Page 1 of Sugar (Gilded #1)

MADDIE

“ W hat’s your deal, dude?”

“Not a dude,” one of my best friends grumbled at my question, not looking up from the mushy meat she poked at.

Private school or not, cafeteria food would always suck.

And honestly, I was fairly certain ours sucked worse than public school.

We didn’t get pizza day or nachos or little ice cream cups served with a wooden stick we were supposed to use like a spoon.

We got organic meatloaf made with quinoa and lentils.

Not that I blamed the staff for the culinary abominations. They needed to prepare food in bulk that would still accommodate the demanding nutritional and health-focused criteria the school touted. They put in a valiant effort, but it was also a wasted one.

The seniors were technically the only ones allowed to leave campus for lunch, but that didn’t stop others from going, too. The ones who did stay ordered delivery or brought gourmet food from home.

I was in that last category. Unlike most, my lunchbox wasn’t filled with sushi rolls or chopped salads. My mom gave me a traditional kid lunch of a sandwich and junk snacks.

“You’ve barely said three words all day,” I said when Wren’s silence stretched. “And I’m pretty sure Billy was gonna ask you to homecoming, but you walked away when he was mid-sentence.”

She’d been crushing on Billy since we were basically babies—back when he thought spilling her chocolate milk onto her lap and yelling that she peed herself was flirting.

Though truth be told, he probably still thought that.

I’d assumed the confirmation that her interest was reciprocated would snap Wren from her funk, but she just lifted a shoulder. “He talks too much.”

“You’re over the Billy thing?”

And by thing , I meant obsession.

“No,” she muttered. “Just not in the mood.”

Digging into my lunch bag, I pulled out my sandwich container and opened it to take half before sliding the other across the table. “Cafeteria mystery meat is hazardous to your aliveness. Fourteen’s too young to die… Especially when you haven’t gone to a dance with Billy yet. Bucket list.”

She rolled her eyes but shoved her tray to the side and grabbed the sandwich.

I pulled the small bag of chips out and opened them, putting it between us to share. I nudged my Diet Coke can closer, too.

She added the carton of oat or almond or whatever milk to her discarded tray before snatching up the can. She slowly opened it, careful not to chip her glittery pink nails.

We ate silently, my eyes on her and hers on the table.

When we finished, I unraveled half of my Fruit by the Foot and tore it off. I started to hand her the still rolled portion, but when she went for it, I lifted it out of reach. “I’m not gonna force you to talk. Though, fair warning, Greer will definitely try.”

Like I’d summoned her, the third in our friendship tripod flopped down in the spot next to me.

I’d assumed the beautiful overachiever had some club meeting, but it must’ve been band practice that’d taken up part of the period.

Her drumsticks clattered on the table next to her lunchbox.

“What will I…” Her unnecessary question trailed off when she saw the turmoil that was clear as day on Wren’s face. “What is it?”

It had pretty much been written in the stars that the three of us would be besties since we were second-generation friends.

Our moms had been tight since college. They’d pledged the same sorority, served as maids of honor in one another’s weddings, and had gotten pregnant within months of each other with their only children.

My dad and Greer’s dad ran a plastic surgery practice together, and we all lived on the same street.

The only exception to that last part was when we were ten, and Wren’s parents’ marriage went down the shitter. But that’d just meant that Wren and her mom had temporarily moved closer by staying at my house.

According to a drunken gossip-fest we’d overheard, the OGs—what we called our moms—had even narrowly avoided serving jail time together during the messy divorce process.

Not that I wanted them to do that, but it would’ve really added to the illustrious friendship.

They’d shown their displeasure with Wren’s dad by using his expensive golf clubs to shatter his computer, realtor awards, stock of liquor, and anything else breakable in his office.

He’d had it coming.

Actually, he had worse coming. They should’ve beaten him with the clubs, too.

The fact he’d cheated with his dumb-as-a-rock receptionist was bad—and cliché—enough. But he’d made it that much worse by declining any sort of official visitation with Wren. He’d blamed his hectic work schedule, as if she was a baby who needed supervision.

But then he’d really gone for that Dad-of-the-Year trophy by setting his attack dog lawyers on Dina.

Years of her putting her own life on hold to support him, and he hadn’t wanted to pay spousal or even child support. He’d fought her over the money. Their investments. The cars.

And the house.

His willingness to leave his wife and only child on the streets was what’d earned the OGs that golf outing in his office.

He’d wanted to press charges, but the only lawyer in the firm—or maybe the world—with a conscience talked him down.

Not with anything especially noble. He simply pointed out that the case would go public and prospective buyers wouldn’t be keen on using a realtor who’d abandoned his family.

NDAs were signed and assets had been split.

Dina and Wren hadn’t gotten everything—which was what I thought they deserved—but it was better than nothing.

After all those years of tight friendship, we knew each other better than we knew ourselves.

Wren met my eyes and held out her hand expectantly.

I gave her the fruit snack and tore some off for Greer before starting on the remainder.

And then I almost choked on it when Wren muttered, “We’re moving.”

Pain, panic, and doom settled deep in my heart, shaking it around until it felt like it would shatter. “What? Where? When?”

“Who and why, too.”

“I’m serious, Wrenley,” I said, pulling out her rarely used full name.

She tossed my own back at me. “So am I, Madeline .”

Greer didn’t move, even when the filling of her organic sprout and lawn clipping wrap began to spill out. That wasn’t actually what it was, but it was close enough.

My body was frozen, too, but my mind sure wasn’t. My thoughts raced at a million miles an hour, freaking out and planning how I was going to convince my parents that Wren needed to move in again.

Maybe I can convince them that it’s vital to my wellbeing. Dad’s a doctor, he’ll get it. I’ll even research some studies on the effects of heartbreak to overall health.

“How far?” Greer finally croaked out.

“Fifteen minutes. And that’s if there’s no traffic.”

Greer let out an annoyed grunt as she flicked a sprout across the table. “You witch. I thought you meant out of state.”

Relief filled me, and I thought I would melt to the floor. “And I thought she was gonna say England or something. But fifteen minutes? I mean, there’s always traffic, so it will definitely be longer, but whatever. That doesn’t matter. It’s nothing. I can even bike that, and you know I’m lazy.”

“Fifteen minutes isn’t right down the street,” Wren pointed out, tears filling her big brown eyes.

We joked that since we were destined to be friends, we fit together like puzzle pieces—which had been our Halloween costume a handful of years back because we had no shame in our friendship game.

Wren had fair skin and pale blonde hair, but her eyes were so dark that they were almost black. I had perma-tan skin and dark brown hair, but my eyes were bright, cornflower blue. Greer was in between with light brown hair and hazel eyes.

Greer was also a couple inches taller than my own five foot three—though I was holding out for one last growth spurt. It didn’t need to be much. Six inches or so would be fine. Unlike me, Wren was completely happy with her height of barely five-one. She hoped she wouldn’t grow anymore.

She was also comfortable with her midsize curves, while I was still trying to figure out how to smoosh my boobs down so I could wear my favorite top. Greer’s thin frame had just enough height and curve to fit anything she wanted, though she stuck to regular tees and jeans.

They were effortlessly smart in their own ways. I had to study my butt off.

Wren was active and loved track. Greer preferred yoga. I could only run a mile if someone drove me three-quarters of the way.

Mom always said the only exercise I got was jumping to conclusions since I was prone to teenage dramatics.

I also was, maybe, just slightly, a bit high maintenance.

Greer stayed calm, cool, and collected because her type-A personality had allowed her to foresee possible problems and plan for them.

And Wren was all sunshine, all the time.

Usually.

Her freaking out over moving such a short distance was unlike her. Totally like me, yeah, but not her.

I tried to talk her off the ledge. “You might not be down the street, but it’s also not far. We’ll still have movie night and sleepovers and all that. Literally nothing will change.”

“ Everything will change.”

“What’s going on?” I pushed when it became obvious there was more.

“Mom and John are getting married.”

I bit back my squeal because it wasn’t the time for my excitement.

“You said you thought he was gonna ask,” I reminded her.

“I know.”

“Are you… I mean, your parents… It’s been?—”

“No!” she shouted before lowering her voice. “You know I’ve never been one of those kids who wants their parents back together. Never, ever, ever . I was happy when they split. And I love John. I think… I think I’m going to call him Dad.”

My heart swelled for my bestie. “Then what’s the problem?”

“He’s, like, mega-rich.”

This we knew.