"Puh-lease." Anne proceeded to explain the difference between being nice and being a total player as we all headed for the trash cans then the rear exit. I followed but tuned them out, tired of hearing about Tristan Coleman's infamous reputation with the girls. But my traitorous gaze still slipped over to the Clann kids' table long enough to see that the prince of Jacksonville needed another haircut. Tristan's golden curls had grown long enough to brush the collar of his polo shirt again.
Later that afternoon before fourth period, the foot traffic streamed around me like a human river flowing through the main hallway. I sighed, tired and achy and cranky, trying to ignore the claustrophobic feeling from the swarm of people all around me while I squatted in front of my bottom-row locker. I still hadn't gotten used to how many students were packed into this campus every day. The junior high had only three grades and much bigger hallways, so when someone had bumped into me there last year, it had been a personal message. Here, students nudged against me every couple seconds as I struggled to find a pencil inside the chaos of my locker for my last class. Stupid algebra. It was my toughest subject, and the only class that required a pencil.
It was also the only one I had with any Clann members. And with the worst one of them all, too.
Thank goodness at least Anne was in the same class. She was a genius at anything to do with numbers.
She wasn't great at waiting for me, though.
"Hey, slowpoke, you're gonna be late. As usual." Anne leaned against the lockers next to mine and gave me a friendly punch on the shoulder, hard enough to make me wobble. I righted myself and winced, guessing I'd probably have a bruise on my shoulder for a day or two.
"And what does a female jock care about being late to class?" I teased while I wearily continued to dig through books and supplies. Where the heck had that pack of pencils gone? If I had to borrow a pencil from Anne, I'd never hear the end of it. She'd use loaning me a pencil as an excuse to launch yet another tirade about how I needed to get organized.
She snorted and squatted down beside me. "Obvious answer. If volleyball doesn't pan out for a scholarship, the grades will have to do it for me instead. Harvard costs a butt load, or haven't you heard?"
"I still don't understand why you need to go to Harvard just to become a CPA. Can't you go to any college to do that?"
"And I still don't understand why you can't keep a locker clean." She reached forward as if to start tidying up the pile. I swatted her hand away with a smile.
Suddenly someone rammed into my back. I threw one hand against the lockers and the other hand to the floor to catch myself as my backpack slid off my shoulder and thudded on the floor at my feet. My entire body vibrated from the impact, as if my bones were hollow and echoing from the hit like metal pipes. Then everything came cascading out of my locker in a mini avalanche, hitting my shoulder on the way down. That was definitely going to leave a bruise.
I glanced up in time to see Dylan Williams, another member of the Clann and one of my most loyal tormentors, saunter away with his usual braying laugh. Sometimes I had nightmares about that laugh of his. I shuddered.
"Oh, he did not just do that! I am so gonna kick his-" Anne jumped up, grabbed her chestnut ponytail in two thick handfuls and yanked the halves in opposite directions to tighten her rubber band. The same way she always tightened her ponytail before smacking one of her lethal power serves during a volleyball game. Was she about to smack Dylan a power serve to the head?
While the image was tempting, I didn't want to know what the consequences would be if she actually did it. I grabbed her ankle and tugged just enough to direct her attention back to me.
"Anne, don't, he isn't worth it. Some people never change.
Dylan's been knocking books out of my arms and popping my bra for years." I started grabbing things off the floor and stuffing them into my locker.
Grumbling, she bent down to help me. "Why don't you pop him one?"
"Don't worry, if he gets too bad, I'll handle it." Somehow. And definitely on a day when I didn't feel so bad. "He's just another spoiled brat from the Clann. Why give him the satisfaction of a reaction?" At least, that's what my mother and grandmother kept telling me. So far, their theory that I should ignore the Clann bullies hadn't been much of a success.
Anne frowned, but at least she didn't go after the jerk. As we fit the small mountain of papers and books back inside the too-small locker, a bright bit of yellow in the pile caught my eye. I reached beneath the jungle of stuff and snatched out a pack of pencils. "Yes, found them!"
"Finally. I am so cleaning that locker if you don't."
"Ha! Be my guest." Everything now in its disorganized place, I stood up and shoved the locker door shut, having to use both hands to get it closed enough for the latch to click. "Just don't blame me if something in there bites you."
At Anne's furtive glance toward the locker door, I couldn't help but laugh. She wouldn't hesitate to start a fight with a member of the Clann, but my messy locker scared her?
The laugh died as quickly as it had begun as a strange yet familiar ache welled up in my stomach and chest. I nearly moaned out loud. Not again.
Even knowing the cause for the weird ache couldn't stop me from turning and looking down the hall. My gaze immediately collided and locked with the sensation's green-eyed source towering over most of the other students.
Tristan
Even in the middle of a noisy mass of students, one girl's laugh grabbed my attention.
I couldn't figure out how she did it. The hallway was loud, with at least a hundred students all talking and yelling in a space only a few yards wide and thirty times as long. But every time Savannah Colbert laughed, the husky sound somehow managed to reach out and twist up everything inside me.
Part of me wished I never had to see or hear her again. Life would be a lot easier if I didn't. The way I felt about Savannah was all mixed-up. Once, she'd been my best friend. And the first girl I'd ever kissed.
Then I'd made the mistake of telling my older sister, Emily, about pretending to marry Savannah during recess in the fourth grade. Emily had blabbed to our parents. Mom had blown a gasket and called the school to get me yanked out of Savannah's class. Dad had turned purple in the face and gone all silent and scowling. And I'd known I was in big trouble.