“Nonsense,” my mom cut in.
I gawked at her, but she smiled at me with a shameless look of encouragement.
“Go hang out with your friend,” she said. “Unpacking can wait. Those boxes will still be here when you get back.”
I sucked in a breath and shook my head. My mind was on Seth, and I didn’t want to be a pessimistic stick-in-the-mud. Any other day? Okay. Today I couldn’t do it. “I’ll even let you two borrow the car,” my mom said. “Case is here for the day, so it’s not like he’ll need it.” I shot her a look that read stop it, but she ignored me and moved to the hall. “I’ll get you girls the keys. Be right back.”
“Awesome! Thanks, Mrs. Collins.” Riley looked at me, excited. “Meet you outside in ten?”
“Sure,” I answered, not even bothering to sound chipper.
Riley disappeared outside, letting in the afternoon heat through the doorway. My mom returned a few seconds later, almost colliding with Case as he jumped off the bottom of the stairs.
“Point me in her direction,” Case said, smoothing his hair.
“You’re too late.” I snatched the keys from my mom and stalked up the stairs to change.
“Where did she go?!” my mom asked, turning to me.
“She’s outside,” I griped. “And congratulations on meddling mother of the year. You can expect your certificate by the end of the week.”
She frowned, her hands finding her hips. “Claire.”
“Bye, Mom.”
* * *
“We’re here!” Riley said, closing the car door. “Sorry, we stopped and grabbed Sonic.”
The smell of livestock carried on the breeze slanting the overgrown blades of grass around us. The grass scratched my bare ankles as I followed Riley across the yard. Tate stood in front of a crimson-colored barn, with white trim along the doors and a metal roof that gleamed beneath the sweltering sun. He crossed his arms as Riley stopped in front of him.
“I brought Claire,” she pointed out. “Hope that’s okay.”
His brown eyes settled on me, and he shrugged. “I’m cool with it, but I’m not the only one that matters.”
“Adam can get over it,” Riley answered. “If he doesn’t, he can leave.”
“Adam?” I repeated.
“The one and only,” Riley said, motioning at a black Chevy as it rolled through the steel gates at the front of the property. Four-door and streaked with dirt, the truck pulled up to the barn with music so loud it shook the truck from the inside out.
“Speaking of which,” Riley said. “I need to talk to him. He was supposed to let me know which players are helping with Friday’s pep rally and he didn’t.”
“He’s busy.”
“So am I.” She waited until Adam’s dark tennis shoes hit the grass, then asked, “Hey, who’s giving the pep talk at Friday’s pep rally?”
“Hey to you, too.”
He closed the door and crammed the keys in his pocket. He wore black athletic shorts, a gray Pader High practice shirt, and a matching black cap tugged so low it hit the brim of his sunglasses. His jaw clenched as his face tilted my direction.
“Thought it was the three of us,” he said, returning his attention to Riley. “What changed?”
“I was tired of being the only girl,” she answered.
He frowned. “Tate, you okay with this?”
“I don’t care either way,” Tate said. He grabbed one of the barn’s doors and tried to tug it open. When it didn’t budge, he looked at Adam, who hadn’t moved an inch. “Going to stand there and watch me do this, or you feel like making yourself useful?”
“That depends,” Adam snapped. “Are you going to pretend like you forgot to mention her being here?”
Tate straightened. “I didn’t know she was coming. Now, quit being an ass and help me with the damn door.”
I felt like the awkward duck who intruded on a planned event. “I can head out,” I said, turning toward the car. “I need to finish unpacking. Riley, can you catch a ride home with Tate?”
“No.”
Adam joined Tate at the door, still looking pissed. “It’s fine,” he grumbled. “If you leave, Riley will nag us the rest of the afternoon. Not dealing with it.”
“It’s true,” Riley agreed. “You leave, and he’ll wish you would’ve stayed.”
The barn doors slid open, and the boys stepped inside. The smell of hay filled the dry air, but I didn’t see any. There was nothing but a vacant concrete floor, lit by sunlight that streamed through the doors.
“This is where we hold parties,” Riley said, spinning a circle in the middle of the room.
“Victory parties,” Tate added.
He pulled the handle on a door at the back, and it opened onto a storage room with four-wheelers inside. They were lined up in three rows of three. Tate grabbed the keys before pointing at the corresponding vehicles.
“Helmets are one size fits all,” he said. “Don’t get on a four-wheeler without one.”
“Afraid I’ll damage my pretty face?” Adam teased.
“Afraid I’ll damage the coach’s daughter,” Tate replied. He winked at me and found the last four-wheeler in my line.
Adam pulled the shades from his eyes. He stared at me, skeptical. “Doubt she can even work one,” he said. “Collins, need a diagram and step-by-step directions on how to make it go?”
I flipped him off before I realized what I’d done.
“Someone needs to learn manners!” he said, laughing.
“Someone needs to learn to be nice,” I answered.
“Probably.” He traded his hat for a helmet and steered the vehicle toward the door. Riley followed close behind.
Tate looked at me as I mounted the four-wheeler. My hands ran across uneven rubber handles, trying to decide which of two handles was the clutch. “You can ride with Riley,” he offered, tugging a helmet over his curly hair.
“I’ve got it.” I chose a lever, and the four-wheeler thrust forward. “See. No biggie.”
“Suit yourself.”
The four-wheeler hummed to life, the sound of the engine resonating off the barn’s metal walls as I drove toward the front. Riley sat outside the doors, idling as she snapped selfies. She crammed her phone in her back pocket, then pointed at an overgrown field of grass.
A rusted gate, closed with a thick piece of chain, sat between us and the pasture. Adam had rehitched it from the inside. He was already back on his four-wheeler, jumping over mounds in the distance. Tate sped past us and unhitched the gate. Once we were through, he secured the chain and joined Adam.
Riley stared at me behind her helmet. “Think we can speed this up?” she asked. “I can stay with you, but at this rate I’ll be ninety before we make it to the jumps.”
I nodded, and she raced away, throwing up bits of grass as she crossed the field. I was stuck on turtle pace, with no idea how to change the speed. I messed with the clutch, sending the four-wheeler forward in a lurch.
“Hey!” I heard Adam yell.
I turned and spotted Adam’s four-wheeler racing toward me. When he got within a few feet, he turned his vehicle sharp, spraying mud over my helmet, shirt, shorts, and bare legs. I sat on the leather seat, drenched, as I stared at him.
“Geez, Claire. What happened to you?” he asked, coming to a stop. His whole body shook with laughter, making me want to strangle him. “Oh, wait. I know. Me.”
My hands curled around my knees, and my fingernails dug into my skin. He had to be kidding me! “Why did you throw mud on me?! This was a cute outfit!”
“It’s horse water,” Adam clarified, pulling his helmet off and resting it on his lap. He pointed at the large metal trough to our right. My stomach rolled as I took in the frothy puddle around it. “It’s not my fault you were sitting in the spray zone,” he continued. “I needed to turn, and there you were. Oops.”
“Is that what’s on me?” I asked, bile rising in my throat as a bubble popped in the mud. “Tell me you’re joki
ng. You are joking, right?”
“Nope.”
I pulled my helmet off and threw it at him. “You’re such an asshole, Adam! That’s full of bacteria and—”
“You’re covered in it?”
“Yes!” I stared at my dirty legs and cringed. “I can’t handle this. I’m going to vomit.”
“Are you serious?”
I gagged and held up a hand to halt him.
He crammed his helmet on his head and motioned toward the gate. “Ew. Do it out there. I don’t want to drive through your nastiness.”
I inhaled and slowly released my breath. “I’ll get you back,” I said. “This will bite you in the butt, and you’ll be begging for my forgiveness.”
“Really, sweetheart? I’d love to see you try.”
He sped off, and I gagged again. I didn’t know much about Pader, but I was positive about one thing. Adam Meade was a pest. Eventually, I’d squash him.
4
Revenge
“Plans for Friday?”
I glanced at Riley and crammed two oversized books in my locker. “School,” I answered. “More specifically, a test in English and a study guide for government.”
“Oh! Right. About that English test…”
I knew what she was getting at. “We can study at my house,” I volunteered. “Let me know when you want to meet. I’ll order pizza.”
“Have I said you’re the best?”
I nodded and glanced around her, catching sight of Adam as he approached his locker. He had a girl with him, poor thing. He leaned against the metal with his arms crossed, smiling at her as she talked. If he wasn’t such a dick, he would’ve been attractive. His good looks faded the moment he splattered horse water all over me.
I tossed my backpack over my shoulder and shut the locker. Adam glanced at Riley and me as we passed.
“Headed to study hall?” Riley asked, turning so she walked backward. Her eyes were on Adam as she pointed at the girl, then shook her head. “Wish I had study hall,” she continued. “Sounds fun.”
“Get the rest of your class credits this semester. They might switch your schedule after Christmas.” She was still walking backward, so I turned and walked backward, too. “Is this a new thing?” I asked. “Did I somehow miss out on a trend?”
“No,” Riley answered, frowning. “Just trying to keep Adam from going for the wrong girl yet again. Dude thinks with the wrong head, and he doesn’t get how his actions affect me. Every time he breaks a heart, the girl wants to hang out with me to get him back. I can’t do it anymore. I’m tired of avoiding half the school’s female population. That includes some pretty pissed-off cheerleaders I have to be on a team with.”
“Tell him to keep it in his pants.” I turned toward the library. “Or set him up with someone he likes. There has to be someone.”
“Adam doesn’t like anyone. That’s the problem.”
I shrugged. “Can’t change people who don’t want to be changed.”
“But what if they want to be changed and don’t know how?”
“Deep thoughts by Riley Cross,” I said. “Will think about it and get back to you.”
“Please do,” she answered, splitting off toward another hall.
The smell of aged books and lemon-scented wood polish hit me as I stepped through the library doors. Mrs. Jenkins, the librarian, stood behind her desk, fiddling with computer keys.
I took a seat at one of the tables and tossed my backpack on the ground. Adam jogged by a few seconds later, followed by the bell. He was late to ag class, but my dad’s running punishment would pale in comparison to my special treat.
“Mrs. Jenkins,” I said, moping toward her desk. “I think I forgot my government book in the bathroom. Can I go check? If someone takes it, I don’t want to have to buy the school a replacement.”
“Sure, but try not to dally.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
I grabbed my backpack and hurried through the door, stepping into the breezeway, where the aroma of greasy cafeteria food made my stomach grumble. The hall was clear, and the only noise was the clanking of spoons from the lunchroom ladies.
My time was limited, so I scuttled down the hall and quietly found the back doors. With one swift movement, I was outside and running down the sidewalk.
Humidity clung to my arms as I weaved between rows of cars. Adam’s Chevy sat in the third row. It gleamed like a ray of sunshine, freshly washed and waxed. I glanced around for any lingering students. The coast was clear. I took a breath to steady my rapid pulse, then curled my fingers around the tailgate and hoisted myself up.
With my body flush against the bed, I unzipped my bag and retrieved two tubes of shoe polish. The black one, the larger of the two, smelled like chemicals. I scrunched my nose and slunk forward, raising my hand to smear the polish against the glass. Top to bottom, side to side, the window was blacked out. Nothing could be seen in or out.
Sweat coated my neck as I hurdled the tailgate and landed on the gravel. I took another look around the parking lot, then blacked out the windows on the driver’s side. Like a ninja, I moved to the passenger side and repeated the process.
When everything, including the side mirrors, was coated in black, I slid around the trunk and scrawled #winning in white polish against Adam’s driver’s side door. My breath left me in short spurts as I ran to my car, dropped the evidence in my trunk, and hurried back into the school.
I was still hyped on adrenaline when I found Riley in the cafeteria the period after. I sat across from her and Tate, studying my chicken strips as the pair talked with the rest of the table. Adam was gone. I didn’t know if that was a good thing or a bad one.
“We need to talk about Thursday’s pregame plans,” Riley said. “We doing the usual? Burgers at Big Sal’s, then the game?”
“I’m down,” Tate agreed. “Claire, you in?”
“That’s nice of you,” I started. “But I—” A cafeteria door slammed open, and Adam stormed across the tile, his cheeks red and his jaw clenched. Oh crap.
“But you what?” Riley said.
“D-don’t eat meat.”
Adam found our table, green eyes blazing as he dropped into the chair across from me. The intensity behind his glare made me wriggle. If looks could kill, I’d be dead on the floor.
“What are you talking about?” he muttered through clenched teeth.
“Big Sal’s,” Riley answered. She bit into her pizza and shrugged. “I was asking Claire if she wanted to go with us on Thursday, but she doesn’t eat meat. Kudos to you, by the way. Tried to go vegetarian a while back, but only lasted a week. Chicken did me in.”
“Funny,” Adam stated, pointing at my food. “Claire’s eating chicken right now. Care to explain?”
Confused, I looked at Riley. “I’m a vegetarian?”
“Seems like it,” Adam answered. “Which means you won’t mind if I have a few of these.” He slid my tray across the table, offering Tate a couple of chicken strips while he finished off the rest. “Question,” he said, swallowing as he stared at me. “Someone messed with my truck.”
“That isn’t a question. Usually, questions have a question in them. Try something with who, why, or what.”
He chuckled, his senior ring catching the light as he scratched his jaw. “Okay,” he said. “What happened to my truck?”
“Oh, that? Not sure. Heard it was a girl you pissed off, but I didn’t catch her name. I’m sure there’s plenty of options.”
“You think you’re funny,” he hissed, “but I take a class with you. I recognize your handwriting.”
“No proof,” I said, smiling.
“I don’t need proof.” He leaned over the table and arched a brow. “I do find it funny, though. You can’t get my attention another way, so you have to resort to stupid little games like screwing with my truck. It’s pathetic, Collins.”
“Pathetic?” I repeated, my heart pounding out of my chest. “Hate to break it to you, but you’re nothing sp
ecial. You’re a mediocre quarterback with his head shoved so far up his ass it’s a wonder you can see a football at all. There’s tons of guys like you, Meade. I’ve seen better. I’ve dated better.”
The table grew silent, and the rest of the room followed.
“That sounds like the bitter ramblings of a lonely, unwanted girl,” Adam stated, his voice a whisper. “Have you always been like this, or is it because I hurt your feelings? Is it because you’re stuck in Pader and you hate it? Is it because my friends are the only ones who have gone out of their way to be nice to you? Or, more likely, is it because everyone likes your brother, but they don’t like you?”
My blood heated as I sat there, slack jawed at the harshness in his words. He’d picked me apart in front of the entire senior class. By the smugness on his face, he didn’t even care.
The sound of my chair sliding against the tile was deafening.
“Claire—”
I ignored Riley and stormed out of the cafeteria. My walls were cracked, and I needed to get out of the storm before Hurricane Adam rolled through and shattered my windows.
I spent the rest of the lunch period in my car. Riley was waiting for me when I got to English. She sat at her desk, her chin in her hands, as I moved through the aisle and found my seat beside her.
Adam crossed a line. No amount of talking to Riley would remedy what he broke.
When the bell rang for dismissal, I grabbed my backpack and exited the room. The trek down Senior Hall was made in record speed, and I ducked into government without stopping to drop my English books at my locker. I was first in class, so I sifted through social media while the rest of the students filed through the door. That was a mistake.
Tonight was Senior Welcome Night at Baker Heights—one of the most talked-about events of the year. The bonfire, held on the outskirts of town, was put on by Student Council and the Booster Club. All my old friends would be there; Seth would be there; and it would be plastered all over Facebook, Instagram, and Twitter like a flashing neon sign for everything I was missing.
My heart ached for company; my soul sought comfort; and I was hours away with no possibility of getting there. It was like knowing Ed Sheeran would be in town, but the tickets were sold out. I’d see the pictures everywhere, unable to rein in my jealousy. I couldn’t handle it, and the event hadn’t even happened.
Surviving Adam Meade Page 3
