I know just how you feel. Popular kids suuuck.
Did it ever occur to you to try and improve your looks instead of just being a crybaby complainer?
Go read Str-S-d #4, Ru22.
Perhaps your wish will come true.
I’m sorry, but I think this is REALLY wrong. I know they were really nasty mean to you the other day, but you have to realize that it’s just because THEY’RE the stupid and immature ones. But wishing someone would die is really wrong. Really.
chapter 1
Sunday 3:09 A.M.
THE RED TAILLIGHTS of Tyler Starling’s ugly purple car disappeared into the dark. It was just after three A.M., chilly and quiet. Lucy Cunningham stepped off her front walk and strolled down the dark tree-lined street. The last thing she needed was for her father to look through the bedroom window and see her smoking.
Lucy hugged herself, her thin jacket not warm enough in the crisp November air. Except for a few lights above front doors, the houses on her block were dark. In the sky above, stars sparkled through the bare tree branches. It was almost eerily silent, but Lucy was too busy thinking about the fight she’d just had with Adam to notice.
On the surface, the argument had been about the future. She wanted to apply to Stanford. But Adam was dead set on Harvard. Being both an excellent lacrosse goalie and a straight-A student with 2300 boards, he had a very good chance of being accepted. But why couldn’t he also apply to Stanford? Their lacrosse team was better than Harvard’s.
She took a drag. The cigarette glowed red-hot as tobacco turned to ash and smoke filled her lungs in that strangely soothing way she seemed to crave more and more lately. Just as she had begun to look forward to drinking every Friday and Saturday night. Yes, she’d been warned not to drink while on her meds. Yes, she’d been told a thousand times that smoking kills. But after a fight like the one she’d just had with Adam, how could she
Lucy shivered.
Lucy cursed herself for being so blind. Why hadn’t she figured it out sooner? Adam had lost interest. Even being extra sweet and attentive tonight, and touching him in all the right places hadn’t worked. So it was time to switch to damage-control mode. No boy had ever dumped her before, and it wasn’t going to happen now. She would simply have to dump him first … right now. As soon as she went inside she would post it on Facebook so that the evidence of it … the
Lucy crushed the butt of the cigarette with her shoe. No matter what her problems, she could overcome them. It was a matter of will. If you worked hard enough, you could do anything. Whatever Lucy was, she’d willed herself to become. She’d worked for it, suffered for it, agonized, and fought for it. If it meant cheating on a test to get the highest grade, she did it. If it meant stealing someone’s boyfriend because he was the hottest guy in the class, she did that, too. And this is just the start. After all, high school was nothing more than potty training for life.
Lost in thought, Lucy turned back through the dark silence toward her house. The tall trees cast skeletal night shadows. The quiet hung in the air around her like mist. Despite the solitude of the late hour, it never occurred to Lucy to feel nervous. This was Soundview, the best of neighborhoods, the place where she’d grown up and had always felt safe.
As she passed a wide tree that cast a thick, spidery shadow across the street, a figure quietly stepped out. Lucy never saw or heard a thing. The presence moved up behind her, barely disturbing the still air. From out of nowhere, a damp rag smelling strongly chemical was jammed hard against her nose and mouth. Alarm instantly raced from Lucy’s core to her extremities. Her hands flew to her face and tried to tear the rag away, but that first breath of chemicals brought a fog to her brain, making her reactions sluggish. She flailed feebly at the strong gloved hands holding the rag, but her fingers seemed unable to grip. By the time she tried to scream, she’d taken a second breath, and the cry that left her throat, muffled by the rag, was so weak and faint that it sounded like the bleating of some distant forlorn animal.
The heavy fog was like a trapdoor pressing down on her consciousness.
Her knees gave out.
She went limp.
Her body would have collapsed in a heap were it not for the arms that went around her chest. Her attacker began to drag her around the corner to a parked car.
Lucy Cunningham’s heels scraped along the dark, quiet street … and all her worries about the future became a thing of the past.
chapter 2
Sunday 3:02 A.M. (7 minutes earlier)
“RICH BITCH,” TYLER Starling muttered as he steered with one hand and turned up the music with the other. It was something he called hard-style techno, which, he claimed, was very popular in Germany and the Netherlands.
Next to him in the dark car, I winced. The loud thumping music was raw electronic and difficult to follow. An assault on the ears, especially given the late hour, it only added to the discomfort I was already feeling. All week I’d looked forward to spending tonight with this new, interesting guy who’d suddenly shown up at Soundview High almost a month after school began. He was tall, wiry, handsome, and, I thought, seriously sexy, with a slightly crooked nose that must have been the result of being broken.
But now, as the final moments of our night together approached, my plans were slipping away into disappointment. Tyler’s “rich bitch” comment just made it worse. If he didn’t like rich people, I was in serious trouble.
There were other reasons to feel discomfort. By dropping Lucy Cunningham off in front of her house and driving away, we’d broken an important Safe Rides rule—making sure “the client” was safely inside before we left. But it was nearly three A.M., and Lucy was being a complete pain, standing in the street and refusing to go into her house. What were we supposed to do? Take her by the hand and lead her to the front door?
“She’s not like that most of the time,” I said.
