Jesus, Dalton. Grow up. You’ve got fucking issues.”
“Hey, I’m just saying. Some of us have magnetic personalities.”
“You’re a walking code of conduct violation,” Rodney muttered from where he leaned against the school’s brick wall, arms folded across his chest. He also played on the football team with us and kind of just lurked around. Dalton grinned like it was a compliment.
“Bet Coach puts you on the bench if he hears that shit,” Diego said.
“I’m not worried. He loves me.”
“You’ve been benched three times for skipping weights,” I pointed out.
