“Yeah, that seems right. Come on, get in.” He smacks the side of his truck to rile me more.
I stand and kick my legs over the edge of the bed to jump to the ground, then slide into the much more ergonomic passenger seat and recline back as far as it will go.
“Are you going to sleep on the way to school?” Lucas asks, cranking his engine to a roar.
“No, I’m going to sleep on our way to the gas station where I plan on getting a forty-four ounce Dew.” I look at him, one eye shut.
“We’re gonna be late,” Lucas argues.
I shrug and silently dare him to come up with a better excuse. He can’t, so I tip the brim of my hat lower to shadow my eyes while he drives the four miles to the gas station near our school. We both run in and grab donuts, and I fulfill my Dew destiny, chugging a quarter of it from the exit to the passenger door.
“Better,” I breathe out.
Lucas chuckles and backs us out of the lot, taking us the rest of the way to school.
As much as I need the caffeine jolt, I have an ulterior motive for being late to school this morning—I want to avoid running into Hayden. I’ve gotten tired of conflict. Lately, it feels that’s all my life is, a connect-the-dot puzzle from fight to skirmish.
Seems Hayden has his own reasons to walk into class late, though. He knows I won’t skip completely; I take my sports eligibility seriously during basketball season. Lucas backs his truck in so my side is butted up next to my brother in the driver’s seat of our car. Abby is sitting next to him, and she’s doing that thing where she only looks my direction but not actually at me.
This day is going to be epically bad.
“You want me to just lock you in? You can sleep on the jump seats in the back,” Lucas kids.
While he thinks he’s being funny, I take a second to actually consider the idea, looking over my shoulder and assessing the room. It’s a tight fit, but as tired as I am, I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t even notice. I glance back to my friend, who’s looking at me sideways.
“That was a joke,” he explains.
I know.
I grimace and pop the lock on my seat belt, leaning forward and resting my arms and head on his dash to stretch out my lower back. I managed to slip into our house to get a shower and a change of clothes, but sleeping in a truck bed didn’t do much for my wardrobe. My long-sleeved shirt is wrinkled, and there’s a line of dirt on the side of my jeans from the back of Lucas’s truck.
“Go on in. I’m gonna get this over with,” I say, wiping my palm down the side of my face and over my mouth. I open my door and make a slow trip toward the passenger side of the car, opening the door for Abby.
“Can you give us a minute,” I say, pinching the bridge of my nose and doing my best to not crowd her.
“Sure,” she says in a whisper.
I look her direction just enough to catch her give Hayden a look and ask if he’ll be okay. What does she think? That I’m a monster? I wonder what version of events he told her.
She turns her body to the side and her bare legs cut in front of mine. She’s wearing a long, tight skirt and a blazer, as if she’s ready for a job interview. I open the door wider to give her space and she stands, straightening her skirt and jacket. Her hair is pinned up in loose curls, and she smells like candy. I saw her car, so I know she drove herself here. She’s just been waiting for me with Hayden, keeping him company, making sure he gets all the attention he can because, apparently, I’m some attention whore who has ruined his life.
I’m determined to pay no attention to Abby but she makes it impossible when she clears her throat and shuffles in her heels to face me, adjusting the collar of the shirt she’s wearing. She stares into my eyes with a terrified gaze and swallows.
“How do I look?”
My cold stare breaks down and my eyes narrow with inexplicable guilt. She looks beautiful. Her permanently golden brown skin is flawless, her