Page 14

“Come on,” Sebastian groans.

“Shut it down,” he announces, pointing at the guys. “I want all your asses in your rooms for the night!”

He then grabs Sebastian’s elbow and pushes him toward the door, tossing the vodka into the trash can on the way.

SEBASTIAN

“Did you hear about the party at Justin’s this next weekend?” Brent asks from the desk next to me.

“Yeah, I’ll be there. Are you going?”

“Emily has been complaining about how I don’t take her out anymore, so I promised her dinner and a movie that night, but if I can get away, I’ll stop by.”

“Yeah, Kassi’s been giving me crap too,” I tell him. “Honestly, I’m getting tired of her constant nagging. She used to be cool, but lately, she’s been on me about everything.”

Brent shakes his head and sighs. “Girls, man.”

“Quiet,” Mrs. Powell warns from the front of the room. “Have you boys finished reading the chapter?”

Looking down at my United States History book, which is still open to the first page of chapter twelve, I respond, “Almost, Mrs. Powell.”

“No talking until you’ve answered the review questions.”

A few people turn my way, including Low.

“You should tap that,” Brent jokes from beneath his breath.

“Who? Low?”

He chuckles quietly and nods.

“You’re fucked. That girl hates me.”

“That girl hates everyone.”

I’ve known Low since the fifth grade when my family moved here from Shoreline. She used to be part of our circle of friends. That was when she was fun and talkative, not the quiet recluse she is now. Brent would never admit to this, but he used to have a crush on her in middle school. One Halloween, we were all at her house for a party her parents threw. His goal was to kiss her, but when he finally got her alone in the backyard, she totally rejected him, which was a sucker punch to his ego.

The memory humors me. “You two really would’ve made a cute couple. Does it still burn?”

His eyes narrow. “Does what still burn?”

“Knowing that she’ll never kiss you the way you wish she would.”

His fist barrels into my bicep. “Fuck off.”

Rubbing my hand over where he hit me, I laugh, only to be scolded once again.

“If I have to get on to you boys one more time, you’ll be spending lunch in detention.”

“Mrs. Powell,” the office calls over the intercom.

“Yes?”

“Could you please send Sebastian West up to the office with his belongings?”

My gut sinks, wondering if this has anything to do with the alcohol coach caught me with this weekend. I toss my textbook into my bag and tell Brent that I’ll catch him later. As I walk through the empty halls, I pass Coach Lipscomb’s English class, but he doesn’t see me. Saturday night wasn’t the first time he caught me drinking. Earlier this year, I came home from a party completely wasted. My mother’s boyfriend, Kurt, was at the house, and we wound up getting into a fight. He knocked me around, took my car keys, and threw me out.

It was freezing as hell that night, and I was trashed and had nowhere to go. My eye was swelling shut, so I couldn’t crash at any of my friends’. They’d only ask me questions I wouldn’t be able to answer, so I called Coach.