“Of course,” I said quickly. “I’d love to.”
Officer Hilliard nodded. “I’m going to need you three kids to come with me.”
“Hold up,” Kyle said, “Just for the record, I didn’t do anything. I wasn’t even there. But I’ll come help”—he shot his brother a smile—”Colt’s not the only hero in the family.”
“Sounds good,” Officer Hilliard said. “More hands will make the work go faster. Follow me, please.” He spoke to my mom. “I’ll bring them back when the job’s done. Shouldn’t take more than an hour.”
She nodded. “Could I have a minute first?”
“Yes, ma’am, just send them over when you’re through.”
“I will.”
As Officer Hilliard walked away, Mom stared at the three of us, not saying a word, her face blank slate. It was impossible to tell what she was thinking. I was the first to crack under the pressure of that stare, but Colton wasn’t far behind.
“I’m so sorry, Mom,” I said. “Please don’t be mad.”
“Sadie…I’m not mad,” she said finally. “I’m just surprised. You never do anything wrong, so this is new territory for us.”
“I’m sorry,” I said again, feeling my eyes fill with unshed tears. If there was one thing I hated, it was disappointing her.
“Mrs. Day,” Colton said, “this one’s on me. Like you said, Sadie doesn’t do anything wrong. I’m the troublemaker—just ask Hilliard. I messed up and got Sadie in trouble, and I’m sorry for that.”
Mom looked to Colton. “According to my daughter, you also gave her one of the best nights of her life. She told me everything.”
Colton looked to me. “She did?”
“Yes,” Mom said, “and you’re not a troublemaker, Colton. You made a mistake, and we all do that. Lord knows, I’ve made a ton of them. Next time, just tell Sadie all the facts and let her decide what she wants to do.”
“I’ll do that,” he said, putting his hands into his pockets. “Thanks, Mrs. Day.”
Mom’s gaze met mine.
“Okay then,” she said as if she’d decided something. “Okay. Sadie, since this is your first time getting into any sort of trouble and you appear to be sincerely repentant, I don’t see any need for more punishment.”
“You don’t?” I said.
She shook her head. “You’re going to have to clean up the mess you made at the principal’s house—which you volunteered to do in the first place. I think you’ve learned your lesson.”
I threw my arms around her, burying my head in her neck. “Thank you so much, Mom. I love you.”
“I love you, too, baby,” she said and hugged me back. “Promise me I won’t see you riding in the back of any more police cars.”
“Promise,” I said.
We walked to the curb in a silent row. Officer Hilliard was waiting and had opened the door for us. Colton looked resigned, and Kyle looked stunned as we piled into the police car.
“Someone tell me how I got roped into this again?” Kyle asked.
“You’re my best friend,” I said, ducking into the car after Colton, ending up in the middle seat between him and Kyle. The police car was compact and the metal cage separating the front from the backseats reminded me of all those Blue Bloods re-runs I used to watch. “We stick together through thick and thin.”
“And toilet paper,” Kyle mumbled.
As Officer Hilliard closed the door, Colton let his head fall back on the seat, closed his eyes and chuckled.
“What?” I asked.
“I still can’t believe you left Principal Wexler a thank you note,” Colton said.
“I didn’t know what we were doing was illegal.”
He opened one eye to look at me. “Fun illegal or bad illegal?”
I rolled my eyes as he chuckled again, and Officer Hilliard got in on the driver’s side, started the car. We pulled away from my house, began the drive to Principal Wexler’s. Things were quiet in the car for several minutes until Colton broke the silence.
“For real though, Sadie, I’m sorry,” Colton said. “For not telling you—”
“It’s okay,” I cut in. He didn’t need to apologize again. “Honestly? Besides wishing Principal Wexler would’ve been in on the prank, I wouldn’t change last night for anything.”
Kyle glanced at me. “Well, I would. I wouldn’t have left a signed note, pointing the finger at myself. That’s just crazy.”
Colton grinned at that. “No, that’s something only Sadie would do.”
“Agreed,” Kyle laughed.
Officer Hilliard was silent during the drive, but every now and then he would adjust the rearview mirror. He couldn’t seem to stop glancing at the brothers and shaking his head.
“There something on your mind, Hilliard?” Colton asked.
“I just can’t believe there are two of you,” the officer said. “I may have to start pulling double shifts. How do people even tell the difference?”
“I’m the good-looking one,” Kyle said with a smile.
“And I’m the better-looking one,” Colton said.
Officer Hilliard scoffed, used the mirror again to look from one brother to the other. After a moment, he clucked his tongue.
“Twins,” he said. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. You look the same to me.”
“Don’t feel bad,” Kyle said. “Hardly no one can tell us apart.”
“Yeah,” Colton said. “That’s why they call it identical.”
Officer Hilliard addressed me next. “What do you think, Miss Day?”
I shrugged. “I don’t have trouble telling them apart.”
What I thought was this: Kyle and Colton, though twins, couldn’t be more different if they tried. It was nothing specific, just an expression here or there, a way of moving, talking, personality. Without his piercings, Colton and Kyle really were identical, but even when we were kids, I’d always been able to tell the difference. Always.
Turns out cleaning up after a prank wasn’t nearly as exciting as the prank itself.
It took us 45 minutes to de-TP the principal’s yard. It would’ve been less, but Kyle and Colton thought it’d be fun to have a snowball fight with the toilet paper. Boys. Ugh. Thank goodness, Principal Wexler was so cool about the whole thing. He’d watched as we cleaned, talking with Officer Hilliard the whole time, and when I apologized, he said in his Southern drawl, “No harm done, Sadie. You’re a good girl, always have been. Me and my wife had a good laugh about that letter of yours.”
I was never going to live that one down.
And as far as the “good girl” part went?
Well, I was working on it.
I was currently at Corner Street Ballroom, sitting in one of the foldout chairs, taking a break from my practice with Tim. My old dance partner was just as excited about performing tonight as I was. We’d needed the practice, but after an hour, our routine was looking good.
I took a sip of water and opened my Carpe Diem List, took out a pen to do what was becoming one of my favorite things.
Marking off the items on my list.
6) See the inside of a police car.
Been there done that. I couldn’t remember why I’d even added it in the first place. Moving farther down, I went ahead and marked off another.
21) Learn how to make pancakes.
I closed my eyes, remembering how awesome it had been making pancakes with the guys, how unexpected it was to see Colton on my doorstep. At the time, I’d thought it was incredibly thoughtful—until I remembered it was for a bet. Still…Colton really was a great coach, I thought, skimming my list again. It was the end of the first week, and we’d already done almost half the items. Just like he’d said in the library.
Before our kiss.
Which was for the bet.
The memory of which shouldn’t make my chest clench like it was doing right now.
I sighed, tucking my list away, as Tim came back into the room and took a seat.
“Now, that sounds like love to me,” Tim said, throwing an arm around my shoulders. “What’s been going on since I last saw you, Sadie? Don’t be shy. Tell Big Tim all about it.”
“Love?” I scoffed before resting my head against his shoulder. I’d been 11, and he was 12 when we found each other. Though he’d lived an hour away, we had paired up and competed for years before he graduated last year and retired from the sport of competitive ballroom to pursue a degree in computer science. We hadn’t seen each other in a while, but talking to him was easy, a much-needed release. “Yeah, right. You know my situation, Tim. Unrequited love is the name of the game for this girl.”
Tim smoothed my hair until it wasn’t in his face then settled his arm more fully around me.
“So, this is about Kyle?” he asked.
I laughed. “Funnily enough, no. It’s actually about his brother.”
“Brother?” Tim asked, instantly becoming alert. “You never mentioned a brother.”
“A twin actually,” I said.
“So, he’s hot, too?”
“Oh yeah.”
“Hmm,” he said, sounding thoughtful. “I say your unrequited love has lasted long enough. I’ve never actually met Kyle—or his twin—but if he doesn’t appreciate your wonderful self, perhaps it’s time to move on.” Tim bounced his eyebrows. “Maybe to his equally hot brother.”
I shrugged. “I’m not interested in Colton. I love Kyle. Always have.”
Tim gave me a long look, and I lifted my head. “Are you sure?”
“Yes,” I said, rolling my eyes. “I love Kyle.”
“Why?” he asked.
“What kind of question is that?”
“If you love him, it’s an easy one.”
I blinked, not believing he’d had the audacity to ask me this.
“Well?” Tim said.
“Kyle is…nice and well-mannered,” I said. “He’s loyal, easy to be around, makes me laugh.”
Tim nodded. “Excellent qualities. You could also attribute them to a favorite pet, but who cares, right?”
My jaw dropped. “I can’t believe you. Kyle’s my best friend, not a puppy. Although, puppies are perfect in every way. They literally make people less stressed and happier. It’s a scientifically proven fact.”
“I’m not even going to touch that about the puppies,” he said. “I’ve always said you watch way too many of those dog videos online.”
I crossed my arms. “They’re therapeutic. And you know what, I’ve always said you take way too much time on your hair. I mean, an hour Tim? Really?”
“It needs time to breathe and set up.”
“But an hour?”
“Perfection takes time.” Tim rolled his eyes. “Anyway, back to the point. How does Kyle make you feel?”
“What do you mean?”
“When he looks at you, does your heart feel like it’s about to leap out of your chest?” Tim gripped my shoulders, hands gentle but firm. “When he touches you, do you feel like you’re burning on the inside? Whenever you see him, do you just want to walk up to him and kiss his face off?”
I laughed out loud at that, couldn’t help it. “Kiss his face off? Now, that’s romantic.”
“Whatever. Does Kyle make you feel that way? It’s a simple question, Sadie.”
I thought about it and my laughter stopped as quickly as it had started. If I was being honest, I couldn’t say yes to his questions. I wasn’t sure if I’d ever felt those things about Kyle. We’d always had more of a warm relationship, comforting and safe like a soft blanket, familiar like slipping into your favorite sweater. It wasn’t the burning Tim described, but…
“I love him, Tim,” I said with conviction. “I do.”
“Okay, if you say so.” Tim’s tone was skeptical as he began examining his nails, and I nearly growled. Why wasn’t he listening? “I just thought Colton would be a better option. Help you get over the other brother, give your love life a pick-me-up.”
“Hate to burst your imaginary bubble, but Colton doesn’t want me either.”
“He’s a moron then,” Tim said, looking me straight in the eye. “They both are.”
“Not morons,” I sighed. “Just not interested.”
I’d never told anyone Kyle’s secret, so Tim had no idea that Kyle, being gay, could never be interested in me in a romantic way. Even if he was straight, let’s face it. Chances were good that he still wouldn’t be into me. Take Colton, for example. He was straight as a freaking arrow.
“Enough about me,” I said, needing a change of subject. “How’s Little Tim? Is the gaming industry clamoring for you guys yet? Because they should be.”
“Ah, Little Tim.” He smiled like he did whenever he talked about his long-time boyfriend/soulmate. “He’s amazing, as usual, told me to tell you ‘hello.’ The guy can’t do his laundry to save his life, but I don’t know what I’d do without him.”
“Sounds like you guys are happy,” I said.
“We are, Sadie.” Tim’s smile turned sly like he had a secret. “And you’ll be happy to know that, as of yesterday, we’re in talks with a company who’s interested in one of our games.”
“Oh my gosh! Which one?”
“Just a little game called ‘Her Majesty’s Revenge.’” Tim laughed as I gasped and hugged him, surprised and elated. “Yes, your idea, sweetie. It drew their attention.”
“Wow, that’s awesome, Tim! Congratulations!”
“Thanks,” he said, hugging me back. “Speaking of ideas, you still trying to get your dance videos out there?”
“Yeah,” I said, “but the rejections are piling up.”
“Stuck-up charlatans.” Tim frowned as we pulled away. “If you had more followers, your dances would’ve already been picked. It’s about who you know, Sadie, how many likes and views you get. Dancer’s Edge likes to take people who make it big on their own and then pretend they ‘discovered’ them first. Such a scam.”
“I’m trying a new tango piece this time,” I said, cutting in. Tim had no love for Dancer’s Edge. In addition to seeing how devastated I’d been when the rejections first started rolling in, Tim was a believer in free internet and open sourcing, and he’d never been a fan of big business. “It’s different than my usual pieces, more risqué. I’d need two guys and a girl, but I have a really good feeling about this one.”
“A little tango never hurt nobody,” he said and smiled. “Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help. As a lowly game designer/college student, you know I love sticking it to the man.”
“Will do,” I said back.
“Have you decided where you’re going for college yet?”
“Not yet.”
“Well, you better hurry, girl. Time’s a ticking.”
I tried to keep my smile just as bright. I hated that question, hated how it made me feel like such a loser for not knowing where I was going in life. Whenever someone asked me that, a spike of fear rose up inside my chest.
Shaking it off, I said, “We should run the dance a few more times so we’re ready for tonight.”
“Sure.” Cutting me a challenging glance, he added, “I wasn’t going to say anything, but you were a little rusty.”
“Ha,” I said, “you’re the one who’s rusty, college boy.”
“We’ll see about that.”
The nerves were new.
Performing in front of people had never been a problem for me. I’d grown up dancing, doing choreography that I’d run a hundred times, getting lost in the music, feeding off the energy of the crowd. It was what I loved. That’s why I’d been doing it for years. Tonight, though, I didn’t know why, but I was feeling nervous.
It could’ve been that crack Tim made about me being “rusty.”
Total crap, of course.
I was at the top of my game. He was the one who’d struggled at first—which was understandable since he’d been gaming more than practicing his closed hold and gauchos. Still, we’d always moved well together a
nd were more than ready for this.
It could’ve been that I hadn’t performed in a few months.
My focus lately had been more on choreography. But again, it was old hat. I knew how to work a crowd, and the Shady Grove residents loved this kind of thing. Twelve of them had shown up to watch us perform. Tim and I were filling in for my parents, who’d arranged the whole thing but had ended up having to miss it because they’d been called up to judge a ballroom competition a few towns away. Betty and Cora, my #1 fans, were catcalling from the front-and-center seats they’d managed to grab.
So, lack of support wasn’t a problem.
Then there was the fact that Kyle and Colton had walked in a minute ago.
I guessed it could’ve been that.
My stomach clenched as they started walking my way, and I thought, yep. The nervous, nauseous feeling twisting my stomach up in knots? Totally because of their presence. I should’ve expected this. Although Kyle was my best friend, he’d never seen me dance live, let alone Colton. I’d kept this part of myself separate from the rest of my life. Dance was like my secret. I could be anyone I wanted during those few minutes. I felt every emotion and lived it on the dance floor. Besides competitions (which were with fellow dancers) and dancing at the studio (which again was with people who took dance), my videos for Dancer’s Edge had been my only effort to put my dancing out there. Ballroom and my real life had been two mutually exclusive entities—until tonight.
My stomach gave another roll, and sensing my unease, Tim turned to me, rested a hand on my back.
“Hey Sadie, you okay?” he asked.
The twins stopped in front of us, then Kyle let out a low whistle.
“Dang Sadie, that sweet-heart neckline and those heels?” he said. “Perfection.”
“Thanks, Kyle,” I said.
“Seriously, the dress is gorgeous. Red was always your color—but why do you look like you’re going to be sick?”
“I’m fine,” I mumbled, but to be honest, my attention was elsewhere.
The Good Girl's Guide to Being Bad Page 13
