1
Jessica
High School - Senior Year
“Let me make one thing clear. The only way Manson Reed leaves this school tomorrow is on a stretcher, got that?”
There were nods of affirmation from the boys gathered around Kyle’s red Ford Raptor. The parking lot was nearly empty; even the principal’s Mercedes was gone. If it had been any other group of five boys lingering in the lot after school hours, the security guard would have dispersed them already. But it was quarterback, Kyle Baggins, and his teammates, and they could do no wrong.
Except they could, they did, and they were going to again. And this time, it was entirely my fault.
“It was just a kiss, Kyle,” I muttered, hanging out the passenger side window. I had my cheerleading uniform on, and even in the crisp autumn air, my skin was sticky with sweat from practice. We’d been arguing earlier, and he’d made me so upset I’d blurted out the one thing I knew would hurt him.
I’d kissed Manson Reed, the school outcast, the freak, the boy everyone loved to hate.
“Fuck that.” Kyle shook his head adamantly, his handsgripping the truck bed as if he wanted to tear through the metal. His jaw was clenched, his broad shoulders rigidwith tension. “Unless you’re trying to tell me you fucking enjoyed it, Jessica.”
I huffed and sat back in my seat with my arms folded, staring straight ahead. There was no reasoning with Kyle when he was like this. I didn’t dare tell him the truth.
I’d enjoyed it. I’d wanted it. Manson never would have laid a finger on me if he thought I didn’t want him to. He never would have kissed me if I hadn’t kissed him first.
But admitting what I’d done — whatwe’ddone — was social suicide. It had slipped out to Kyle, because I was so angry he’d left me for Veronica Mills, only to come sauntering back a month later. What better way to hurt him than to tell him I’d kissed the boy he’d bullied relentlessly since freshman year?
Kyle’s friends dispersed, and he got into the truck, turning it on. The engine roared as we sped down the road, whipping up leaves in a flurry behind us as he took me home. I was gripping my cell so tightly my fingers ached, knuckles gone white.
Kyle was Wickeston High School’s star talent on the football field, the dream boy, handsome, and popular. My mom adored him, and his parents thought we were destined to be married right after we graduated. The idea filled me with dread. Behind his blue eyes and charming smile, Kyle was temperamental, jealous, and prone to fits of anger that would have us screaming at each other for hours.
He was also a damn cheater.
“Jesus Christ, would you stop sulking?” he snapped, his hand twisting on the steering wheel like he wanted to strangle it. Or like he was imagining strangling someone else.
“You can’t keep doing this,” I said. “You’re eighteen. You have scholarships. If you end up with assault charges, it’ll ruin everything.”
“Reed is eighteen, too, isn’t he?”
He was. His birthday had passed only a month ago — October 11th. But I wasn’t about to piss Kyle off more with my knowledge about Manson’s birthday.
He smirked at my silence. “Besides, do you really think they’re going to press charges overhim? Who’s going to do it, Jessica? You think that freak’s old lady will stay sober long enough to care if he’s dead in a ditch somewhere?” He chuckled, like it was the best joke he’d ever heard. “If she isn’t housing her bastard kid, then she has more money for booze. Sounds like a win for her.”
My stomach felt like it was being yanked tight between two fists. I kept my arms folded so he wouldn’t see them shaking. When he reached out and gripped my leg, I wanted nothing more than to swing my fist over and bash his face.
“I’m looking out for your honor, Jess,” he said. “That scrawny freak isn’t going to get away with this.”
As if he knew a damn thing about honor.
Mom was in the kitchen when I got home. The scent of parmesan and garlic wafted through the house. She said something to me as I ran up the stairs, but I didn’t have time to answer. The clock was ticking.
I had to warn Manson.
I didn’t bother to shower; I just switched out my black and silver uniform for jeans and a hoodie. Dad poked his head out from the dining room as I rushed back down the stairs, my bag bouncing over my shoulder as I headed for the door.
“Why the rush, sunshine?” he said, his forehead creased with concern. “Your mother just finished up dinner. Won’t you join us?”
“Can’t tonight. Sorry, Dad!” I called to him as I slipped out the door. “I promised Ashley I’d help her with a project.”
I wasn’t sure if he heard the tension in my voice. Dad hadnever been a very discerning parent. His brain worked best in numbers and neat spreadsheets, where everything made sense and followed a logical sequence.
My BMW still had that new car smell, the engine purring softly as I sped down the dark country roads. It had been a birthday present from my parents, given to me right before the semester started. White exterior, red leather seats. My dream car. One more status symbol to hold my head a little higher when I walked through the halls of Wickeston High.