Trouble from the Start (6 page)

I didn't know if Fletcher got the notice that we ate breakfast at our house, but he wasn't there when I came downstairs and grabbed a yogurt. As a matter of fact, he wasn't anywhere around and his bike was gone. I couldn't imagine that he'd headed to school early. I told myself it wasn't my business. Maybe he just had stuff to do.

I arrived at school and pulled Trooper—the name I'd given my ancient car because it sounded like it was going to die at any moment but just kept plugging along—into a vacant slot near the back of the parking lot. I grabbed my backpack and walked along the cement path that led to the courtyard where a couple of fountains bubbled.

I didn't spot Kendall on her usual bench, getting in some last-minute kisses with Jeremy—because it was
so
awful not to be with him for three hours before lunch. So I
strolled on by. She was probably at her locker. That wasn't too far from mine, and we usually met there to catch up before heading to our first class together. I wanted to tell her that I didn't think Fletcher was as bad as we'd heard. As a matter of fact, I kind of liked him.

Scooter stopped in front of me, blocking my path. “Hey, Avery.”

His tone was inviting, friendly. It made me smile. I didn't think he even knew who I was. I'd been at his party but that was because of Jeremy. “Hey, Scooter. Great party Saturday night.”

His blue eyes twinkled. “Yeah, I heard you had a good time.”

He was talking to someone else about me? He was one of the most popular guys in our class. I had to admit I was flattered. “Loads of fun.”

He grinned broadly, his teeth such a bright white that I almost had to put on my sunglasses. “We should hang out sometime.”

My jaw almost dropped. He sounded like he really meant it, that he wanted to spend some time with me. “That'd be fun.”

He winked. “I'll be in touch.” He walked off, those long legs that made him a star on the football field quickly putting distance between us.

I stood there, trying to process what had just happened.
From the moment I'd entered high school, I'd hoped to get some attention from guys. Now, right at the end, a guy was finally showing some interest.

My step was a little lighter as I headed to the building that housed my locker. Wait until I told Kendall about this. She wouldn't believe it.

I was nearly to the door when a guy I didn't know stopped walking and gave me a once-over like he was measuring me for a new outfit. Although he was cute, he made me feel a little uncomfortable. I reached for the door.

“I'll get that,” he said. Leaning in, he brushed his shoulder against mine as he pulled open the door. “Avery, right?”

I blinked in surprise. “Right.”

“I'm Josh.” He grinned. “See you around.”

The door closed with us on opposite sides of it before I could ask, “Around what?” That encounter was a little odd. Although I
was
wearing a new blue top that Kendall had assured me was very flattering. . . .

I'd taken four steps inside when Rhys Adams winked at me, like we shared a secret that no one else knew. Our star quarterback doesn't normally wink at me. Maybe he just got something in his eye. Because three guys giving me attention was beyond weird.

Jade—whom he usually winked at—narrowed her eyes at me, or so it seemed. No doubt her contacts were
giving her trouble. Or maybe she was still upset from our little encounter at the party. It was hard to tell with her. She seemed perpetually put out with something or someone.

I'd almost reached my locker when Kendall practically barreled into me. “I told you that your reputation would be ruined.”

“What are you talking about?”

She grabbed my arm and began propelling me toward the restrooms. “You are not going to believe this.”

“What? New toilets in the stalls?”

“Not funny, Avery. So not funny.” She shoved open a door, pushed me through. Then seemed surprised that half a dozen girls were standing at the mirrored sinks applying lipstick, eyeliner, or mascara. It was part of the morning ritual for some of them.

“I need to get my books,” I told her. “Or I'm going to be late for class.”

“What you need to do is listen.” She guided me back into the little alcove where the tampon dispenser had been installed, like girls wanted privacy when purchasing feminine hygiene products. “He made a bet with some of the guys at the party. Twenty bucks that he could get into your pants. He collected.”

I stared at her. Usually I was good at deciphering what she was saying when she got into one of her speed-talking
rolls without her having to repeat herself, but I got stuck on the idea that some guy wanted to get into my pants. “Who?”

“Fletcher,” she whispered harshly. “That's why he gave you a ride home.”

A cold chill trickled along my spine. My knees went weak. I pressed my back to the tiled wall. I thought about Scooter's smile, Josh's eyes roaming over me, Rhys's wink, Jade's glare. I shook my head. “But like I told you, nothing happened.”

“He says it did.”

Had I really worried about him last night, gone out to talk with him, comfort him, make him feel welcome? Had I really considered that I could like him?

The girls suddenly rushed out of the bathroom like we were under a zombie attack. But I just stood there like a zombie myself. Even after the first bell rang.

“Come on,” Kendall said, shaking me back to life.

“I don't understand why he did that.” I staggered for the door, like my brain couldn't connect to my legs. Definitely a zombie.

“Money? Because he's a douche?”

“But we talked. He seemed . . . nice.”
He rubbed my back when I threw up
. I grabbed the books I needed for class from my locker, then quickened my pace, grateful that Kendall and I had Advanced Calculus together. And
that Scooter, Josh, Rhys, Jade, and especially Fletcher would not be there.

“Well, ‘nice is as nice does' is what my mom always says.” Her mom often spoke in made-up proverbs. “You need to tell your dad about this. He'll kick him right out of your house. He can't be a project after this. He doesn't deserve your family.”

“Don't call him a project here at school. Nobody is supposed to know, remember?”

“Why do you care? He deserves some kind of payback.”

“Agreed, but it can't be anything that reflects on my family.”

“Fine. My lips are sealed, until I see him. Then I'm going to give him a piece of my mind.”

I had a feeling she was going to give him more than a piece.

We stepped into the room just as the tardy bell rang. Why did it sound like it was ringing the death knell on my reputation?

“Almost late, ladies,” Mr. Turner said, like it would be news to us.

“Sorry,” we both mumbled as we hurried to empty desks at the back of the room.

It was exam week. Because of my grades, I was exempt from every one of the two-hour exams spaced out over four days. I took a novel about a dystopian world out of
my backpack and settled in to read as the nonexempts labored over their tests. But after twenty minutes, I hadn't processed a single word. I was thinking about Fletcher, wondering why he'd made that stupid bet. Was everyone imagining me with him? Who all knew? Just the people who were at the party or had word spread through various social networks? Why would people care?

And to think that I'd been flattered that someone like Scooter Gibson had finally noticed me. He'd noticed me for all the wrong reasons. I felt stupid and hurt. And angry.

My reputation was ruined.

I'd always worried about being the good girl, never disappointing my parents, having stellar grades and an untarnished image. Like maybe I thought I would end up in politics or something and didn't want anyone to ever find any dirt hidden in my past. But mostly, I wanted to make my parents proud.

I loved that my parents took in foster kids, that they worked with them, tried to help them acclimate to a life without violence or drugs or abuse. But when they first started doing it, a small part of me had wondered if they were trying to find a replacement for me. If maybe I didn't exactly measure up to their expectations.

Crazy thoughts. I knew that. But it was amazing how I could blow things out of proportion. How something could worry me until it almost became a living, breathing demon
that sucked away all rational thought.

“Okay, people, time's up!” Mr. Turner announced. He was a stickler when it came to timing tests or accepting homework. He made no exceptions.

He took up the exams, then settled behind his desk and began calling us up to turn in our books. When he called my name, I walked to the front feeling like I was wearing a big scarlet
S
for
slut
on my back. I handed him my book.

He marked off my name, then looked at me with huge eyes magnified by his black-rimmed glasses. “Remember, Avery, every problem has a solution. Good luck.”

Had he said that to everyone? Did even the teachers know about the bet? “Uh, thanks,” I stammered. I'd barely reached my desk when the bell rang.

I snatched up my backpack. Without waiting for Kendall, I hurried out of the room and scoured the hallway for any sign of Fletcher as I strode to my locker, staring down every guy who looked at me like he was imagining me without clothes on, and one girl whose expression said “Slut.”

Of course, I had no classes whatsoever with loser Fletcher. And since he never studied or cracked open a book, I seldom saw him in the hallway where the seniors had their lockers. This morning I didn't see him at all. Maybe he hadn't even come to school. Maybe his bike was gone because he'd literally left, moved out. Maybe he was
heading out of state. Out of the country would be better.

Kendall caught up with me at my locker. “What was the hurry?” she asked. “We have two hours before the next exam.”

“I was trying to find Fletcher.”

“I haven't spotted him yet. Lucky for him. I would have punched him.”

I grinned. “Thanks.”

“Hey, babe,” Jeremy said as he joined us. He gave Kendall a quick kiss before looking at me. “Hey, Avery. Why so down? You're exempt from all your exams, right?”

“But not exempt from gossip,” I told him. “I just learned about that stupid bet that loser Fletcher made.”

“Yeah, that's a crappy way to start the last week of school, but for what it's worth, a lot of people don't believe anything happened.”

I knew he was trying to comfort me but all I really heard was that a lot of people knew. Then another thought hit me. Did people think nothing happened because Fletcher wouldn't even bother to make a pass at me? Which he hadn't, but still—I didn't want people knowing that. Or did they think I was strong enough not to be lured in by his curb appeal? I couldn't see any way for me to come out of this on top.

“Have you seen him?” I asked.

“No, I don't have any classes with the guy. Why don't
we get out of here?” he asked. “Go to the Burger Shack for lunch. I'll drive.”

“That sounds great,” I said. I needed to get off campus.

Of course, a lot of students went to the B.S. Standing in line, I endured their speculative glances. I was so glad when my food was ready and I was able to slip into a back corner booth.

Kendall and Jeremy sat opposite me. After squeezing ketchup over my fries, I shoved one into my mouth. The first good moment of the day: that incredible taste of something designed to clog my arteries.

“At least it's the last week of school,” Kendall mused. “And a short one. Exams the rest of the week, we're off Friday, have the ceremony Saturday, and we're done.”

“I don't understand why people believe him,” I muttered. “That they think I would just jump into the sack with him. I mean, we weren't even on a date. He just offered to give me a ride home.”

Kendall lifted a shoulder. “You got on his bike.”

“Since when does getting a ride from a guy equal sleeping with him?”

“It doesn't usually,” Jeremy told me. “But there was the bet—which I didn't even hear about until this morning or I would have done something about it at the party. Add Fletcher to the mix . . . he has a reputation with the girls.”

“But we're standing up for you,” Kendall said. “If anyone says anything to us, we're telling them the rumors going around are crap.” She looked sadly at her burger as though it had disappointed her. “Although I don't know how much good it does. I mean, I don't know that it's changing any minds.”

“That's what makes me so mad,” I told her. “Other than making an announcement over the PA system, there's no way I'm not leaving as the slut of Memorial High.”

“It's not that bad. Someone with poor judgment maybe, but not a slut. Besides, what does it really matter?” Kendall asked. “You're escaping at the end of summer. It won't follow you to college. And you'll probably never see any of these people until a class reunion.”

“It's the principle of the thing.” Who would have thought an innocent ride home would fill the last week of my senior year with such drama? “What if people haven't forgotten by the time we have a class reunion? What if that's all they remember about me? This stupid rumor that I did something with Fletcher.”

“They'll forget. It's only important to them now. More important things are bound to happen to them before a reunion. Or at least I hope they do; otherwise that's sad.”

“You're right,” I said. “They won't remember.” But I would. I'd remember the hurt of being played by a guy who I'd begun to think was nice. How could I have misjudged
him so badly? He seemed so nice when really he was scum. Despicable.

“Uh-oh,” Kendall whispered, sitting up straighter.