Gemma: Just found this new location and omg I’m dying to do a shoot there with you. I want to show you so much here. Come visit me soon!
A visit with Gemma sounds incredible.
But it’s also impossible. Money, my mom, money, my junk box car, money. There’s too much keeping me from living the life a normal teen would.
A pang hits me in the chest. I miss Gemma. Before she befriended me last year as the badass new girl, I was a nobody in this school. Other than crossing paths with Devlin, I kept my head down and focused as much as I could on my studies while the vultures at this school called me names and taunted me for being poor. Gemma made so much of that go away.
Her boyfriend—the previous king of the school—wasn’t even so bad once Gemma got his head screwed on straight.
Why did Gemma have to be a grade ahead of me?
The heaviness of being left behind weighs down on my shoulders. I dig my fingers into the grass.
“Keep it up, ladies,” the track coach calls, her encouragement floating my way.
I pretend that she’s still offering me a boost.
A light breeze shifts my skirt, the evergreen and white plaid material riding up my legs. The blades of grass tickle the back of my knees.
I want to run. Maybe I should change into my gym clothes and jog the track around the football field.
“That’s it, girls! Go, go!”
Even though I was kicked off the track team last year, at the end of the cross country season, I still come to watch them. It was a shock when the coach told me she had no choice but to take me off the team. The rules were clear, she’d explained, and I had too many demerits on my school record.
Ridiculous.
My teeth scrape across my lip as I dig harder into the grass, tearing at it. I release my fist and watch the blades flutter to the ground.
I know exactly who to thank for getting thrown off the team.
Devlin.
Evil fucking bastard.
He retaliated against me picking his friend’s pocket last year by fabricating more detentions on my school file. With a best friend who is the son of our principal and his elective as an office aid, it was probably easy for him. And because I don’t have a rich family to donate to the school, no one noticed anything amiss with my file.
When it all went down with my coach at one of our last practices of the season, Devlin made sure he was close by to watch the showdown, of course. He smirked as he wiped his mouth with the neck of his soccer jersey. When the burn of his smug stare became too much to ignore, I swung my gaze to him. Told you, he mouthed.
Because he’d warned me not to try him.
I muffle an irritated sound in my throat and slam my fist on the ground.
The cruel king can take away my spot on the team, but he can’t take running from me. I still run anyway.
“Nice, Katrina!” My old coach praises a girl as she reaches the group.
Sitting up, I tuck my legs into a pretzel, leaning my elbows on my knees as I hunch over.
I don’t think many of the team liked me, but running with those girls filled a gaping hole in my chest, just a little so the loneliness didn’t bend in on itself like an aching empty stomach wracked with hunger pangs. The team was sort of like a family. It’s not the running I miss, but running with other people who have my back.
Another text interrupts my moping. It must be Gemma, since I didn’t respond.
It’s from a number I don’t have in my phone. My brows pinch together. What the hell?
Unknown: Do the first english essay for me. $250.
Realization dawns on me. My entire body goes hot and cold with emotion all at once. It’s from Devlin.