Wylder finally turned to her. “If you say the word so one more time, I’m going to punt your little valley girl butt across this stadium. Now, I’ve asked you nicely to leave me alone, even using the word please when I really just wanted to say something a lot less pleasant. I will not reveal all of Logan Cook’s secrets to an annoying stranger who can then go sell them to the media that is tearing him apart right now. So, can I go back to watching my friend play hockey now?”
Her mouth opened and closed like a fish before she shot to her feet and practically ran from Wylder’s presence.
Wylder sighed. “Was that mean?”
“Yes.” Diego wouldn’t lie to her. “But also kind of awesome. If Logan knew how you defended him, maybe he’d text you back.”
Diego didn’t get how much his words hurt her. Logan should want to talk to her because they’d become friends—she’d thought—because for a while, it had been the two of them against the world. And now, when he needed her most, all she could do was yell at Barbies who thought they deserved his truths.
A horn sounded, and the teams left the ice for intermission. No one else approached Wylder, and she wondered how many people heard everything she’d said.
Glancing back over her shoulder, she caught the woman whispering with her friends. She looked to be in college, maybe a Defiance University student. The academy had a better hockey team than the college, so it drew all sorts of people.
Guilt gnawed at her. Even when she’d pushed everyone away, Wylder never considered herself to be mean. Sarcastic, yes, but never cruel.
With a sigh, she stood and turned to look past the two rows separating them. “Hey.”
The woman looked up, her eyes now guarded. “What? Got something else to say?”
“Yeah, I just… I’m sorry. And…” Man, this hurt. “Thanks for liking my song.” A song Wylder hadn’t listened to since Logan left.
She needed to hit something. Her drums were preferable to this girl’s face.
The woman considered Wylder for a moment before nodding and returning her attention to her friends.
Wylder turned back around in her seat and blew out a breath.
Diego bumped her shoulder with his. “That was nice.”
“Who would have thought I, Wylder Anderson, had any nice in me?”
“Me.” He shrugged.
She stifled a smile, wondering how she managed to capture a friend like Diego, capture being the operative word, because she was never letting him go.
And still, he wasn’t Logan. Diego and Killian and Becks and others loved her. They called her talented and had faith she could do whatever she wanted.
But Logan… he didn’t only have faith, he pushed her just like she pushed him. They weren’t passive friends believing in each other and being proud but watching from the sidelines.
He’d stood up there with her, giving her strength, and reminding her she wasn’t ever in this alone.
“D.” She wiped her eyes. “I’m going to go.”
“But there’s still one more inning.”
“Period.” She did know that one. Diego did too, but he still slipped up. “I know, but I need to get out of here.”
“Want me to come?”
She loved him for offering. Putting a hand on his shoulder, she smiled. “No. Stay and watch Killer. I’ll be okay.”
Those words echoed in her mind as she climbed the steps to the main concourse and made her way through the double glass doors into the bright fall day.
I’ll be okay.
And she would.
Wylder was always okay.
But as tears stung her eyes, the knowledge wasn’t enough to make them disappear.
2
If anyone had told Wylder the first day of class that she’d miss having Sebastian as a teacher when he was gone, she’d have rolled her eyes, because they obviously didn’t know her well.
To say it was less than ideal to stare at her ex every day, knowing if their secret got out it would be the end of both their lives—dramatic? Yes—would have been an understatement. Yet, as Mr. Carlisle droned on and on about Beowulf in a monotone voice, she missed Sebastian’s excitement, the way he’d thrown out their usual syllabus to have them read books they actually wanted to read.
Beowulf? Not one of them. It was from the summer reading list, and Wylder hadn’t made it very far. The story wasn’t bad, but the writing was a snoozefest. It had no importance in today’s world.
That was what she missed the most. Sebastian used books to teach them about the world.
Mr. Carlisle used them to teach the class about literature, nothing else.
This was the first year Wylder felt like she didn’t have to be a bad student. Whatever happened between them, Sebastian was the first teacher to truly think Wylder could do better. He didn’t accept her poor grades as a lack of knowledge, only a lack of drive.
And he hadn’t let her get away with it.
Resting her chin on her arms, Wylder tried to focus on Mr. Carlisle’s words, but all she saw was his little goatee with a piece of food stuck to the hairs. He wiped ridiculously small glasses on his shirt before returning them to his nose and stood, a stack of papers in hand.
“Diego, would you pass these out?”
Diego dropped a packet on Wylder’s head. She sat up straighter, and the papers slid off, but she caught them before they hit the ground. “A study guide?”
Mr. Carlisle crossed his arms. “I am only your substitute until Mr. Cook returns, if that happens, but he has this class behind on the required reading and testing. I plan to catch us up. Our Beowulf test is on Friday. I expect excellence from students at Defiance Academy. Anything below a C plus will be considered a failing grade.”
He turned to his desk to check the time on his phone. As if on cue, the bell rang.
Wylder groaned as she slid the study guide into her bag. This test was going to be a nightmare.
Diego hadn’t moved as he leafed through the packet, his eyes widening. “How does he expect us to know all of this when we haven’t covered it in class?”
“You’ll be fine, Diego. You know everything.”
He lifted panicked eyes to hers. “Wylds.”
She’d never seen Diego worry about school before. He was the smartest person she knew. “We’ll study together and get Devyn to help.”
Devyn stopped at the edge of her desk. “I was actually going to ask if Diego could help me. This study guide is intimidating.”
“We’re all going to fail.” Diego buried his face in his hands.
“No.” Wylder stood and ruffled his hair. Diego wouldn’t fail anything. “It’ll be okay. You’ll see.”
Devyn pursed her lips. “I honestly don’t know who cares about some ancient story. If he wanted to pick a book from our summer reading, he could have at least chosen Gatsby.” She sighed. “Wylder, when is Mr. Cook coming back?”
“What?” Wylder’s face reddened. “Why would I know that? I don’t know Se—Mr. Cook any more than you or Diego. Honestly, Devyn, you’re talking crazy.”
Devyn cocked her head, giving Wylder a strange look. “Um… I figured you’d talked to Logan since you guys are like frenemies or something.”
“Oh, right.” Wylder was an idiot. “I haven’t talked to Logan, but I need to get to music.” Contemporary Music class without Logan. It never got easier. She scooted past Devyn and made it to the door before Mr. Carlisle called her back.
“Miss Anderson? A word.”
She rolled her eyes, straightening her shoulders as she turned to him. “Yes, sir?”
“I know Mr. Cook took a special interest in you.”
She hiked her bag higher on her shoulder. “Not more than anyone else.”
“His notes say differently. He gave you chances to improve test grades, mused if you’d need extensions. Your name comes up quite a bit.”
“Is there a purpose to this chat?” She really didn’t want to talk about Sebastian, not with this man.
He rubbed his goatee. “I’d study for this test if I were you. Your easy ride is at an end while I am here.”
Wylder had to hold in the words she really wanted to say to him. “Yes, sir.”
“I am not as easily impressed as your classmates with light shows and music. Academics are what will shape your future, not frivolous musical pursuits.”
So, he’d seen the video. Her jaw clenched as she fought the urge to clock him. “Sure, Mr. Carlisle. Tell that to my brother.” Without another word, she turned on her heel and stormed from the classroom.
Diego waited in the hall. He pushed off the wall to match her stride. “What did he want?”
“Just to tell me how useless I am.”
Killian jogged toward them, sliding an arm over Diego’s shoulders and stealing a kiss before shooting Wylder a grin. “Someone looks murderous.”
Students gawked as Wylder walked down the hall—just as they’d done for weeks. At least the underclassman didn’t know her. It irritated her more when her own classmates, the people who’d scorned her for the last year, looked at her like she was a celebrity.
Celebrities weren’t new to the academy. Most of the students had well-known parents. It was why they were there. But this was different.
“What are you looking at?” Wylder scowled at a freshman boy who scurried out of her way.
Beside her, Killian chuckled. “They love you.”
“They don’t know me.”
“So? Do Beckett’s fans know him?”
“No, if they did, they’d probably think he was an idiot.” Because he was kind of a goof. But it was one of the many reasons she loved him.
Killian grinned, and she wanted to wipe the smug look off his face.
“You could at least try to look like you’re not enjoying this.” She reached across Diego to push him.
“But, Wylds, that would be a very, very big lie. It’s your fifteen minutes.”
“I never wanted fifteen minutes.” She’d just wanted to fly under the radar.
“I don’t think that matters. Face it, you’re popular now.”
She ceased walking completely and yanked her friends to a stop. “You take that back.”
He chuckled and danced out of range of any more biting words. “What was that? Sorry, Wylds, I need to get to class.”
“But you have independent study right now!”
He shot her a wink and practically sprinted away. The traitor.
Even Diego laughed. “He’s not wrong.”
“Don’t.” She shook her head. “I am not popular.” She walked away from him, heading toward the classroom down the next hall.
Eyes followed her every move, and she tried to ignore them. Yet, she couldn’t stop her skin from crawling at the attention. “I’m not popular,” she muttered to herself as she slipped into the classroom. Wylder Anderson didn’t do popularity.
She pulled out her phone, sending another text to Logan that she knew would go unanswered.
Wylder: How do you deal with the staring?
Wearing his famous brother’s face, it was a daily thing for him. But he’d have no advice for his supposed friend, no words of encouragement.
Mrs. Shepherd stood at the front of the room with a warm smile. “Hello, class! We’re working with our partners today, going over music industry contracts. There are some snags—if you will—in the contracts, items any musician should want to be removed. It’s your job to find them.” She set a contract on Wylder’s desk.
It wasn’t the first time they’d had partner projects since Logan left, but Wylder preferred to work alone rather than join another group. She glanced at Logan’s empty seat with a sigh and got to work.
“Wylder,” Devyn called. “We’re going to dinner.”
“Not hungry,” she shot back.
Devyn appeared in the doorway a moment later. “You’re always hungry.”
“Am not.”
She rolled her eyes and left.
Wylder crawled onto her bed with her laptop and lay on her stomach to get her Google on. She’d tried to avoid searching for information on Logan too much with him gone. She wanted to forget about him. It was what he deserved.
And what did she deserve? People who wouldn’t leave her behind? Friends who didn’t ignore all her calls and texts?
She was worried about him, and he didn’t care.
The first thing that pulled up was their YouTube video, so she did the one thing she swore she’d never do. She clicked the link and scrolled to the comments. The first few were positive about how much they loved the song.
There were some negative ones, but she didn’t care about those.
Scrolling down, she reached a comment from someone saying it wasn’t Logan on stage with her. That the reason he sounded so much like Luke was because Luke had switched places with his brother to help with his project. Plausible. Also wrong.
She’d heard that rumor around school, and it irritated her. Logan worked hard for their performance. He should get all the credit.
She was too engrossed in her computer to notice anyone entering her room. It wasn’t until Killian jumped onto the bed that she saw him. “Hey!” She reached out to protect her computer. “Aren’t you supposed to be at dinner?”
Diego perched on the corner of her bed, and Devyn leaned against the doorframe.
“Brought you food.” Killian grinned as he gestured to the extra plate Diego carried. Pizza, They’d brought her pizza from the dining hall. These boys sure knew the way to her heart.
Killian sat up with his own plate and took a bite.
Wylder accepted hers from Diego, but she didn’t eat it yet. “Why are you here?”
“Whe es wud e be?” Killian’s words were unintelligible through a mouthful of food.
Diego smiled affectionately. “I think he means where else would we be.”
“What are you doing?” Devyn set her plate on the dresser and sat next to Wylder to look at the computer.
Wylder sighed. “Looking for information on Logan.”
Killian winced, and Wylder’s eyes narrowed. “What?”
“I… uh… sort of heard from him today.”
That shouldn’t have hurt like it did. “What did he say?”
“Just that he was lying low at his brother’s place in Nashville.”
“That’s it?” She shut her laptop. “Did he say why he won’t talk to me?”
Killian shook his head.
“Maybe he associates you with what happened?” Diego shrugged. “Like you were responsible for making him get on stage.”
“You’re saying he blames me?”
“Diego,” Killian snapped. “Remember our talk of not just saying whatever comes to mind? This is one of those times.”
“No.” Diego straightened. “Wylder deserves to know all the possibilities. I won’t baby her. She’s stronger than that, Killian.”
“He’s right.” Devyn’s voice was small as she regarded Killian. “We don’t need to protect Wylder. She can handle anything. You shouldn’t be hiding Logan’s messages from her. Diego shouldn’t be watching his words. And I won’t keep quiet when I think she needs to forget about him.”
Wylder closed her eyes and released a breath. Devyn and Diego were right. She could handle another person leaving her. She could handle anything.
But that didn’t mean she had to accept it.
She needed a plan.
3
Wylder had a plan. She did. Not that said plan was a good one, or even fully formulated for that matter. She stared at her last text message to Logan, willing him to respond.
Wylder: So help me, Logan Samwise Cook, you won’t like what happens next if you don’t answer me this instant.
Crickets. That was his response. Nothing. And now she had to follow through with her threat.
“Miss Anderson, I expect my students to pay attention,” Mr. Carlisle called her out again. He seemed to get a kick out of humiliating her. “Mr. Cook mi
ght have fallen for your ridiculous and convoluted essays, but I won’t, and neither will your future college professors.”
“Ha,” Wylder let out a bark of laughter. Like she was going to college. That was never in her future, though, at a school like Defiance Academy, everyone around her was college-bound.
“What was that, Miss Anderson?”
“Nothing, sir,” she muttered under her breath.
“Then do you care to venture an answer to my question?”
“Sure.” Wylder sat up straighter. “Care to ask it again since I missed it the first time?”
“If you have any hope of passing my class, then you’d better start paying attention.”
“But it isn’t, is it? Your class, I mean. It’s Mr. Cook’s.” It was a true measure of how much she disliked this guy that she was suddenly so protective of Sebastian’s domain.
“While I am here, it is my class. Now, do you have an answer, or shall we move on?”
“Ask your question, please, sir… teacher-man.” She attempted a respectful tone.
“It’s Mr. Carlisle. I suggest you commit it to memory for the foreseeable future. Now, can you please tell us—if you can—what methods Mr. Fitzgerald uses to describe East Egg and West Egg as symbols of old money versus new money?”
They’d moved on from Beowulf after a horrendous test Wylder was certain she’d failed miserably. Now they were on to something Wylder had actually read and understood. The Great Gatsby. “Adverbs and adjectives ad nauseam,” Wylder replied.
“Not quite the answer I was looking for.” The teacher turned his attention onto new prey. “Devyn, would you take the lead on this one, please?”
“I wasn’t done,” Wylder said.
Mr. Carlisle turned back toward her. Removing his glasses, he rubbed a tired hand over his eyes. “If you have something useful to add, please go on. If not, please stop wasting our time.”
Wylder cleared her throat. “In the opening chapters of Gatsby, Fitzgerald uses every opportunity to describe East and West Egg—and you’d think he could have come up with better names than eggs for these places—to show the reader how the communities differ. West Egg is all new and working hard to impress anyone who’ll notice. It’s not nearly as fashionable as East Egg. That’s the place you really want to be, but they don’t let just anyone in. West Egg is where all the people with new money live. And East Egg is described as old and time honored with glittering family mansions steeped in long family heritages and dripping with old money. Fitzy’s every description suggests East Egg is the place to be. Only the poised and charming Daisy could call a place such as that home, while those from West Egg could never hope to attain everything she embodies. Daisy is the personification of East Egg.” Wylder picked at her green nail polish, refusing to give the substitute teacher her full attention. “Really, it’s all sort of like how you look down your nose at me, the Twin Rivers High riffraff, here at this school because my brother has new money, while some of the old names—the legacy students if you will—get your attention as well as your respect. Twin Rivers is West Egg and Riverpass is East Egg.”
Wylder and the Almost Rockstar (Reluctant Rockstars Book 2) Page 2
