Mr. Gartying shakes his head as he sets the papers down on his desk. “Everyone take a seat and turn to the page written on the board while I take roll.”
I rack my mind for an excuse to give Grey that will get me out of tutoring him as I open my book to the correct page. But everything I come up with seems lame and rude, and I don’t want to be a lame or rude person to anyone, no matter who they are or what they did to me.
“You okay?” Grey whispers to me from across the aisle. “I know Logan can be a dick sometimes.”
“Yeah, I’m fine,” I reply. “And it’s not that big of a deal. He was right about my outfit, anyway.”
“It doesn’t matter if he was right.” He keeps his voice low. “He shouldn’t be an asshole just because he’s rich and doesn’t know what it’s like to struggle.”
My gut twists again. “Grey, I wasn’t stealing because of . . .” I trail off, fearing what everyone will find out if I say it aloud. I’m scared they’ll find out I’m not as good of a person as people think. And most of all, I’m afraid of what will happen if somehow word gets back to my parents.
“Don’t worry; I won’t tell anyone what happened.” He pauses, looking as though he’s having a mental tug-of-war with himself. “Luna, I’m here if you need to talk. I know you have friends and stuff, but I just wanted you to know that.” He smiles at me as he sits back in his seat.
“Okay . . . thanks . . .”
I feel so lost. Why is he being nice to me? Does he feel sorry for me because he thinks I’m poor? Or is it simply because he’s trying to be a nicer person now?
As class begins, I’m left with a handful of unanswered questions, stewing in my own guilt.
By the time lunch arrives, my brain is drained. I’ve spent half the day obsessing over why Grey was so nice to me and whether he’ll keep his promise not to tell anyone my secret. I haven’t heard any rumors plaguing the hallways, though, so that has to be a good sign.
After I grab some snacks and a soda from the vending machines, I join Ari, Beckett, and Wynter outside under the trees. We sometimes leave campus to eat lunch, but my friends always stick around with me and offer moral support when I have to ride out my mother’s punishment.
“This is the worst idea ever.” Wynter playfully whacks Beckett in the back of the head as she sits down on the grass beside me, and he blasts her with a nasty look. “Why would you get Luna into this kind of situation? Why, Beckett? Why? You know how much she hates Grey Sawyer.”
“I don’t hate him.” I rip open a bag of cheese crackers to eat.
“That’s because you’re too nice.” Wynter steals a cracker from my bag and pops it into her mouth. “But deep down, under that niceness, you kinda, sorta hate him, even if you won’t admit it. You have since sophomore year.”
“Hey, I never actually made Grey pay for spreading that rumor about you back in tenth grade, did I?” Beckett slides on his sunglasses. “I should probably do something about that.”
“You mean, like manipulating Luna into tutoring him?” Wynter asks, rummaging through her purse with her head tucked down. “Because that’s a great freakin’ way to make Grey pay for being an asshole. He ends up with good grades, and Luna ends up traumatized from his douche-baggery.”
“Luna didn’t have to agree to tutor him,” Ari says, picking the crust off his sandwich. “She could’ve said no.”
“Don’t be a traitor. Remember who loves you more,” Wynter warns, pointing a finger at Ari.
Ari adjusts his square-frame glasses and brushes his shaggy brown hair out of his eyes. “Since when do you love me more? Because, if I recall, Beckett wasn’t the one who yelled at me for spilling his beer.”
“Hate to break it to you, dude, but when it comes to love, I think Wynter’s your girl,” Beck says with his head tipped down as he scrolls through his phone. “I mean, I’m all for an occasional bromance here and there, but love really isn’t my thing.”
Ari rolls his eyes. “You know that’s not what I meant. I just meant that you’re nicer than she is a lot of the time, but you know what? I’m going to take that back.”
Wynter grins smugly at Beckett. “See? I’m the nicer one.”
Beckett snorts a laugh. “Yeah, okay.”
Wynter lightly smacks Beckett’s arm, and he ignores her, which seems to irritate her more. She places her hands on her hips and starts teasing him about being a pothead until Beckett finally scowls at her. Then she smiles, satisfied with herself, while Ari and I exchange a look.
We had a conversation once about the two of them probably secretly being in love, and all the fighting is just sexual tension. That’s Ari’s theory, anyway. I’m not really buying into it just yet. I wonder if they’ve known each other for so long they have more of a sibling relationship than anything.
“So, are you really going to tutor Grey Sawyer?” he asks me loudly over Beckett and Wynter’s bickering.
“I don’t want to, but I already told him I would.” I stuff a cracker into my mouth. “And I can’t think of a way to get out of it without being a jerk.”
He bites down into his sandwich. “You’re allowed to be a jerk every once in a while. You don’t have to be so nice all the time.”
“I could say the same thing to you.” And I’m not nice all the time, not even close. I just keep my dirty, little secrets hidden because the Harveys aren’t supposed to be bad or mean or improper.
“Hey, I can be mean sometimes,” Ari tries to argue, peeling more crust off his bread.
I laugh. “You so cannot. You’re like the nicest guy ever. Inside and out.”
“I can, too,” he insists. “I think everyone is mean at some point in their lives, right?”
“Okay, I see your point, but still—”
“God, I’m so tired I can’t even see straight.” Willow drops her bag next to me then dramatically falls down on the grass and drapes her arm over her head.
“Napping helps with that,” Beckett says, stealing the bottle of water from Wynter’s hand. “Trust me, I’m an expert.”
“I’m sure you are, but I can’t nap,” Willow unties the over-shirt that’s around her waist, balls it up, and tucks it under her head like a pillow. “My mind won’t slow down enough.”
“I have something that can help with that,” Beckett offers, reaching for his bag.
“No way.” I point a finger at Beck. “I’m not going to let you corrupt our Willow.”
“I’m just giving her a choice.” Beck raises his hands in front of him, surrendering. “Chillax, Lu.”
“He’s not going to corrupt me,” Willow murmurs, her eyelids drifting closed. “I’m already corrupted.”
The four of us look at each other then burst into a fit of laughter.
Willow constrains a smile. “Mock all you want, but I’ve done some bad things. I’ve even came this close”—she holds up her finger and thumb an inch apart—“to being a bad girl.”
“Sticking your gum on the bottom of the desk doesn’t count as being a bad girl,” Beckett says, resting his arms on his knees. “Admit it, Wills, you’re too sweet to be bad.”
“Yeah, you’re probably right.” Willow rolls on her side and cranes her neck to look at him. “That’s more Wynter’s and your thing. Me, Ari, and Luna have to be good to make up for all the bad stuff you two do.”
I set down the bag of crackers, no longer hungry anymore.
“Oh, you think I’m bad, huh?” Beckett teases as he jumps to his feet. “I’ll show you how bad I can be.”
Willow’s eyes pop open, and she scrambles to get up, but Beck snags her by the back of her shirt, yanks her back against him, and tickles the crap out of her.
“Beck, stop!” Willow begs as she tries to squirm out of his hold. “I take it back, okay? You’re good!”
“Say I’m a good boy,” Beck says as he tickles her sides. “And that you love me.”
“Fine! You’re a good boy and I love you!” she manages to get out through her laughter.
r />
Instead of letting her go, he lies on the ground and brings her down with him. Then he rolls on his side and tucks his arm underneath her head. With how close they act, I sometimes wonder if there’s something going on between the two of them. If there is, though, no one seems to know about it.
“My arm’s a better pillow for napping,” Beck insists as he presses his chest against Willow’s back.
“No way. You just think that because you’re cocky,” Willow says, but she rests her head on his arm, and seconds later, her eyelids lower.
Beck looks proud of himself for getting her to relax. It’s a hard thing to do with Willow since she’s usually stressed out about something, has been since the day we became friends back in third grade. She was the quiet, shy girl who wore old clothes that were a little too big for her. She always spent recess on the swings by herself until one day Wynter announced, “She seems sad. We should make her come play hopscotch.” So we marched over there and made her play with us. She didn’t seem too reluctant, though. In fact, she seemed grateful that someone made the effort to get to know her.
But Willow has every reason to be stressed, since she has so much on her plate. On top of helping her parents out financially by working almost every weekend, she’s also trying to get an academic scholarship and spends crazy amounts of hours doing schoolwork.
Beck reaches over with his free hand and steals a handful of crackers from the bag on my lap. “Eat before you sleep,” he says to Willow, offering her the crackers. “You’re too skinny.”
Willow opens her eyes and takes the crackers from Beckett. “Thanks, Beck. I don’t know what I’d do without you sometimes.”
“Probably laugh less.” He gently pinches her in the side before nuzzling against her.
“That’s not fair,” Wynter says to Beck with her lip jutted out. “You’re always nice to Willow and Luna, but all I get from you is being called a spoiled brat.”
“That’s because Will and Lu don’t call me a rich douche all the time,” Beckett mutters. “Nice people get treated nicely.”
I internally grimace. What is with all the nice comments getting thrown in my direction today? My guilt is starting to give me a stomachache.
“I guess I kind of see your point,” Wynter muses thoughtfully, but then her mood fizzles as her gaze darts toward the school. “Oh, boy. Here comes drama.”
I track her gaze to Grey heading in our direction. That lazy smile spreads across his face when he notices me looking at him, and my heart betrays me by fluttering in my chest like a lunatic.
“What a cocky asshole, just like every other damn jock in this school,” Wynter mutters, glaring at him. “He just sees some girls looking in his direction and automatically thinks we’re checking him out.”
She might be wrong, considering I was just kinda, sorta ogling him. Call it a bad habit since tenth grade that I haven’t been able to break.
“Hey, I’m a jock,” Beck says. “And I don’t think like that.”
“You’re not a jock,” Wynter insists. “You just play sports.”
Beck tips his head, slides his sunglasses down, and looks at Wynter. “What’s the difference?”
“Jocks are sports guys who hang out with other sports guys and obsess about sports and think they’re so awesome because they can throw and kick a ball,” Wynter explains. “You, my friend, hang out with a bunch of weirdoes who don’t ever want to hear about any of the sports you play. See? That’s how much we love you. Enough that we haven’t let you fall into the jock mold.”
“Gee, thanks.” Beck shakes his head in disbelief.
“You’re welcome,” Wynter replies, beaming. “And you say I never compliment you.”
“Hey,” Grey says to me, interrupting the conversation.
Ari, Wynter, Beck, and I all look up at him, while Willow remains asleep on Beck’s arm. Some of Grey’s confidence diminishes from our scrutinizing gazes.
“Are you lost or something?” Wynter points at the school. “The gym’s that way.”
“I know where the gym is.” Grey shoots me a quizzical glance and I shrug.
Wynter crisscrosses her legs then rests back on her hands. “So why aren’t you there? That is where all you jockheads hang out all the time, right?”
“Be nice,” I beg Wynter. “Please.”
“Why? He and his steroid friends aren’t nice to anyone other than Dixie, Mixie, and the ditz squad.” Wynter looks at Grey with her brows raised, challenging him to argue with her.
Grey seems the slightest bit amused, the corners of his lips twitching. “If you’re talking about the girls on the cheerleading squad, then I think their names are Dixie and Pixie, not Dixie and Mixie.”
“You’d know better than I would”—Wynter folds her arms across her chest and pins him with her best sassy smirk—“since you’ve probably screwed every single one of them.”
Ari chokes on a mouthful of food while Beck grumbles, and Willow bites down on her bottom lip to restrain a smile while keeping her eyes closed.
Grey lifts a shoulder. “I guess you’d know better than I do since you seem to know everything about me.”
“You said you needed to talk to me?” I say to Grey as I leap to my feet.
His gaze sweeps across my friends before landing back on me. “Can we talk somewhere more private?”
Wynter mouths, “Privately? No way.”
I turn my back on Wynter and gesture at Grey. “Yeah, sure. Lead the way.”
“Be careful, Lu. Don’t let him try to charm you with his jock good looks,” Wynter hollers as Grey and I start across the grass toward the center of the quad. “Remember tenth grade.”
My cheeks heat. I love Wynter to death, but she really needs to stop saying every single thing that pops into her head.
Grey remains silent as we make our way around the people eating lunch on the grass. I catch people gawking at us and cringe when we pass by Piper Talperson, Grey’s girlfriend for the last year.
Grey has stuck to his type over the years, and Piper fits it impeccably: a popular cheerleader with curves. Her hair and makeup are always flawlessly done, and she wears the latest fashions. Honestly, she reminds me a lot of Wynter; only, Wynter has more of an edge to her style and is a hell of a lot nicer.
Looking annoyed, Piper stands up from the bench she’s sitting on and pushes her way over to us. “Babe, where are you going?” she asks Grey, snagging the sleeve of his shirt to stop him.
Grey stops in his tracks, casting an uneasy glance at me as he faces her. “I just need to talk to Luna about something for class,” he explains to Piper.
“Oh, hey, is it Luna?” she says like she just noticed me standing there and has never met me before.
“Yeah.” I force a smile, even though I’m not a huge fan of Piper.
She’s not that nice of a person. I’ve seen her do a lot of cruel things, like openly mocking the other girls in our gym class, calling them fat and ugly and flat chested—yeah, the last one was directed toward me. She also loves to gossip, and I’ve seen her destroy many people’s reputations by outing their darkest secrets.
Her lip curls before she zeroes in on Grey again. “I thought we were going out to lunch together.” She tucks a strand of her long, brown hair behind her ear and flutters her eyelashes as she peers up at him.
“I told you I couldn’t today,” Grey says, sounding tired.
She juts out her bottom lip. “But you’ve been saying that every day since the beginning of the school year. I’m getting bored of staying at school for lunch.”
“Then why don’t you leave campus with your friends?” Grey slips his arm from her hold. “You know you’d be happier if you went with them, anyway.”
“Why are you being such a dick?” She glares at me like somehow it’s my fault.
Not wanting to get involved in their drama, I tell Grey, “I’m going to go wait over there.”
Grey nods, seeming relieved. “Yeah, okay.”
I
take shelter in the shade and mess around with my phone while casting glances in their direction. At first, they seem like they’re having a heated argument, but then Grey gives her a kiss and walks away with a smile on his face.
I find myself wondering what it would be like to have a boyfriend. I’ve never had the opportunity to date anyone I’ve liked. I’ve never even kissed a guy. Well, unless you count the time Ari, Wynter, Willow, Beck, and I played spin the bottle and I had to kiss Beck. It was painfully awkward to say the least, and the two of us couldn’t even look each other in the eye for a month. After that, I put a ban on playing any more kissing games with the four of them.
“Sorry about that,” Grey apologizes as he approaches me.
“No worries.” I put my phone away and follow him as he rounds the side of the school and back to where no one hangs out. It’s also where Piper and the rest of Grey’s friends can’t see us.
He doesn’t say anything right away, staring at the parking lot to our right where the teachers usually park their cars. I spot Ms. Belingfutor, my Biology teacher, taking a smoke break out by one of the cars, and for some reason, that makes me giggle.
“What’s so funny?” Grey asks with a somewhat intrigued, somewhat confused smile.
“It’s nothing.” I point over at Ms. Belingfutor, puffing away. “I just think it’s funny seeing teachers do stuff like that. It makes them seem so normal, which just seems weird.”
Grey glances from Ms. Belingfutor to me. “I get what you’re saying. There was one time I caught Coach feeling up his wife in his office. Although, that was a little less funny and a lot more disturbing than watching Ms. B smoke.”
I force back a giggle. “You really walked in on them?”
He nods with his eyes wide, as if he’s reliving the horror. “It was horrible and so embarrassing, but what’s even worse was that Coach wanted to talk about it to make sure I wasn’t traumatized. Which I was, but I wasn’t about to tell him that.” He folds his arms across his chest and shifts his weight as his forehead creases. “I’ve never told anyone that before. I know if the guys on the team ever found out, they’d never let me live it down.”