It may still be early September, but the breeze carries a chill across the lake.
This is the closest I’ve ever been to something even remotely similar to an ocean. I’ve never been lucky enough to be placed in a home near a body of water bigger than the local duck pond—also, simultaneously, usually the place where the local druggies go to score meth. Yeah … I’ve been some places. Just not the good ones.
The grass slopes gently down towards a rocky, curved beach. Far up to the north of us on a craggy outcrop is a worn white lighthouse only visible here from the shore. It’s a clear day, warm, sunny, and marked by the soft rhythmic lapping of silver water on the shore.
It’s almost enough to still the racing of my pulse.
The rest of my Phys Ed class is already gathered down by the boathouse. From the lazy way they’re all sprawling out on the beach, I realize most of them probably already know how to sail … or at least got to watch someone else firsthand. I don’t even know if I get seasick. I should have used the White account to buy some Dramamine.
Wills Stryker, the boy from math, is among the students waiting for class to start. He’s in his element here. Cocky. Self-assured. That insecure slump has been replaced with pin-straight posture and muscles coiled for action. The ‘new girl shine’ gets me some looks when I approach, but none strike me more than the way he looks at me.
Everyone else is so easy to read, but not him. He’s not letting out anything that’s going on behind that stare. He’d make a great poker partner.
I match his gaze for a few long moments and he doesn’t flinch or even blink. I don’t want to be the one to look away first, but eventually I have to. If that was some kind of competition, I just lost.
As soon as I break the connection, he lifts his chin and struts over to me with casual purpose. I cross my arms over my chest and look up at him again when he stops a couple of feet from me. He speaks, and his voice is deep and strong.
“New girl.”
I sigh quietly and tilt my head just a little, so he knows he’s trying my patience.
“I have a name,” I say indifferently. The other boys in the class step up behind him, watching him, listening to him, and I realize that I’m not just looking at any jock. This is the top jock of the school. Great.
“You going out for any sports?” He asks it as a challenge, not a question.
I hadn’t given it any thought. I’ve never been one to go out for sports … or anything else extracurricular for that matter. Unless you count minor shoplifting from the local convenience store.
“Should I run it past you first if I do?” I smart off instinctively, and then realize that I’m trying to be Sadie White, not Teddy Price. It was such a Teddy thing to say, and I try to temper my tone a little for whatever comes next.
“Damn straight.” His tone is dripping with arrogance. “This lake … these fields … the courts … they’re my turf. This whole school is my turf. You better remember that.” He reaches a hand forward and flips my long, now bleached-straight hair toward my face. “Blondie.”
If I was still just Teddy, I’d punch him right now. I clench my fists and grit my teeth. It takes everything in me to channel my inner Sadie. What would Sadie say? She’d come back with something shallow and flippant. I can do that.
“Is that supposed to be an insult? You’re blonde too … genius.”
The comment draws snickers from some of the other boys as I walk away. Wills’ cheeks turn pink and his eyes storm at me when I glance back over my shoulder at him. I think that means we’re even now.
The teacher shows up and starts pairing everyone off for our first sailing lesson right away. He takes one look at Wills and the other boys horsing around on the beach and isn’t having any of it. He’s got them split up with new partners faster than any of them can protest—and no surprise, he pairs me up with Wills.
Make sure the new girl doesn’t drown on her first day by pairing her with the swim captain. I guess it makes sense … if the person who’s supposed to take care of me doesn’t already have a problem with me. The carefree look on Wills’ face hardens as he shoves a life preserver into my arms. His hands st
ay clenched to the padding for a moment longer than necessary as he stares me down, willing me without words to try and test him.
As bitter as we are to be sailing partners, Will’s friends seem to have a very different idea about the pair. They keep patting Wills on the butt and winking at me as they pass by on the way to the tiny fleet of sailboats.
Wills hops sure-footedly into the tiny, bobbing boat and immediately starts tying things off. He doesn’t offer to help me in after him, even when it takes me three attempts to find the best way to step down without flashing my underwear under my school uniform. He just glances my way and grunts when the boat tilts under my weight. He’s not going to make this easy.
I try to follow along with the instructor, but Wills is already many steps ahead. He’s already anxiously waiting for the order to untie the boats from the dock while the teacher is still explaining to another girl that yes, she must wear her lifejacket even though it clashes with her uniform.
I tug at the straps on my own jacket. Wills still has his slung over one shoulder, but the teacher says nothing when he passes by. Finally, Wills can wait no longer.
I barely have time to grab onto the side of the boat before it shoots away from the side of the dock, propelled by a powerful kick.
“What are you—"
I’m cut off as Wills barrels past me, pushing me out of the way to make some adjustments to the sails.
The teacher turns back and starts running back towards us, his arms waving over his head. By the time he’s reached the place where our boat was moored, we’re already nearly out of earshot.