The Good Girl & the Bad Boy: A Sweet YA Romance (Jackson High Series Book 2)

by M. L. Collins

  The Good Girl & the Bad Boy

  A Jackson High Novel

  M.L. Collins

  The Good Girl & the Bad Boy

  Copyright © 2020 by M.L. Collins

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, businesses, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Editing by K&T Editing

  Cover Design by NPTB Creatives

  Made in the United States of America

  Find out about M.L.’s newest releases!

  Sign up for M.L. Collins’s Newsletter!

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  1. Nobody Told Me Life Would Be Fair

  2. It’s Not You, It’s Me

  3. It Wasn’t a Squirrel

  4. What Did You Just Do?

  5. Wax On, Wax Off

  6. Crossed With the Wrong Girl

  7. One Taco Short of a Combination Plate

  8. NOT a Card Carrying Member of the Grady Burnett Fan Club

  9. It Feels Good To Be Bad

  10. Eyes Open or Closed?

  11. Flagrant Foul (What the Frick, Chad?)

  12. Sasquatch Eating a Snow Cone

  13. Saturday Detention (Again)

  14. You Can’t Complain If Things Get Dicey

  15. All it Took Was A Push

  16. If It Will Help, My Answer’s Going to Be “Yes”

  17. Who Are You Calling? The Fun Police?

  18. The Kolache Queen @ Bowl-O-Rama

  19. Twin Swap (Come On, You Knew It Had To Happen)

  20. WWTD: What Would Tracey Do?

  21. If Mozart Played the Electric Guitar

  22. Bad To The Bone

  23. Perfect? That Ship Has Sailed

  24. Breathing Into a Paper Bag

  25. Confess To a Life of Crime

  26. Good Idea or the Stupidest Idea Ever?

  27. You’re a Jerk, You Know That, Right?

  28. Shut It Down

  29. You, But With A More Colorful Wardrobe

  30. How Fast Can You Run?

  31. My Worst Nightmare

  32. So Bad It Was Good

  33. I Have Big Dreams & I Cannot Lie

  34. If Wishes Were Fishes

  Epilogue

  Also in the Jackson High Series:

  A Note From M.L.

  Huge Thanks To…

  About the Author

  1

  Nobody Told Me Life Would Be Fair

  Lacey

  “Burnett? Burnett?” Mr. Garrison called from his desk.

  No one even looked around the classroom, although someone in the back row snickered. I didn’t snicker.

  “No Grady Burnett? Again?” Mr. G frowned and made a notation on his roll sheet while he mumbled about the joy Mr. Burnett would have sitting in detention.

  I heard him from my front row seat even though I was concentrating on holding back the eye roll my brain was doing. Everyone in the Jackson High senior class knew Grady rarely made it to first period on time. If he made it at all. He was the epitome of “too cool for school.” Well, lots of kids at school—girls especially—thought Grady was cool. I wasn’t one of them. I guess the nicest way to put it was I wasn’t a card-carrying member of the Grady Burnett Fan Club. And he did have a fan club.

  “Pretty sure Grady’s a vampire. He can’t be out much during daylight hours,” Josh Radnor called out from two seats behind me.

  “Forget Team Edward and Team Jacob.” Gwen Itzlrab giggled from the back corner. “I’m Team Grady, all the way.”

  “Right?” Jody Ball released a sigh full of unfettered awe. “I’d let that boy make me a vampire any day of the week.”

  “Jody, we’ve discussed this. I have dibs,” Gwen warned. “Besides, I have a nicer neck. See how you can see my veins?”

  Cheese. And. Crackers. They were talking like he was an actual vampire. Some days Gwen made me wonder about the future of the human race, but then I’d realize that wasn’t a nice thought on my part. I tried to live by Mr. Rogers’ motto: “Find something good in everyone you meet.” Good thing Gwen was… She was… That is to say, she has… Huh. So, I hadn’t come up with something good about Gwen yet. But I’d keep trying.

  “That’s enough, ladies,” Mr. G said, sliding from behind his desk to stand in front of the long whiteboard which took up most of the front wall. “As you all know, the senior journalism class is responsible for our school newspaper, the Jackson Journal. We’ve spent the first few weeks of this semester learning about the departments and positions at a newspaper. It’s time to assign jobs.

  “Think about what part of journalism piques your interest. Challenge yourselves. Volunteer for a job a bit outside your comfort zone. Keep in mind, not only will you have this job all semester…there are no quizzes and tests in here. Your grade is solely dependent on how you perform your job.”

  He assigned a photographer, editors, and a couple students to handle production and layout. Next came the reporting assignments for the headline news column, the faculty spotlight column, and the community connection column.

  “I’ll take sports reporter,” Josh called out.

  “You’re on the football team, is that right, Mr. Radnor?” Mr. G peered over his glasses at him.

  “Yes, sir. And lacrosse. I know everything there is to know about sports.”

  “I’m sure you do. That’s why I’m giving you the food column.” He wrote Josh’s name and assignment on the whiteboard in bold black letters.

  “But—”

  “Would you rather take the fashion and style column, Mr. Radnor?” Oooh, Mr. G was good.

  “No, sir,” Josh said.

  I raised my hand. “I’ll volunteer for the fashion and style column.” I put a lot of effort into looking majorly cute and pulled together for school every day. So, maybe it wasn’t outside my comfort zone, but I did it on a budget. I knew all the cool second-hand stores in town which might be helpful to other students.

  Mr. G lowered his glasses and gave my outfit—a super cute pink romper with a strip of pink velvet trim at the neck and cuffs I’d added myself and a pair of adorable cowgirl boots covered in pink cabbage roses—a long look. “I think not, Ms. Trueheart.”

  “She does know fashion,” Jody said, looking at my outfit with covetous eyes. (I told you it was cute.)

  “It’s true,” Gwen added. “Which is weird since she’s not on the cheerleading squad, but, like, look at her boots, Mr. G. Those boots are bangin’.”

  “I’ll take your word for it. Ms. Trueheart, I’m putting you on the advice column.” He wrote my name on the whiteboard. “Last year’s end-of-the-year survey showed the advice column is the least read and least liked column in the paper. Students said it was boring. Maybe you can make it…bangin’.”

  “The advice column?” I could work with that. The “Ask Mr. and Ms. Jackalope” column had been a little lackluster the last couple semesters. We were the Jackson High Jackalopes. Yes, it’s a mythical creature, but that’s what made it so fun to my mind. Although, our mascots, Mr. and Ms. Jackalope, were actually long-eared rabbits. With a little hard work and creativity, I was sure I could turn the co
lumn around. “Sounds like a challenge, but I’m up for it.”

  “You’ll need a partner to work with…” Mr. G scanned the room. It made sense as both Mr. and Ms. Jackalope responded to questions the student body sent in.

  Please don’t pick Gwen. Please don’t pick Gwen. Please don’t pick Gwen.

  At that moment, the classroom door opened and Grady Burnett strolled in as casual and laid back as you please. He wore faded blue jeans (that looked like he’d grabbed them up off the floor for all the wrinkles they had) and a T-shirt that hugged his muscled chest. (He played two or three varsity sports, so he had plenty of muscles to hug—not that I noticed. Much.) I’m sorry, where was I? Uh… T-shirt. Right. His sun-streaked brown hair swooped across his forehead, wild and unkempt like a young Zac Efron.

  “Nice of you to join us, Mr. Burnett.” Mr. Garrison arched an eyebrow, pausing to let Grady finish making his entrance. “Did you get enough beauty sleep?”

  “I’m not sure I did, Mr. G.” Grady grinned when the girls in class whooped and whistled, a definite consensus that his good looks didn’t require a single minute more sleep. (Girls minus yours truly.) He slid into a seat in the back before adding, “Sorry to interrupt. Please go on.”

  “Dude, Garrison is handing out the newspaper assignments.” Josh gave him a fist bump and a grin. “Sports reporter is still open.”

  “Perfect timing then. Mr. Garrison, I’ll cover the sports column,” Grady said, shoving a hand through his shaggy hair.

  “A generous offer, Mr. Burnett.” Mr. G rubbed his jaw as if considering but only for a second. “One I believe I’ll turn down. I’ve got something else in mind for you. Ms. Itzlrab, you’re on the sports beat.”

  “OMG, yaaasss!” Gwen squealed. “I know just where to start. In depth, up close, very personal interviews with the varsity players. Grady, I’ll start with you.”

  “What?” No, no, no. Please tell me I heard that wrong. My head swiveled around to Grady and our eyes locked. His frown slid into a slow grin and his jewel-green eyes sparked with humor. Because, by my count, there was only one assignment left. Oh sure. As long as he knew it would annoy me, he was fine with it. Grrrr. I spun back around. “I’ll vouch for Grady’s sports knowledge. He plays football and lacrosse. I feel he’ll give the student body a very detailed and informed report of all the sports here at Jackson.”

  “Actually, he won’t. Mr. Burnett, I’m assigning you the advice column with Ms. Trueheart.”

  This was not good. Not good at all. My eyes narrowed and I clenched my jaw as I twisted my head around toward my new partner. Ugh. I had actually worked with Grady once before. Yep. Tenth grade. The year I lost my 4.0. Thanks to him, I earned my only “B.” Yeah, Grady hadn’t done his part of our science report. I don’t mean that he tried and it wasn’t good. I mean the guy didn’t even do it. Not one word or one equation. It had taken me two long years of hard work and a lot of AP classes in my attempt to recover my perfect 4.0.

  I was sitting at 3.97. This semester was the one that would get me back. I refused to let Grady Burnett ruin that. My eye twitched at the thought. It took careful control not to scream in frustration at the unfairness. But—like my mama always said—nobody told me life would be fair. Besides, losing my temper would shock my classmates (I was known for my nice, happy personality) and it wouldn’t accomplish anything.

  Instead, I smiled at Grady (my brightest sunshiny smile) and gave him a nod. “I’m looking forward to working together, Grady.”

  He raised a dark eyebrow before his lips slid into his signature cocky grin. “So am I, Lacey Jane. So am I.”

  My sunshine smile cooled and dimmed. Not even my parents used my middle name. Of course, I never got in trouble so they never had a reason to. No, only Grady with his cocky smile and his hot too-knowing eyes.

  My fingers itched to text my best friend, Bernie—the only person who knew I wasn’t always as sunshine, rainbows, and puppies as I appeared. Bernie didn’t do drama. She’d help talk me down. But I never pulled out my phone until the end-of-class bell sounded. Rules were in place for a reason.

  So, I channeled my inner-Bernie and let out a breath. This would be fine. I wouldn’t allow Grady Burnett to get to me no matter how hard he tried. And I absolutely wouldn’t let him sabotage my GPA. Oh, no. He burned me before. I may be nice, but I wasn’t gullible.

  I determined right then and there that the “Ask Mr. and Ms. Jackalope” advice column would have its best semester ever. If Grady Burnett thought he could sleep through this assignment, he was in for a big surprise.

  2

  It’s Not You, It’s Me

  Grady

  It was the loud bang inches from my head that startled me awake. I jerked up in my seat, ran a quick hand across my mouth in case I’d been drooling, and looked up into the perturbed face of Mrs. Hall, my history teacher.

  “I’m sorry to disturb your nap, Mr. Burnett, but your snoring interrupted my lecture.”

  “Hey, sorry about that.” I wasn’t lying. I usually slipped out of class to nap in the media center. Only they’d called my house to check up on my narcolepsy story. Busted. So, I’d been permanently banned unless I was with a teacher.

  I should probably file an official complaint with Principal Barstow about how hard it was for a sleep-deprived student to nap around here.

  Mrs. Hall stood waiting for…huh. For me to expound on my apology, I guess?

  “I don’t mean any disrespect. It’s just hard for me to stay awake by seventh period.” I gave her my most sincere expression. “What I’m saying, Mrs. Hall, is…it’s not you, it’s me.”

  Snickers and snorts busted out in the classroom. I knew I’d regret opening my big mouth. To be fair, I was still only half-awake and not able to control my filter.

  “Grady?” Her voice came out like one of those ominous voice-overs in a movie right before something bad happens. Between that and the scowl on her face, I knew what was coming.

  “Yes, ma’am. I know. Saturday morning detention. Be there or be square.”

  In the beginning, I’d hated detention. But now—well—it got me out of my house, so…

  The bell rang, signaling the end of school and I gave myself a mental high five for making it the whole day. I was still tired, even after my nap, and I had lacrosse practice to endure.

  I left history—with my crisp new detention slip in hand—and made my way through the crowded halls.

  “Grady!” Melissa Baker, one of the popular cheerleaders, slid in next to me. “Where were you at lunch?”

  “Oh, hey.” I shrugged but kept walking. I wasn’t trying to be rude, but I had to be on the practice field in fifteen minutes and needed to swing by the band hall to grab my guitar first. Even though I hadn’t taken a music class since freshman year, Miss Carver let me store my guitar in her office during the day.

  “I was looking for you, but you weren’t at Randy’s with Dax, TJ, and the rest of the crowd.”

  “You found me now,” I said. I actually didn’t eat with the guys on the team very often. Most of the guys didn’t even notice. Once you had a reputation it stuck which was fine by me. “What’s up?”

  “Only that I’m having a huge party on Saturday. My parents are going out of town and it’s going to be awesome.” She shoved a piece of paper at me. “Here are the deets. You have to show up.”

  “You know me. I’ll be there.” I wouldn’t be there.

  “Promise, Grady?” She hugged my arm, batting her eyelashes up at me. “You know how it is… It’s not a party unless Grady Burnett shows up.”

  “You bet.” I gave her a nod and peeled off into the band room, grabbed my guitar case and—

  “Grady Burnett!” Miss Carver tapped her director’s baton on the music stand in front of her to help grab my attention. “Not so fast. A word, if you please…”

  I huffed out a sigh and made my way across the room. Miss Carver was a great teacher. She really cared for her students, and although I hadn’t
been her student since freshman year, she didn’t let that get in her way.

  “What did you decide about auditioning for Juilliard?” she asked, her gaze pinning me down.

  “I appreciate you sending me the information, but I don’t plan to go on to college.” Circumstances dictated that choice mostly, but honestly, I didn’t see the point.

  “Grady, you’re a gifted musician.” She shook her head, frustration sparking in her eyes. This was because it wasn’t the first time we’d had this conversation. “Then how about at least play in the talent showcase. I could really use a few great acts.”

  “Nothing personal, Miss Carver, but I’m going to pass. Between lacrosse, homework, family obligations and my part time job, I don’t have any free time.”

  “I don’t recall you spent much time on homework.” She arched a brow at me. “At least, not for my class.”

  “So maybe not homework.” I grinned, because yeah, I half-assed my homework—when I had time to do it. I made sure I did enough to maintain a “C” average so I wouldn’t get kicked off varsity football and lacrosse. “Sorry, but no showcase for me.”

  “Anyone ever tell you you’re frustrating and stubborn?” she asked, her forehead creased in a frown.

  “All the time.” In fact, I heard both at home. A lot. I shrugged an apology and grabbed my guitar case. “Gotta run, Miss Carver. I’ve got practice.”