felt like. She’d never worked for anything in her life. She married a rich Englishman, popped out a kid and coasted.
All she did was convince people to fork over money for her fundraisers and charity auctions. She was good at signing checks and putting her name on things, but she didn’t know what it meant to earn something, to put years of blood, sweat and tears into something only to be told it was over before it ever really began. This was supposed to be the culmination of all my hard work—the payoff. And I’d been cheated out of it.
“I’m a senior, Mum. I don’t get another chance at this. I’m allowed to be pissed that it’s all meant nothing.”
“Fine, Wyatt, be upset but do it in class. Your education is more important than sports. The next time I hear you were caught skipping there will be consequences.”
I rolled my eyes. “What are you going to do, call Dad?”
“I just might.”
I almost laughed. The idea of my mother calling my father about anything that involved me was even funnier than thinking she could ever understand what baseball meant to me. I was about to tell her that when the door to her office burst open, a hysterical brunette breezing in.
“Mrs. Nash, I’m so sorry to do this to you but I have to withdraw from the dramatic arts competition; Lola has mono, she’s out for four weeks, maybe more and I-I can’t do it without her, I just can’t.”
“Layne, sweetie, take a breath,” my mother said offering the girl a tissue and more sympathy than I ever got. “What do you mean you’re withdrawing?”
“Lola has mono, she can’t sing.”
I watched my mother’s face carefully. It morphed from concerned to calculating. This poor girl had no idea who she was dealing with. Maybe the old Special Resource Director was a pushover, but no one told Mrs. Cynthia Nash no. The woman had a solution for every problem—except me, apparently.
“Layne, just because Lola has to drop out of the competition doesn’t mean you have to.”
“But—”
“With Lola out of the competition you’re the only student representing Northwood High. I don’t need to tell you how important this competition is for the school. My charity is contributing a large portion of the scholarship funds.”
I rolled my eyes. Of course. Mummy dearest doesn’t want to look bad. It was the usual reason she pretended to care about the things that went on here.
“Besides dear,” she continued, “You already listed the competition on your college applications. If you back out now it could hurt your chances of getting into a good university. Plus, to be frank you could really use the scholarship funds.”
“I-I know and I hate to let you down b-but I’m not a singer. I only write the songs. Lola does the singing. That’s why we entered the competition together.”
“Well, it seems we just need to find you a new singing partner.”
I cleared my throat. “I think that’s my cue to leave.”
Chapter Three
Layne
I startled at the sound of another voice in the room. When I realized it belonged to none other than Wyatt Nash, I wished I actually was invisible.
Ever since Wyatt transferred to Northwood last year with his James Dean good looks, posh British accent and too-cool-for-school attitude, he became every girl’s desire.
Well, every girl but me.
Wyatt Nash was pretty much the bane of my existence and he didn’t even know it.
Last year he ruined Lola’s prom, which subsequently ruined my prom too because Lola was too devastated to go. But missing prom wasn’t even what I was so mad about. It was the fact that I’d actually been asked by a boy. Tommy Barnes, the cutest boy in the brass section! It would’ve been my first date. But when I had to cancel last minute thanks to Lola’s meltdown, he told everyone in pep band I was a prude, which only helped my loser reputation flourish.
I glared at Wyatt, wondering what all the fuss was about. Sure, he was good-looking with his dark, just-rolled-out-of-bed hair, thick lashes, and sultry accent, but did he really deserve all the hype?
His nickname was Nashanova and I was convinced all the girls in our year would sell a non-vital organ for a date with him, but I just didn’t see it.
Maybe it was because bad boys weren’t my type. Not that I had a type. Lola loved to tease me about the fact that I’d never had a boyfriend. To which I always responded, ‘how can