by Amy Sparling
Saving Hadley
Amy Sparling
Copyright © 2019 by Amy Sparling
All rights reserved.
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Contents
Author’s Note
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Also by Amy Sparling
About the Author
Author’s Note
Welcome to Sterling Beach!
This series was a collaborative effort between myself and seven other amazing young adult authors. We created the town, the shops, and the characters and then each of us wrote a story set in this new world.
I love being a part of collaborative efforts like this, where my readers can explore new authors and other authors’ readers can explore my books in return.
The joy of reading brings us all together in a very special way and I thank you for reading Hadley and Jeremy’s story.
Let the summer fun begin…
One
The hallways of Shady Lane High are filled with the happy sounds of students on the last day of school. And yet I’m stuck in the counselor’s office. With only fifteen minutes left until the final bell rings for the day, sending us all out into our summer break, the last thing I expected was a note from the office requesting my presence in Mrs. Smith’s office. But I guess I know why I’m here, and I shouldn’t be surprised.
The counselor in question walks into her office after I’ve been sitting in here for five minutes. She doesn’t seem to be in any hurry even though school is almost out. She smells like coffee and strawberry vape juice and she offers me a tight-lipped smile as she sits at her desk.
“Hello, Hadley.”
“Hi.” My voice is too meek and I wish I’d sat a little straighter and spoken a little…smarter? Maybe then she’d have mercy on me.
Mrs. Smith laces her fingers together on top of her desk. She sat like this the last two times I was called down to her office. I can’t tell if she thinks it’s a friendly pose or an intimidating one. Her lips dip into a frown. “Do you know why you’re here?”
I gnaw on the inside of my lip. “My chemistry final?”
Maybe if my chemistry teacher hadn’t taken so long to upload the test grades online, I could have seen this meeting coming. But alas, I have no idea what grade I got on this ill-fated test of the sciences. It’s the one subject that I’ve never seemed to grasp like everyone else does. Algebra? History? Pre-cal? Piece of cake. But chemistry is this elusive mash of numbers and letters and terminology I just can’t stand.
Mrs. Smith nods. “I’m afraid so. You received a sixty-seven on your final exam yesterday.”
My chest falls. Sixty-seven. That’s just three points below what I needed to barely scrape by this year with a C average and pass the class.
“I tried,” I say, but the look on her face tells me it’s futile to beg for mercy now. She warned me a month ago that if I didn’t get my grades up, I’d fail and have to take summer school. “I really did try. I don’t know why I suck so much.”
Her severe expression softens just a tad. “You don’t suck, Hadley. You are a valuable student and you have all the potential in the world. However…” She lets out a sigh as she flips through some paperwork on her desk. “You will need to attend summer school. I’ve already spoken with your parents and they’ve agreed to online schooling.”
I wince when she says parents. Plural. I don’t have parents, not in the way she’s saying. I have my dad and then the stepmom, Lucy. She’s not related to me. She doesn’t raise me, she doesn’t take care of me. The most she’s ever done was toss me a box of tissues that time I had the flu and tell me to go to my room so I don’t make anyone else sick. Lucy absolutely does not deserve the title of parent. After my short internal rant about the woman who lives in my house, I realize what Mrs. Smith just said.
“Online schooling?”
“Yes, dear. You won’t have to come up here for summer school. You can take the online chemistry course from home. It’s a three week intensive course but I know you’ll do well. I believe in you.”
“Well, I guess that’s not so bad.” Nothing screams loser quite like showing up to school when everyone else is on their summer break.
She nods. “And you’ll get to start your senior year on time with no problems. I look forward to you graduating next year with all A’s.”
“Don’t get your hopes up,” I say with a snort.
She grins. “I believe in you, kiddo.” She slides some papers under the automatic stapler on her desk which binds them in the corner with a thunk. “Here’s your paperwork. The course is given through the local community college. That’s your username and password. You have all summer to get it done, but I suggest starting early. That way you’re not scrambling at the last minute.”
“Thanks,” I say, taking the papers. I stand up and sling my backpack over my shoulder, feeling about two feet tall. What kind of seventeen-year-old can’t even pass basic chemistry? I am a loser of the largest degree. Ugh.
I spend the last few minutes before the bell rings standing in the hallway trying not to cry. I knew this was a possibility. I’ve heard my dad and stepmom berate me for the last month about it, ever since Mrs. Smith sent a letter home saying I was in danger of failing. I really did try to pass this final exam, not that it matters. All those hours of studying while my boyfriend edited his YouTube videos beside me were all for nothing. I still failed. I could have been having fun with my friends instead of studying chemical equations.
I take a deep breath and will the tears away. Lane will be here any second and he’ll make everything better. We’ve only been dating for three months, but he’s totally the best. Extremely cute and even more popular. I’ve kind of had a crush on him ever since junior high when I was a dorky thirteen-year-old with braces and he was on the football team. He didn’t even know who I was back then, but then it all changed during spring break when I saw him at a party. Our eyes met from across Blake Asher’s swimming pool, and he smiled at me. We exchanged numbers and spent the whole night hanging out. Three days later, he was my official boyfriend.
The final bell rings. I smile at the happy memories and scan the crowd of students until I find Lane. He’s easy to spot because he’s the only person holding out a selfie stick while he walks through the throngs of people in the main hallway. Lane’s YouTube channel—The Right Lane— is something of a legend here at Shady Lane High. He finally got a hundred thousand subscribers a few months ago and things have really taken off since then. He must be documenting the last day of his senior year. He’s officially free from high school today. I, however, am stuck for another year.
“Lane!” I call out, waving to him. He sees me and cuts across the hallway, talking to this phone while he walks. I can’t hear what he’s saying, but it’s probably something like here’s my girlfriend, let’s go say hi to her. Over the last three months of us dating, his YouTube channel has gotten to know me as well as Lane knows me.
I reach out to hug him because I could really use a hug right now, but his arm wraps around my shoulders and kind of guides me out of the way. Maybe he wants some privac
y, but I’m not sure why because he’s still holding out that stupid selfie stick recording us. There is no privacy when the world is watching.
“I just had the stupidest meeting ever,” I say as he walks us down a quiet hallway near the art classrooms.
“Listen, Hadley,” Lane says, leaning his back against the wall. He shifts his selfie stick until both of our faces are in the frame. I see words scrolling across the screen and I realize he’s on YouTube live. He’s not recording a video to edit and post later—he’s streaming it live to his fans right now.
“What’s up?” I say, feeling more than awkward since I’m on the video. It’s not the first time I’ve been featured on his videos—we’ve even done several “Ask my Girlfriend Q&A” videos, but they’ve always been pre-recorded so he can edit out the parts where I mess up.
“As you know, it’s my last day of school.” He looks me in the eye, so it’s easy to think we’re having this conversation alone, but we’re not. His phone is still facing us as he holds it out, keeping us in frame.
“Yeah?” I say, wishing whatever he’s doing will hurry up and be over so I can tell him about my summer school situation without the camera rolling.
“And I’m going to college in the fall.”
“I know.”
He stares at me for a long moment, and I almost wonder if he asked me some question and he’s waiting on an answer. Then he reaches up with his free hand and cups my cheek. “I can’t start off college with a girlfriend. I’m sure you understand.”
My throat goes dry. “Wait… what?”
“We’re done, babe.” Lane turns to the phone camera and winks at it. He freaking winks at it! “We had our fun but… this is a breakup video.”
Tears flood my eyes. It’s too hard to hold them back because I’ve been on the verge of crying ever since I was called to the counselor’s office. They aren’t small quiet tears either. I’m full on crying like a total idiot. Lane pats my shoulder all while keeping the camera focused on me.
“You’ll be all right,” he says, but there’s nothing consoling or friendly in his voice. He’s become the YouTube personality that everyone loves. A cocky, handsome jerk.
I’m not much for swearing, but I swear now. I tell him exactly what he can do with his stupid YouTube videos. I hate the look of satisfaction he gets at my reaction. Drama is great for viewers, after all. I turn and run down the hallway, not stopping until I’m on the sidewalk and off school property. My tears blur my vision, but I’ve walked home from school every day for three years, so I know where I’m going even if the sidewalk beneath my feet is out of focus.
The sun is shining here in Texas, and by all standards, it’s a beautiful summer day. But I can’t enjoy it. My chest is heaving from running and crying and my face is soaked. My eyes hurt. My heart hurts. Everything hurts. I walk a couple more blocks, wishing I lived closer than two miles away from the school.
As if this day couldn’t get any worse, my head starts to ache in that familiar and haunting way that tells me a migraine is coming. Great. Just great. Once a migraine hits me, I’m out for the count. They’re absolutely brutal, they happen about twice a year, and apparently they’re genetic. My mom gets them too, according to my dad. I wouldn’t know because ever since she divorced my dad, married someone new, and moved away when I was a toddler, I haven’t seen her.
I’m still a mile away from home, and pain explodes through my head. There’s no way I can make it home right now. Luckily, I’m only a few houses away from my cousin Destiny, who is also my best friend. We’re the same age, but she’s homeschooled now after getting in a little too much trouble over the years. My aunt and uncle got sick of her sneaking out to parties and getting high on campus, so they yanked her out of school last year. I’m pretty sure we wouldn’t be friends if we weren’t related because I am not into anything like that. Still, she’s always there when I need her. I text her and see if she’s home, and she’s happy to have me to come over and ride out the migraine.
Then I call my dad and tell him what’s going on.
“Is this a real migraine or are you trying to avoid talking about how you failed chemistry?” The tone of Dad’s voice tells me he thinks it’s the latter.
My teeth clench together from the pain. “Dad, I’m seriously dying here. I need to go lay down.”
“Okay,” he says and I can practically see his frown through the phone. “But if I find out you’re lying, you’ll be even more grounded than you are now. I’m working late tonight, but I’ll pick you up later.”
My cousin is rocking a pair of pink fuzzy pajamas when she opens the door. “Hey!” she says, all smiles. “It’s good to see you.”
I hung out with Destiny a lot more before I started dating Lane, but now I can’t remember the last time I came over. We text a lot but haven’t hung out much lately. I’ve been a both crappy cousin and student, it seems.
“Where’s Aunt Emma?” I ask, pressing my hands against my forehead. Destiny’s mom works from home and she’s usually the one who answers the door.
“My parents are away for the weekend. Some B&B up in Denton.” She rolls her eyes. “They’re trying to keep the romance alive.”
“Romance is stupid,” I mutter. “I’m gonna go lay down.” They have the best guest bedroom ever, complete with blackout curtains and a fluffy comfortable mattress.
“Okay.” She closes the front door behind me. “I’m having a few friends over later, but we’re just going to watch a movie, so we’ll be quiet. If you start feeling better you should join us.”
“I doubt it,” I say as I make my way down the hallway to the guest room. “But thanks for the offer.”
In the quiet room, I drop my backpack to the floor, then realize the soft buzzing sound is coming from my phone, not my ears. I retrieve it from the zippered pocket on my backpack and turn the screen brightness down as low as it gets. My migraine is in full force right now and everything makes it hurt worse.
There are thirty two new messages on my phone and a few missed calls from my friends.
It looks like Lane’s breakup video has gone viral.
Great. Just great.
Two
“Hadley.”
My head is pounding. My thoughts are foggy. Everything is… flashing red and blue? It takes me a second to realize I’m waking up. It takes me even longer to realize I’m not in my own bed. My eyes open, and I blink a few times. The walls are flashing red and blue from something in the window. My head pounds, but at least it’s not as bad as it was earlier.
“Hadley. Wake up this second!”
My stepmom Lucy’s voice shatters the last bits of sleep from my brain. I sit up, my head throbbing with the movement. “What’s going on?” I ask groggily.
“What’s going on, is that you’ve been caught,” she snaps.
“Huh?”
I look up and see Lucy standing in front of me in Destiny’s guest bedroom, her hands on her hips and that scowl of hers etched on her face. It’s dark outside, save for the red and blue lights that I now realize are coming from a cop car. My heart pounds. “Is everyone okay? What happened?”
“I think you know exactly what happened,” my dad says as he enters the room. He’s still wearing his khaki pants and dry-cleaned work shirt which means he probably hasn’t been home yet.
“Actually, I don’t know,” I say, running my hands through my hair. Beside me, my phone is blinking and lighting up with new messages.
Lucy sees me look at it and she snatches it up. “Say goodbye to your phone.”
“What, why?”
“Get up,” Dad snaps. “We’ll go over your punishment in the car. Thank God the cops aren’t going to arrest you.”
“I figured it was just a matter of time before I got a call from the police about her,” Lucy says under her breath. I scowl. I’m a good person. I have no reason to get in trouble with the cops.
In the living room, my cousin is looking extremely guilty while an officer t
alks to her. Half empty bottles of liquor and beer are on the coffee table, and there’s even an ash tray and the scent of marijuana in the air. In some states, that’s legal, but in Texas it is definitely not.
I give Destiny a WTF look as I walk past her, my dad and stepmom flanking me. She shrugs in this way that I guess is supposed to be apologetic. But she just looks annoyed, not sorry.
A few teenagers I’ve never seen before are standing in the front yard, their hands cuffed behind their back.
“I am so disappointed in you,” Dad says as he opens the backdoor of his car and waits for me to climb inside.
“Wish I could say I was surprised,” Lucy chimes in.
Dad waves at the cops and then we drive home. The short mile home takes no time at all, and soon me and my aching head are standing in our living room while my dad and stepmom glare at me.
“Care to explain yourself?” Dad says. His nostrils flare. He’s never been this mad at me before. Of course, I’ve never really been in trouble before, either.
“There’s nothing to explain…” I wince and grip my forehead. “Can I just go to bed? My head is killing me.”
“I’m sure it is,” Dad says angrily. “That’s what drugs and alcohol will do to you. You think you hurt now? It’ll be worse in the morning.”
“Dad, I didn’t do anything,” I say, wishing my head didn’t hurt so bad so I could put more conviction in my voice. “I swear. I got a migraine and just went to Destiny’s house and fell asleep.”
Lucy barks out a laugh. “How stupid do you think we are?”
“You can smell my breath if you want.” I shrug. “It won’t smell like alcohol. You can drug test me. I promise I didn’t do anything.”
