Part 7 (1/2)

”Ah, I love you, pretty girl! You're awesome.” He grins over at me, then turns to Nick with a severe look, pointing a finger at him. ”You, I could never love. And you definitely ain't pretty.”

”Oh, I don't know about that,” I say teasingly, leaning forward to tug on Nick's tousled brown hair. ”A little mascara, a little blush...maybe some fuchsia lip gloss?”

”Nah, fuchsia's not my color. I look like s.h.i.+t in it,” he says casually.

”And you know this how?”

I lean forward between the two fronts seats and twist my body to look at Nick. He's rubbing his stubbly chin, a cute little smile on his face.

”Well, you know...hm. Okay, I made the mistake of pa.s.sing out at Ben's house one night. I was, like, drunk off my a.s.s, and-you know his little sister, Mackenzie? She enters all those Little Miss beauty pageants, and she's got these crazy makeup kits. So I pa.s.s out on his couch, right, and the next morning I wake up in full drag. He even got those-those little fake nails on me. I had a b.i.t.c.h of a time getting them off.”

An image pops into my head of Nick, dressed like a beauty queen, fake wig askew as he desperately tries to yank off his press on nails. I lean back, trying to stifle my snickers.

He lifts his head to look at me in the rearview mirror. ”Don't think I don't see you laughing over there, Juliet,” he says mock accusingly.

”I'm not.” I press a fist to my mouth to cover my huge grin. ”I'm just...I'm so happy.” I choke on a giggle.

Mack, who had been silently amused until now, speaks up. ”So, when was this? And does anyone have pictures?”

Nick stops at a red light, and turns to Mack. ”You're kidding, right? Ben had my picture on his online profile for, like, a year.”

Mack looks blank for a second, this his eyes grow comically big. ”Holy s.h.i.+t!” he breathes, horrified. ”You're Sleeping Beauty!”

”Well, thank you...”

”Ah, d.a.m.n it! That a.s.shole, Ben!” Mack roars, moving his big shoulders irritably. ”He told me you were his hot cousin from Norway. I've been trying to get her number for months-and all this time it was you?”

”You were gonna ask me out, man?” Nick starts laughing.

Mack is growling under his breath, a low-pitched rumbling noise. He seems very disturbed. h.e.l.l, I'm disturbed on his behalf.

Ben and his pranks! I clear my throat. ”Hey, who wants to listen to some eighties mixes, huh? Nick, can you...?”

I hand him my phone, and he hastily plugs it in. He turns the volume up, and soon pure eighties goodness fills the Range Rover's interior with its feel good beats and cringe worthy lyrics. Who can remain p.i.s.sed when aggressive women are advising you to push it-push it good? Not Mack. Pretty soon, the three of us are rocking out to the music, dancing in our seats and shouting out the words to the songs. I probably would have felt like a big dork if I got caught doing it alone, but with Nick and Mack there-I just don't care when the people in the pa.s.sing cars stare at us like we're lunatics. I even briefly consider licking the window for the glaring old couple in the car next to us at a stop sign.

I wouldn't have. I don't even know why that popped into my head.

All too soon, we arrive at the Leclare Academy for Rich Kids. Okay, it's just Leclare Academy, but have you seen their parking lot? My little Nissan will get a complex being sandwiched between all the Porsches and the Lexus.

The campus is comprised of sprawling green lawns and three gleaming white buildings that look like they were designed with a Spanish monastery in mind. There's even a little bell tower in the main building. Nice touch!

There are students milling around in the parking lot and on the lawn in front of the main building, and many of them greet Nick and Mack as we make our way to the office. I can feel curious eyes on me, but it's easy to ignore them when I'm sandwiched between my two hottie escorts.

Still, I wonder how many of them were at the party on Friday. How many people know that I'm Johnny Parker's very recent ex? Is it just paranoia that makes it seem like people are whispering to each other as we pa.s.s by? I get a weird itchy feeling between my shoulder blades, and I hunch my shoulders, trying to get rid of it.

After I get my schedule and a locker a.s.signed to me, Mack gives me a big hug and wishes me luck before he takes off to talk to his French teacher about a make-up quiz. On the way to my locker, Nick takes a look at my schedule to see if we have any cla.s.ses together.

”Just Government,” he says with a shake of his head. ”s.h.i.+t...Physics and Calculus? Are you trying to kill yourself?”

”What? I like those subjects,” I laugh, pus.h.i.+ng my hair over my shoulder. Someone knocks into me, almost throwing me off balance, but Nick quickly reaches out an arm to steady me. ”Thanks.”

”No problem. AP Lit with Shannon-Dean, Ben, and Sloane are in that cla.s.s. They say Shannon's great. Most of the teachers here are pretty nice-they won't ha.s.sle you much. It's the a.s.sholes in uniforms you have to look out for,” Nick says, and casually tries to trip a dark-haired boy walking by.

The guy stumbles a little, laughing. He swings his backpack at Nick, who ducks. ”d.i.c.k!” he shouts good-naturedly before he rushes off.

”Yeah, if any of these guys give you a hard time, just let us know,” Nick says, nodding at a couple of pretty girls who enthusiastically greet him as they pa.s.s us.

”It's not the guys I'm worried about,” I reply, noticing the girls giving me curious sidelong looks out of the corner of my eye.

He stops me with a hand on my arm. ”Here's your locker,” he says, pointing to locker B-115. He leans an elbow on the one next to it, and smiles down at me. ”Well, I can't beat up any girls for you, but I can tell you I'll always be here if you need someone to talk to.”

”Thanks,” I say gratefully. Then I shake my head. ”I'll be okay. I just...it's high school, so I know people are going to be talking about...you know. He's a big deal around here, isn't he?”

I don't have to say his name. Nick nods sympathetically. ”Listen, it would kill Johnny if he knew anyone was ha.s.sling you because of him. Just ignore that s.h.i.+t, and eventually it will blow over. If not, I could always make an a.s.s of myself so the gossip freaks have someone else to focus on.” He grins crookedly.

”Hm, thanks, but you're a high school football player-aren't you pretty much required to make an a.s.s out of yourself on a daily basis?”

”Um...ow. But, yeah, you're right, we all have a quota to fill.” Nick ruffles my hair in a playful way. ”Come on, I'll walk you to your first cla.s.s.”

I realize just how popular Nick is when pretty much everyone we walk by acknowledges him in some way. And he always greets them back-from the popular-looking kids to the...not-so-popular-looking ones. He's such a great guy. No wonder Johnny's friends with him.

It's going to be awkward hanging out with his group. I didn't think about it. Who gets the kids in the divorce? I suppose they were his friends first. I guess I could make new ones here, and gradually start distancing myself from the guys.

Or I could entice them over to the dark side with my Mexican lasagna and baked goods. He can keep the girls. And Ryan and Jason. That's fair, right?

I try to make Nick leave when I find out his first cla.s.s is in a different building, but he insists on walking me to the door. He pats me on the shoulder and tells me he'll see me in Government before he takes off at a dead saunter.

For one brief humiliating moment, I feel like a child whose parent has just abandoned them on the first day of school. I have a strong urge to run after Nick, and wrap my arms around his legs as he tries to walk away. I can even see it in my head. Why are only little kids allowed to do things like that? Am I not allowed to be needy, too?

Shut up, Juliet. Time to face the music.

It's actually not that bad. My first two cla.s.ses go off without a hitch. Some people are nice, some stare and whisper. No one goes out of their way to talk to me, which is fine by me. I could go up to them and introduce myself, but I don't. I'm not exactly the friendly type, myself.

Note to self: never ask a b.i.t.c.hy-looking cheerleader for directions. They're mean, and they lie.

Thankfully, I run into Aunt Jo before I can embarra.s.s myself by bursting into frustrated tears. I hate being late!

”Aunt” is more of an honorary t.i.tle. Joanne Liddell is a family friend, as well as head of Leclare Academy. Her influence, along with my grandmother's generosity, is the reason I was accepted after the admissions deadline. She doesn't have to tell me I'd better not screw it up.

”Well, Juliet,” Aunt Jo says. ”What cla.s.s are you about to be late for?”

I skid to a stop in front of her, my shoes sliding a little on the slick floor. ”Hi, Aunt-Ms. Liddell. Government, room 211. Am I even close?”

Aunt Jo's stern face relaxes into a slight smile. ”You aren't even in the right building. Come on, then. I'll walk with you.”

I sigh in relief. ”Thanks.”