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  “Officer?” Mom cleared her throat, sounding half pleasant. Must have been the sleeping pills. “Just to be clear, Mr. Ryder doesn’t live in the house next door?”

  “No, Mrs. Larson,” he said. “Unless you count squatting in the boat house uninvited for a few nights.”

  “Squatting?” she repeated like she’d never heard the word.

  “Also known as breaking and entering in my line of work,” he explained. “Also known as a regular occurrence if you’re Jude Ryder.”

  “This isn’t his first time being arrested?” mom asked, staring at me as she spoke.

  Officer Murphy chuckled. “Nowhere near it,” he said. “We’ve known Jude and those other three delinquents since they were grade schoolers. Bad eggs, every last one of them,” he said, looking at me like he was trying to drive a message home. “These boys are the sort fathers pray their daughters never have the misfortune of meeting. These are the kind of boys that grow into men that spend their lives in prison.”

  Mom sighed, shaking her head while dad enjoyed the benefits of la-la land.

  “But Jude saved me from those other three,” I said, not sure why I was speaking up. As I’d expected, I knew nothing about Jude. I felt betrayed and lied too and duped. But somehow, even with all that stacked against him, I still felt the need to stand up for him. “They would have killed me if he hadn’t stepped in.” I made sure to make eye contact with my mom, driving home that Jude was the only one capable of saving me since my parents had been snoring drug-induced low Cs for hours.

  “Not to dispute what you’re saying, Lucy, but in all my years of dealing with Jude Ryder, I’ve never once known him to care about anyone but himself,” Officer Murphy said to me, his smile sympathetic. “Boys like that are incapable of caring about anyone but themselves.”

  “I don’t believe that,” I said, ignoring my mom’s glare.

  “I know, Lucy. I know you don’t,” Murphy replied, opening the screen door. “Jude wouldn’t be such a capable and successful criminal if he wasn’t charming and manipulative, but tell you what. When Jude gets released in the next hopefully three weeks, but more likely few days, let me know if you hear from him, will you? If he calls you to apologize and beg your forgiveness or heck, even if he calls just to say hi, you let me know, and I will retract my statement about him not caring for anyone but himself. But if he doesn’t, will you do me a favor and forget you ever met Jude Ryder?”

  I wasn’t sure whether I shook or nodded my head, but Officer Murphy was right about one thing.

  I never did get that call a few days or a few weeks later.

  CHAPTER SIX

  First day of school. Brand new school. Senior year.

  Those people that say a hell doesn’t exist are so wrong.

  Southpointe High is everything I only believed happened on reality television. The girls were twice as pretty as the average teenage girl, the boys could pass for college students, so called geeks get tossed into garbage cans or shoved into lockers, several female teachers made glaringly obvious passes at male students, and I witnessed at least a dozen different drug deals taking place in between periods.

  And it wasn’t even lunch time yet.

  The teacher was just going over the semester syllabus, which included reading and reviewing books I’d read in seventh grade, when the bell went off like it was bomb raid alert. Being the new girl, when everyone ushered me to the seat closest to the door, little did I realize it was also closest to the bell that was its own sonic boom.

  Like the three periods before, fourth earned another roll of snickers and eyes as everyone watched me all but jump from my skin. I was going to need to buy stock in ibuprofen because I’d be taking it every four hours from now until graduation day on June third. And yes, I already had a countdown going.

  “So you’re the new girl the guys are already betting on who will nail you first,” a girl that was so put together, so gorgeous, she had to be a veneer said.

  “Excuse me?” I was all for being friendly, especially when I didn’t have a single friend here, but I wasn’t one to roll over and expose my throat.

  Veneer girl caught on quick that I wouldn’t be her personal doormat she could wipe the mud off her Valentinos on because she smiled, waving at the air. “Don’t let anything the male species says or does around these parts upset you. I know the general consensus is they’ve supposedly evolved from apes, but that’s just an insult to apes in my opinion.”

  “Oh-kay,” I muttered, slipping my book bag over my shoulder.

  “I’m Taylor,” she said, flouncing her hair as a guy nudged past her, giving her a look that should strictly be reserved for the bedroom.

  “I’m Lucy,” I said, not sure if this could be the makings of my first friend at Hell High or someone who subscribed to the keep your friends close and your enemies closer motto.

  “Have any plans for lunch, Lucy?” Taylor asked, weaving her arm through mine and tugging me through the door.

  I didn’t have a chance to reply.

  “You have to sit with me and my gang. I’m not taking no for an answer,” she said, leading me down the hall, making that hall her bitch. I swear every head turned as she sashayed down that runway. Guys winked, whistled, and stared. Lots of staring. The girls pretended to ignore her, but shot glares or stink eyes from the side.

  “Thanks?” I said, uncertain if I should be thankful.

  “First impressions are everything and second impressions are nothing,” she said as we burst into the cafeteria. Same reaction in here as it had been in the hall. Whatever Taylor had here, it was powerful stuff. “Now we’ve got a bit of damage control to mitigate, but I think we’ll be all right if we play it right.”

  My head was spinning. “And by damage control, you mean because the guys are already spreading rumors about who’s going to bang me first, or soonest, or hardest, or whatever the hell?” How disillusioned had I been to believe school was first and foremost a place to learn? I was having my former assumptions handed to me on a plate.

  “The guys? Of course not,” Taylor said, waving back at a table in the far corner. “That’s the highest form of compliment in their books. It’s the girls, more specifically the girlfriends of the guys taking bets on the new girl. Plus, your wardrobe isn’t exactly disputing the slut image.”

  My nose wrinkled. This girl spoke a language I wasn’t familiar with and she was taking a jab at my wardrobe. My skirt was a teensy bit short, yes, but I had on a cardigan and flats to tame it down, for god’s sake.

  “They’re striking an offensive, a potent one.”

  “And that would be?” I asked, wondering if at least some of the glares and stink eyes were aimed at me. In fact, that dark haired girl who didn’t know the meaning of less is more when it comes to mascara was definitely aiming that stink eye my way as she draped her arm over the guy beside her.

  “They’ve labeled you a slut,” Taylor said with a shrug. “I’ve already seen it scrolled across two bathroom mirrors in last season’s lipstick and heard it whispered at least fifty times in the hallways.”

  Was it possible to hate high school more? Yes, the answer is always yes.

  “Fan-flipping-tastic,” I replied, holding my shoulders high. “And what did I do or not do to deserve the dumbasses of Southpointe High taking bets on bagging me and the girls that date them labeling me a slut?”

  Of course I knew the world wasn’t fair, not everything made sense or followed a logical, harmonious path, but I at least wanted a reason why the world sucked if there was one.

  “That,” Taylor stopped me, spinning me around so we were staring at the lunch line. My breath hitched in my lungs, and a bad case of vertigo followed. “Is the reason why.”

  His tray slid to a stop as his shoulders tensed. A gray beanied back of the head turned and he looked at me like he knew exactly where I was. Jude’s eyes went from charcoal to molten silver in the space of a breath. A smile that was small, but honest broke and I felt my worl
d beginning to spiral out of control again.

  “I take it from that stupid grin on your face the rumors are true,” Taylor said, trying to steer me along, but I wasn’t moving. More truthfully, I couldn’t move when Jude looked at me the way he was now. “But here’s rule number one here at Southpointe High—if you want to keep even a moderately clean reputation, you don’t look at, talk to, or Lord forbid, date guys like Jude Ryder.”

  Leaving his tray teetering in front of a tray of green gelatin substance, he headed my way, carving a line through the packed cafeteria. Anyone that saw him coming moved, and those that didn’t were tugged away by nearby friends or shouldered out of the way by Jude.

  “He’s coming over here?” Taylor said, sounding like it was upending her social theories and beliefs.

  “Yeah?” Didn’t seem that earth shattering to me.

  Taylor shook her head like I was hopeless. “Jude never ever, in a hundred million years, pursues a woman. He’s the pursued, not the pursuer.”

  This time it was my turn to shrug. “He’s just coming over to say hi.”

  “Exactly. Jude doesn’t come over and say hi to anyone,” she said impatiently. “I’ll repeat, he’s the pursued.”

  It felt like every eye in the cafeteria was pinging from Jude to me. This was high school hot off the presses drama unfolding right here. “I thought you just said if a girl cared about their reputation, they wouldn’t hang out with the likes of Jude. Isn’t that why I’m a bonafied slut in the eyes of Southpointe High’s fair, unbiased, give a person the benefit of the doubt population?”

  “Yeah, I said that,” Taylor said, eyeing Jude in a way that made me feel all territorial. “But haven’t you noticed that with guys like Jude, a girl just doesn’t care about her reputation?”

  There didn’t seem to be an appropriate answer to that, so I weaved out of her hold and headed for him.

  “What are you doing?” Taylor said behind me.

  “Going to say hi.”

  “You can’t do that,” she hissed, rushing forward and grabbing my arm.

  I wasn’t sure if this girl was doing drugs or had forgotten to take them, but she was starting to piss me off. “Listen. Taylor,” I said, spinning on her. “If my reputation can manage to get even sluttier by saying hi to someone, so damn well be it.” Tugging my arm free, I caught the beginnings of her wounded glare cast my way.

  So much for making friends.

  “Hey, Luce.”

  If I’d still had any back there, the hair on my neck would have stood on end. “Hey, Jude.” Composing whatever I was able to of myself, I turned. He was still grinning like this had been the best thing to happen to him all week and, other than the fresh scar cris-crossing his eyebrow, he looked exactly the same: dark clothes, dark hat, dark secrets.

  “I didn’t expect to see you here,” he said, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

  “Really?” I said, trying to act like we weren’t on a stage for everyone to witness. “I didn’t expect to see you here either, especially when the last time I saw you, you were being hauled away in a police car.”

  His expression twisted as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, about that. I suppose I’ve got some explaining to do.”

  “Some?” I said. “I’d say you’ve got yourself a mountain range of explaining to do.”

  “I know,” he said, his face shadowing. “I know.” Reaching for my shoulder, his fingers twisted in my hair. “Your hair looks pretty.” He pulled gently on the end of it, where it now barely skimmed my shoulders. I was lucky I still had any hair and just as lucky I happened to know the Annie Sullivan of hairstylists, but I missed my long hair every day. Every time I poured too much shampoo into my hand, every time I tried to tie it back into a ponytail, every time I reached for something to twirl around my finger. It was a shallow, even vain thing to mourn for, but I still did.

  “Pretty awful,” I replied, trying to tell myself the lightheadedness I was experiencing was due to an empty stomach and not the way his fingers slid through my hair. “But at least I’m not bald.”

  Jude laughed, the kind that filled the entire cafeteria. “If anyone could rock a bald head, it would be you, Luce.”

  “So when did you get out?” I asked quietly, looking around.

  “It’s all right. Everyone already knows,” Jude shouted, “what a good for nothing SON OF A BITCH I AM!” His voice thundered against the cafeteria walls, followed by a chorus of spoons clattering onto trays. “I got out a couple weeks ago,” he said in a normal voice, lifting a shoulder.

  I tried not to act thrown. “And you couldn’t call?”

  “Of course I could have called, Luce,” Jude said, his voice tight.

  “So you didn’t call.”

  “Do you need an answer to that or are you just looking for a way to make me feel shittier than I already do?”

  “You feel shitty?” I said, stepping forward. “You feel shitty?” I repeated just because it felt good. “I was almost burnt to death by a couple of your acquaintances I never would have had the honor of meeting had it not been for you. My dog was burnt to death. I had two feet of hair go up in flames, was choked, gagged, and dosed in gasoline thanks to your friends. I’m officially an honorary Southpointe High slut because somehow everyone knows I know you, so that must mean I’ve slept with you six ways to Sunday.” I was giving the audience exactly what they wanted, a damn show, and they weren’t missing a hot minute of it.

  “There it is, there’s your answer,” Jude replied, his jaw popping. “That’s why I didn’t call. That’s why I didn’t show up on your doorstep the second I was released from juvy like I wanted to. I’m cancer, Luce. And not the kind that you can kill off with radiation. The kind that kills you in the end.” That vulnerability I’d caught glimpses of before was there again, drowning in his eyes.

  I was too pissed, or too hurt, to let those eyes affect me. “Well, thanks for nothing. Have a nice life.”

  Quite possibly the hardest thing I’d done to date was turn my back on him in front of a wide-eyed cafeteria and walk away.

  I didn’t know where to go, but I couldn’t march angry circles around the cafeteria unless I wanted to add mentally unstable to my laundry list of titles. So, swallowing my pride and my opinion that Taylor might be the most manipulative female to have ever walked the earth, I marched my butt right back to her table.

  “I didn’t expect to see you again,” Taylor said, crunching into a carrot stick and giving me a look that would have flattened a lesser woman.

  “Why’s that?” I said as nonchalantly as I could. “I told you I just wanted to say hey to an old friend.”

  “That was one hell of a hey,” Taylor said, all snarky like, before taking a sip of diet soda. The group of girls sitting around her, not nearly as genetically blessed, but still pretty enough to turn their surgically molded noses up at me, snickered into their own cans of diet soda.

  “What that was, Taylor,” I said, pulling a chair out and sitting down. I didn’t need an invitation if they weren’t going to issue one. “Was one hell of a goodbye.”

  “Doesn’t look that way,” she said, staring over my shoulder.

  Turning in my seat, I found Jude standing in the exact place I’d left him, watching me with an intensity I’d never experienced before, staring at me like he didn’t give a damn what anyone thought of him doing so.

  Flipping back around, I tried on my glare for size. “Ah, Taylor, I don’t know. I’m sure you of all people know that looks are deceiving.” Pulling an apple from my bag, I sunk my teeth into it and gave her a challenging smile.

  “Meaning?” she said, leaning forward.

  I was pissing off the wrong person, I knew that, but I’d been through enough in life to recognize petty bullshit when I saw it, and this chick was the queen of petty. “Let’s take you, for example. Someone like you, pretty in a conventional, surgical,”—a combined inhalation spread around the table—“put-together way, can say and use in a sente
nce words like mitigate”—I was doing cart wheels inside, letting this girl have it—“well, someone like that you wouldn’t expect to be such an insufferable, nasty, b—”

  “Hello, ladies,” a newcomer interrupted, nudging a couple of the open-mouthed girls before stopping behind the chair next to me. “This seat taken?”

  I shook my head, giving him a once over before pulling a bottle of water from my bag. Smile too bright, streaks too blond, tan too fake, shirt too ironed. Handsome in a very vanilla way and definitely not in a handsome to me way.

  “So you must be the girl everyone’s talking about,” he said, taking a seat.

  Snickering circled around the table.

  His face turned red, realizing his mistake. “I mean, everyone’s talking about in the sense that you’re the new girl,” he clarified, which did nothing more than earn another round of laughter from the table.

  “Of course that’s what you meant,” Taylor said under her breath.

  He shot her a give-me-a-break look before turning in his seat towards me. “I’m Sawyer,” he said, smiling that artificially white smile. “Sawyer Diamond.”

  Oh, man. Even his name was too . . . annoying. If dad found out I went to school with a guy whose last name was Diamond, he’d try to shove an arranged marriage down my throat. His Lucy in the sky . . . a Diamond.

  “Lucy,” I said, taking a sip of my water, reminding myself that making rash decisions in the heat of anger was always a bad idea. Next time I found myself marching away from someone, I’d march a million circles before sitting down at this table again.

  “Lucy,” he said, pulling a sandwich from his lunch bag. “A pretty name for a pretty girl.”

  I was mid-eye roll when I felt an ominous figure hovering above me.

  “You’re in my seat, Diamond.”

  I didn’t look back. I didn’t need to. I’d recognize that voice if I heard it in my next life too.

  “I didn’t realize this seat was spoken for.” Sawyer twisted in his seat, squaring his shoulders.

  “Your mistake,” Jude said, gripping the back of Sawyer’s chair. “You make a lot of those, don’t you?”