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prologue
CASH
“WE SHOULD BREAK UP,” WHITNEYannounces on our way out of algebra class.
Her unfeeling declaration shouldn’t surprise me since I knew this was inevitable, but I didn’t expect her to dump me a few hours before prom.
I stop in the middle of the hallway, not caring that I’m blocking traffic. “Why now?” I ask, tightening my grip on my backpack straps.
She looks down at her pink painted nails, refusing to make eye contact with me.
“Things have been different since the accident. You’re different.”Translation: Now that your face is fucked up, I can barely stand to look at you.“Graduation is right around the corner, and with me leaving for Princeton at the beginning ofthe summer, it only makes sense for us to part ways now.”Translation: I want a clean break so I can date someone I’m not embarrassed to be seen with.
Now that I’m no longer the “ruggedly handsome lacrosse player,” as she so fondly used to call me, she’s eager to replace me with someone who won’t ruin pictures with a jagged scar marring half his face.
“Cash, are you listening to me?” She waves her hand in front of me to grab my attention when I don’t respond.
“My face may be fucked up but my ears work just fine, Whit,” I say through gritted teeth.
“What did I say?” she challenges, hands on her hips.
“That you’re embarrassed to be seen with me, and you want to date other people. Does that sum it up?” Okay, so those weren’t her exact words, but we both know that’s what she’s thinking.
“You’re twisting what I said,” she retorts, raising her voice and taking a defensive stance, arms folded tightly across her chest.
The sound of someone snickering catches my attention. That’s when I notice the sizable crowd of students lingering in the hall, interested to hear how this argument unfolds.
“You’re right. We have grown apart,” I say, keeping my voice steady.
Whitney’s eyes widen in shock at hearing me agree. That’s whenshenotices our audience, causing a sudden shift in her blasé attitude. She gets fidgety and twirls a piece of hair around her finger, shifting from foot to foot.
“What are you saying?” she demands, glancing back at her friends who have joined the group of spectators.
From her reaction, one would assume she’s the one being dumped in front of an audience, not the other way around.
“We should break up,” I say, echoing her earlier declaration.
“Just like that?” she demands. “You’re not even going to try to convince me to change my mind? How could you humiliate me in front of—”
“Cut the theatrics, Whitney,” Theo interrupts her rant, standing beside me in a silent show of support. “You said it yourself. It’s over. Don’t embarrass yourself more than you already have.”
He must have been in the crowd watching things play out. We’ve been best friends since preschool, and he’s one of the few people I can count on always to have my back.
“Mind your own business, Theo,” Whitney spits out. “This is a private conversation between me and my boyfriend.”
“Ex-boyfriend,” I interject. “You were just telling me you wanted to break up, remember?”
“And from where I’m standing, this is as far from private as you can get,” Theo adds. “Now, why don’t you and your friends get lost?” He shoos her like a dog.
Whitney’s cheeks turn bright red when the hallway fills with laughter. “Are you really going to just stand there and let him disrespect me?” she whines.
“Theo’s right. It’s best if you leave,” I say calmly.
“You’ll be sorry,” she fumes. “Don’t come begging to win me back when you see me with my new prom date tonight. He’s a freshman in college,” she throws in my face before storming away.
Her entourage hurries after her, and the crowd quickly disperses now that the spectacle is over.
It shouldn’t surprise me that she has another date lined up. She would never risk the humiliation of going alone.