Rules and Roses: Untouchable Book One

by Long, Heather

  My choice.

  Not theirs.

  I didn’t run with any one crowd. I’d avoided pigeonholing at all costs. I’d read the books and seen the movies—high school was often depicted as a nightmare gauntlet, but I hadn’t let it touch me. I had too many other things I needed to do, and I wouldn’t make the mistake of thinking high school was the rest of my life.

  A foot collided with mine. “Hey,” Bubba said, nudging me. “You’re not listening.”

  Nope. I hadn’t been. Frowning, I glanced around the table. “Sorry, thinking about the rest of my schedule. What did I miss?”

  “Frankie, I get you have better places to be and better things to do,” Archie remarked, his tone walking the line between teasing and sarcastic. “But it’s the first day of senior year. We had a deal, remember?”

  A deal?

  “College essays,” I murmured slowly. Yes, we had a deal. Of course, how could I forget? After wiping my hands on a napkin, I shifted to pull my phone out of my pocket and set it on the table.

  “Where are we applying?” Archie prodded me, his expression sober.

  “I don’t know Arch, where do you want to go to school?” Yes, now I played dumb. In 10th grade, Archie proposed the idea we should all go to the same university. Each of us had thrown out the pros of picking the same college—first of all, we’d know our roommates, provided we could get a co-ed dorm and, if not, maybe we could all rent an apartment together. Split five ways, we could save money. Then there was all the fun and the parties we could have… that was their idea, not mine. Out of state had always been primary on my list. At the time, Coop had been focused on in-state, probably UT Austin. Bubba had been eyeing potential football scholarships. Jake was going after STEM scholarships—despite his active sports life, he was into robotics and engineering just like Archie. It was why the two exceptionally different guys got along. Their interests said MIT, and so did Archie’s grades. Jake was fighting for it.

  Just like the rest of us.

  “Pfft. I asked first,” Archie retorted, pinning me with that wry dark brown stare of his. It was always odd how he could wax and wane between staring through a person like they weren’t there and staring right into a soul like he could read you like a book.

  In the early days of our acquaintance, I’d confused him. I wasn’t like everyone else, and he couldn’t predict or read me. In a way, I enjoyed the mystery. I didn’t want to be predictable.

  “I haven’t decided,” I admitted because, despite their seeming devotion to eating their way through the stack of slices each of the guys had picked, they weren’t throwing out their answers. No, they were waiting for me. “I spent my summer doing research.”

  “Weren’t you going to visit a couple of them?” Coop prodded. While I could and had avoided most of the others, Coop had been harder to shake. He lived in the same courtyard at the apartments; we saw each other all the time even when I tried to blow him off because I’d been angry. I could have yelled, I supposed. But losing my temper gained me exactly nothing, while it could cost a lot more. It was just better to avoid them and the issue. Right or wrong.

  “I was but it didn’t work out.” Not elaborating, I glanced at Bubba. “How has the scouting been going?” Junior year had been an exceptional one for the football team. They’d made it all the way to the state finals before being knocked out of contention. The rise there had netted them quite a bit of interest.

  “Maybe.” Bubba said by way of an answer then smothered a yawn. “All maybes. Why didn’t you get to go look at your schools? Weren’t you really looking forward to New England?”

  Yeah, New England where they actually had seasons. I’d been looking at Harvard—definitely beyond my price range, but there were scholarships and dreams—and fantasies. I just liked the idea of crisp fall colors, snowy winters, and actual spring.

  Texas had two seasons—summer and winter—and they often alternated days in the same week. Summer, my least favorite season, could smother me in the heat. I liked to do things outside, but I didn’t like heatstroke and, sadly, I never mastered getting a real tan. I tanned, but usually it was burnt to a crisp fading to a weak tan before I got burnt to a crisp again.

  Yes, even with sunscreen.

  “Car needed repairs,” I said by way of explanation. “Mom couldn’t take the time off work.” Not that I couldn’t have gone without Mom. My original plan had been to drive up, stay in an Airbnb I found for pretty reasonable, tour the school, and then drive back. If I slept in the car on the way there and back, with gas and the Airbnb, supplementing my meals with packed food from home, I could have done all of it for under five hundred.

  Fixing the car, however, meant using almost all of that.

  “It’s fine,” I continued. “I did the virtual tour online.” Which, while useful on an intellectual level, didn’t give me a feel for the school at all.

  “Damn. Well, did you get to UNT?” That from Jake. He was the only one I ever discussed UNT with and I kind of wished he’d kept it to himself. Coop straightened and frowned at me.

  “I thought in-state schools were off the list entirely,” Coop said, shoving his empty plate away before taking a long drink from the soda.

  I wanted out of Texas. I don’t know how many times I’d said that over the years. It was why I focused only on AP classes. They were acceptable at most universities.

  “They are,” I said with a shrug. “But I needed backup schools for the list and the counselor wouldn’t shut up about it.”

  “But UNT had a program you liked,” Jake—the traitor—pointed out. “You said they had a solid journalism school.”

  “They do,” I admitted. “I also don’t know that I’m going to down that route anymore.”

  “Since when?” Archie’s chair dropped onto all fours abruptly as he stared at me. “You wanted to be an investigative journalist.”

  No, I’d wanted to be a war correspondent. I’d romanticized the hell out of it. “Things change,” I said, spreading one hand. “It’s not important. I’ll figure it out.” Some things were too personal, and while I kind of wanted to confess all the doubts that burgeoned to the surface over the summer, wanted to vent about my frustrations with working thirty to forty hours a week while my friends goofed off—well, the people I used to think of as friends—and how Mom was so busy at work lately we had to make appointments to see each other…

  Appointments she often had to break because she was dating—again.

  Dating and not telling me about it. I got it. Mom did not have the best track record. But at least she got dates… Putting a pin in that snarky comment, I finished my second slice.

  “So, we still need to decide on our target schools,” Archie said drawing us full circle back to where they’d begun. That was the part I’d missed. “Even getting into schools in the same city would be better than being across the country from each other, right?”

  The denial glued to the tip of my tongue. The snarky comment hot on its heels collided with it and then bounced back unspoken. It was more than the weight of Archie’s stare keeping me silent. It was the silent request in his eyes. It was the same look he’d had when he walked into homeroom three years before. Don’t leave me out here alone… it seemed to request.

  Angry or not, I couldn’t abandon him. And I wasn’t angry anymore. I’d made that decision.

  Maybe it was time to start acting like it. “Harvard,” I told him, not looking away and a slow smile eased the hint of panic edging his eyes.

  “MIT,” he countered, and I nodded slowly.

  “NYU,” Coop suggested. “If we’re spitballing in the dark.”

  Jake shoved him. “Should they all be in New England? What about USC or UCLA?”

  Bubba snorted. “Do they have good engineering departments?”

  “Maybe, we’re making calls for the list. I say UCLA.” Jake shrugged.

  He wanted to go to California? They didn’t have seasons anymore than we did, at least not in the souther
n part of the state. Ugh.

  “Don’t look like that,” Coop teased. “We all get to pick.”

  “I know. Five of us. Five schools. Harvard, MIT, NYU and UCLA?” I checked the last with Jake.

  One nod. “I reserve the right to change it to USC after I Google it later.”

  A laugh worked its way around the table, and something loosened in my chest. First the coffee this morning and now the pizza—in a way, life normalized again. I’d really missed these idiots over the summer.

  “Yeah, yeah,” Archie waved him off. “Bubba, that leaves you. Where to?”

  “Stanford,” Bubba said slowly. “I’ll throw Stanford on the list.”

  Northern California. Okay. Different.

  “Great. Homework time kids,” Archie said, rubbing his hands together. “Take your school, research admission requirements, degrees, housing, and anything else you can think of. Take a glance at the other schools and see which ones fit your area of study.”

  “And if they don’t have a good program for what we want to study?” Coop asked. “It’s an automatic discard, right?”

  “We bring it up,” Jake said before Archie could answer. “We want a school that fits all of us, but we may have to make some concessions.”

  Reasonable.

  We didn’t all want to study the same things. There was a chance that the best school for me wouldn’t be the best fit for them.

  My stomach kind of bottomed out at the idea. “One thing at a time,” I said before they could begin debating it. “Research first.” Archie’s eyes grew brighter when his gaze fixed on mine. “We do the homework.” I glanced at Coop. “Then we discuss it.” Then Jake. “Figure out the pros and the cons.” And finally to Bubba. “Then we can make informed decisions on what to do next.”

  “This is why you’re the smart one,” Bubba said, his sleepy-eyed expression lighting up for the first time. “We’re doing what she said…can I come over later and you can help me pull up the stats on Stanford?”

  I groaned even if he didn’t sound altogether serious. “Sure, just bring coffee if you want me to do your homework and mine.”

  “I’ll help,” he said, grinning even as Coop glared at him. Though when I frowned, his scowl disappeared, and he slumped back in his seat.

  We only had a couple more minutes before we had to head back to school, but none of us rushed. None of us brought up the fact it was our last first day of high school ever.

  This time next year? We might very well be at one of those colleges.

  Together or not.

  * * *

  The ride back to school was slightly more comfortable, even if I was still stuck in the middle. Archie traded with Bubba and I gained a whole quarter inch of space, though neither he nor Coop seemed able to resist their seat sprawl and I semi-roasted between them.

  Jake had a reserved parking spot, so we slid right into a space not more than a hundred feet from a door to hall B. I had study hall next, so I swung by the room, checked in with the proctor and then headed to the library. After pulling the two books and checking them out for my TA period in Humanities for sixth, I found a table and got to work on my calculus homework.

  Coop and I already divvied up our project for AP Lit and he said he might drop by after school to finish. One perk of him being my partner, he was aware of my desire to get things done promptly or well ahead of time. My work schedule did not allow for procrastination, not if I wanted to still get all the hours I needed and the sleep that I unfortunately required.

  AP French included reading a book she gave us in class—ten pages a day. I snorted. I wasn’t going to read that slowly, but reading fluency in French was different than conversational French. I was really good at the latter, not so good at the former. I was kind of looking forward the challenge.

  My study hour flew by, and so did my TA for Ms. Phillips. She’d been my Humanities teacher in 9th and 10th. As her TA, all I had to do was put together some PowerPoints and help herd the kids in the right direction for study resources. Otherwise, it was like having another study hall, which worked for me.

  By the last period of the day, I kept smothering yawns as I headed for Mr. G’s room. Independent study for AP European History—I was lucky, G had said he’d proctor the class for me, if I wanted to do it. As a history nerd, I’d relished the chance and, sure, I could have gone for early release. I almost did, but then I kind of wanted to take the class, too. I caved and let desire win out over practicality just this once.

  “Heads up,” Jake said from right behind me as he reached past to catch the door and pull it out of my hands and open.

  “Hey.” What was he doing here? Of all of us, I figured Jake would have scored the early release, since he obviously didn’t take delayed start.

  He nudged me inside and then dropped his backpack onto a desk. Mr. G glanced up from his desk and grinned. “Afternoon Thing One and Thing Two.”

  I rolled my eyes. G was a great teacher—one of my favorites, if I were honest—but he’d been calling us the Things since 9th grade. “Hey Mr. G.” I glanced at Jake as he stretched, the sound of his knuckles cracked as he extended his hands over his head and his shirt rode up baring those stellar abs I hadn’t seen since the pool party.

  Not ogling Jake, I fixed my attention on Mr. G. “I picked up the optional reading and the dummies guide you recommended.” I still couldn’t get over that last part. Who used a dummies guide for class?

  “Dummies guide?” Jake frowned.

  “Yes, Mr. Benton. The dummies guide.” Mr. G held out a single sheet of paper. “Ms. Curtis—” I almost snorted at the formal names. Now he really was giving us a ration of shit. “—emailed me over the summer to prep for class, so she’s already a step ahead.”

  “Not that unusual,” Jake said in a bland tone.

  “Here are your textbooks,” Mr. G said tapping them. “They’re yours, consider them my gift to your education. And this…” He added a sheet of paper to the top of each book. I joined Jake in studying the schedule. “Is my recommended reading schedule. You need to finish the texts up to World War II for the exam, but if you can get up to the 80s, you’ll do even better on the essay portions because a lot of classes stop at World War II.”

  I nodded. It wasn’t that ambitious a reading schedule unless the text was teeny-tiny.

  “Since we’re an independent study class, you aren’t going to have homework, but there are a half-dozen documentaries you should watch. They’ll help flesh out the academic material.” He pointed to the list at the bottom of the page. “Most of them are available in the library to check out, and I think a couple are on streaming channels.”

  Jake grinned. “We can do pizza and the History channel. My kind of homework.”

  I didn’t even snicker. Jake—like me—was also a history nerd. A carefully curated secret, he’d shared it with me. We’d been known to hide out on the occasional weekend over the last few years and binge the various documentaries on the History channel. I’d seen one over the summer and went to text him a dozen times.

  Never sent a single one though.

  My bad.

  “Okay. Well, I trust you both to work it out. Meanwhile, I have copies to go make for APush. Make yourselves comfortable.” APush also known as AP US History made up three of his morning classes.

  Then G was out of the room and it was just Jake and me.

  Awkward?

  Not awkward?

  To be decided.

  Chapter Three

  Independent Study

  The silence left in Mr. G’s wake lasted all of 3.2 seconds. Jake dropped into the desk next to mine and the weight of his stare landed with a louder thud than his book. “You’ve been avoiding me.”

  “I went to lunch with you.” Playing dumb was not my forte. Giving Jake shit used to be, so splitting the difference and wading into the middle seemed to be the way to go. I twisted to open my backpack. It was a cheap move designed to net me a few seconds out from under the pal
e blue of his eyes. Of the four guys, Jake and Coop had known me the longest. They were more likely to call me on my crap, but while Coop seemed to float on a current of zen through life, Jake possessed a laser-like focus.

  His motion wasn’t dictated by a current, but by his choices. If he was in this class, it was because he wanted to be there. Independent study was absolutely voluntary. Not once since we made our class selections last spring had he mentioned pursuing this particular course of study.

  Nor had I admitted to it. I’d barely been speaking to them when final schedules came out. More, I’d actively been avoiding them. Too busy. Too much work. Finals. Homework.

  And I’d skipped the end of year bash at Archie’s with a drive to San Antonio and a weekend at Jennifer’s place. Thankfully, she hadn’t asked any questions when I’d showed up. We’d stuffed our faces with junk food, stayed up late, slept even later, and for seventy-two hours, I pretended I was a real girl.

  Then it was right back home and to work. Summer offered a lot of excuses to keep my distance from all of them—except Coop.

  With Coop, I’d had to work twice as hard to achieve only half the success. The only times I’d been unable to avoid any of them had been when they’d shown up at Mason’s—which they had most weeks, sometimes alone, often together, and far too frequently with a girl or three showing up to join them.

  “I’m not talking about today. You wouldn’t have been at lunch or there for coffee this morning if Coop hadn’t dragged you along.” Nothing in Jake’s tone suggested speculation. If anything, he sounded… almost disappointed. “Our last first day, and you would have blown us all off, just like you did this summer.”

  This again… “I went to Bubba’s birthday party.”

  “For thirty-five minutes.” Jake raised his dark eyebrows. “Tell me I’m wrong.”