I give her a small nod, hoping that she’s right.
“Do you want me to wait?”
I shake my head. “Boswell will bring me home when I’m ready.”
“All right. Love you.”
“Love you.”
Boswell opens the door before I get to it.
“Ms. Wright, the boys are on the back porch. Head on back, and I’ll bring you water with lemon.”
I smile. He knows me so well.
Walking through the house, I stop when I reach the open sliding glass door. I hear the male voices floating through. My heart drops a little. I wanted to tell him alone. When Boswell said boys, I thought he meant Reed and Keaton. Maybe Finley and Sterling. The voices coming to me now are not them. They are boys in our class.
“Miranda has some tits on her though. Did you see her in class yesterday? I swore the top button of her shirt would pop like a damn balloon.”
What the hell is Keaton doing with Charles Darling? He’s the asshole of our class, constantly making rude comments to the girls and getting into fights with boys.
“Miranda? Nah, brah, what about Stacey? That ass is to die for. What I wouldn’t give to hop on that shit like a kangaroo.”
They all laugh at the comment Charles’s best friend Ryan makes.
“What about you, Keaton? You are always hanging out with that ironing board. What’s her name again? Morgan?”
My heart stills.
Ironing board?
I look down at my body. I’m thin with small boobs, but that comes with being a ballerina. You need to be thin to flow through the air, or so Mrs. Lutz, my ballet instructor, says.
I expect Keaton to stick up for me and set them straight. I don’t expect the next words out of his mouth.
“Yep, that’s Morgan for you.”
I can almost picture the shrug at the end of that statement.
Tears threaten my eyes as I turn to leave, but Ryan’s next question stops me.
“You bang that yet?”
A long silence passes before Keaton laughs. “You already know, brah.”
They all burst out laughing. This time, I don’t stop. I turn and run right to the front door. Boswell catches me as I reach it.
“What’s wrong, Ms. Wright?”
He’s holding a tray of drinks. I feel the tears pouring from my eyes as the tightness in my chest continues to retract like a vice on my heart. The betrayal threatens to crush me.
“Take me home?” I whimper between sobs.
He doesn’t hesitate. He sets his tray down on a hall table before opening the door for me. From behind, I hear Keaton hollers, “Boswell, what’s taking so long?”
“Shouldn’t you go to him? I whisper.
“He can wait. Let’s get you home.”
The drive home is silent as I sob uncontrollably in the back seat. I want to be strong like my mom taught me, but I love Keaton. Those words he spoke shattered me.
“Here you are, Ms. Wright.”
“Thank you, Boswell. Could you not tell Keaton I stopped by?”
He gives me a sad smile. “I’ll take it to my grave.”
I return his sad smile with a thankful one. “Take care of yourself.”
“You too, Ms. Wright. I’ll miss you.”
I think we both know this is goodbye for good.
When I enter the front door, my mom pops her head around the corner to see who it is. When she sees me, her eyes go wide.
“What’s wrong? What happened?” She engulfs me in her arms, offering me the comfort I need.
“I don’t want to talk about it. When can we leave for Chicago? Please tell me right now.”
“Honey, whatever it is can’t be that bad. Let’s not make rash decisions.”
“No, Mom, it’s worse. Please, can’t we go?”
She sighs. “You know I think you should face your problems, not run away.”
“Mom, I know. Just this once can you just let me? Please? I need time.”
She gives in. “Just this once. We can go check the campus out again tomorrow. Maybe spend a few days in the city.”
“Thank you, Mom,” I whisper as I let the rest of today's emotions pour from my body.
✽✽✽
Chapter 1
Morgan
Senior year
I never thought I would see this building again.
When I left two and a half years ago, I thought I had left this place behind me.
Sighing, I take the first step, a shot of discomfort through my ankle a painful reminder of why I’m here.
Walking through the doors, I take in my surroundings. The school hasn’t changed a bit since freshman year. I head straight to the senior hall, ignoring the questioning glances from many of my former classmates. I can see that they are trying to figure out how they know me. I don’t blame them. I never talked to many people when I was here. Well, except him.
I don’t want to think about him though. I’d like to say that I forgot him after I left, but the truth is, he’s never far from my mind.
Time and distance didn’t change the underlying feelings of betrayal.
Finding my locker, I open it, shoving the books my parents picked up for me inside.
“Damn, girl. You’re looking fine. Please tell me how we’ve never met before.” His voice freezes me momentarily.
It’s deeper and a little raspier, but it’s still the same.
Keaton.
I tense only a moment before clicking my armor into place. Spinning around, I slam my locker door before cocking my hip.
“Keaton Yates. I see nothing about you has changed.” I give him a quick once-over before giving him a unimpressed look.
“Morgan?” A surprised look crosses his face briefly, but it’s quickly replaced by a darker expression.
“Yep.” I pop the P, then turn and walk away.
“See you around, Morgan,” he calls after me.
Shit.
I know he means it as a threat. I remember the way the Yates crew works.
I used to be a part of that crew. Sort of. By extension.
I slide into first period three minutes early, settling into a desk in the back. A familiar face walks in just behind me.
“Morgan Wright? Is that you?” Rachel Simmons, one of the popular girls
