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I let out a long sigh and focused on my food. I needed to get Ally to agree to play nice, or we’d spend the next twelve months slowly chipping away at each other. I worried that if we kept whittling each other down then neither of us was going to get through senior year in one piece. She’d said she’d consider the truce, and I just hoped she was willing to give it a chance.

3

Ally

“Please tellme the rumors are true!”

I closed my locker door and found Mia standing at my side. She was grinning at me, seemingly convinced that I knew what she was talking about. Her blonde hair was pulled back in a ponytail and she was wearing an old pair of biker boots, denim shorts, and a flannel T-shirt. She was a master at finding amazing pieces at vintage shops and always dressed effortlessly cool. I think part of the reason she always looked great, no matter what she wore, was the simple fact she didn’t care what other people thought of her.

“And what rumors would those be?” I asked.

“The ones where Chase Williams is living with you for senior year!”

I groaned and glanced at the ground, wishing it would just open up and swallow me whole. The first day of senior year hadn’t even started yet, and already, I wanted it to be over. “Please don’t remind me.”

“So, itistrue.”

“Unfortunately.”

A small crease formed across Mia’s brow at my response, but she didn’t let my frustration spoil her excitement. “Why didn’t you spill before now? We were all at the movies on Friday; you could have easily told us then.”

“Because I only found out last night,” I replied. “And besides, I was somewhat hoping that if I didn’t say it aloud perhaps it wouldn’t really be happening.”

Mia folded her arms over her chest, and her frown became more pronounced as some of the enthusiasm dimmed in her eyes. “Why aren’t you happy about this?”

I opened my mouth to respond, but the words got stuck. How did I even begin to explain all the things that were wrong with Chase Williams living with me?

“Probably because Chase gets his kicks in life from making Ally miserable,” Tessa said, coming to my rescue. I glanced in her direction as she came to stand next to me and could see pity in her gaze as we made eye contact. We were so close that sometimes it felt like we didn’t even need to speak to know how the other person was feeling, and with that one look, I could see she was asking if I was okay. I gave her a brief nod, and she responded with a supportive smile.

“Since when does Chase like making Ally miserable?” Mia asked.

Tessa let out a laugh and shook her head. “Since always. Did you have blinders on last year or something?” Mia had only come to Fairview six months ago, so I guess it wasn’t all that surprising she hadn’t noticed Chase was my mortal enemy.

Mia’s forehead creased as though she was trying to remember any of the interactions she’d witnessed between Chase and me. There couldn’t have been many because I tended to avoid Chase like my life depended on it. There was an altercation in the cafeteria toward the end of last year that she probably would have seen though.

As if reading my mind her eyes lit with understanding. “The pizza showdown.”

“It wasn’t a showdown.”

Tessa chuckled. “It totally was.”

The two of us had been in line for food right by each other, and he’d taken the last four pizza slices. He’d given me a knowing smirk over his shoulder as he picked them up so I knew he’d done it on purpose. I couldn’t exactly stand by and let him get away with such a jerk move.

“He deserved it,” I muttered.

“And what about the pizza?” Tessa asked.

“Well, you should never provoke a hungry woman and expect your pizza to live to tell the tale.”

Tessa and Mia both laughed.

“I guess you’re right,” Mia said. “You guys don’t really seem to get along. Maybe it’s just a misunderstanding though?”

“Trust me. There’s no misunderstanding,” I confirmed. Chase looked at me with the kind of repulsion that was impossible to fake, and he’d made his opinions of me quite clear over the years.

“So, how does this work into your senior year plans?” Tessa asked.

My friends always teased me because I liked to plan things out. I always felt more comfortable going into a situation armed with a strategy. They often said that my diary was a clear sign I’d one day become a serial killer. I didn’t think it was nearly as weird as they insisted. So what if I had color-coded highlights for everything? I wasn’t a barbarian.