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Table of Contents

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Acknowledgments

About the Author

Discover more of Entangled Teen Crush's books...

Don't Kiss the Messenger

Swinging at Love

Operation Prom Date

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

Copyright © 2017 by Lizzy Charles. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the Publisher.

Entangled Publishing, LLC

2614 South Timberline Road

Suite 109

Fort Collins, CO 80525

Visit our website at www.entangledpublishing.com.

Crush is an imprint of Entangled Publishing, LLC.

Edited by Kate Brauning

Cover design by Erin Dameron-Hill

Cover art from Adobestock

ISBN 978-1-63375-936-7

Manufactured in the United States of America

First Edition May 2017

for my father
Chapter One

Edelweiss

A proctored exam. The knot in my throat tightens, yet I force myself to lift my chin. "Shouldn't be a problem."

The headmistress shifts back in her leather chair and nods. Hopefully she's impressed I didn't turn my head to glance at my mother, my lifelong teacher, the moment she mentioned testing me. "Just a short mathematics exam for determining your class placement. It's not often we have a previously homeschooled student attend Brockmore. Without being able to research the curriculum used to guide your studies, I need to gauge your current understanding."

Her coral blush glows against her umber skin as she smiles, waiting for my nod of acknowledgment. Once I give it, her attention returns to my parents, who perch in leather armchairs beside me. I rock in my chair, feeling the bump of the small Moleskine notebook in my back pocket, where that exact phrase—a proctored exam—is listed among my "top ten must-have high school experiences" so college doesn't chew me up and spit me out like a bad brussels sprout.

Well, top eleven. When I showed Mom the book, she added her own scribbling to the page, right over my first goal of joining the student government. Fall in love and break up, she'd written down with a wink. "You don't want your first heartbreak to be in an environment where losing yourself could cascade into your future more permanently."

A good point. So I kept it, and then I added about ten more pages of random stuff to the list. Why stop at eleven when preparing for college? I put down everything I could imagine so I could feel accomplished as I scratched things off through the year. Survive cafeteria food is on page two, and I should be able to check that off in a few hours, given I do in fact survive.

A group of guys rushes past Headmistress Creighton's window, throwing a Frisbee. It's still hard to believe I'm here. Of all the places I've studied, from nooks off of throne rooms in Belgium to wandering the Ivory Coast of Abidjan, I never thought I'd end up in a real high school. The dark woodwork hugs the doorframe with detailing that's gained beauty with age. The room creaks with my own excitement for this change as the headmistress slides the final paperwork toward Dad.

Dad hesitates, clutching his pen so hard it might break. He loves to tell its story, how his law firm gifted it to him the day he left with his pregnant wife—enter me—for D.C. to prepare for his new position at the U.S. Embassy in Germany. He claims the stainless steel that houses the ink is unbreakable. Ridiculous. Everything breaks. Still, I humor him with a firm nod anytime he mentions it, which is often, since he always has it tucked into the inside pocket of his sports coat. Finally, in a fluid movement, his cursive uncurls along the black line, his name spelling out my freedom.

After the paperwork is signed, we wander around campus together until our time runs out. All parents have to be off campus before the welcoming banquet.

"Are you sure about this, honey?" Mom presses her palm to my cheek as we wait for their ride on the front steps of Brockmore Academy.

"I need to try something new."

She juts out her lower lip, feigning a pout. "What? Learning German folklore while walking through the Black Forest wasn't interesting enough for you?"

I bump her gently with my shoulder. "You know what I mean, Mom. Anytime I think of college—" The skin over my collarbone prickles, and I have to stop to take a slow breath. How will I ever survive college if I've never stepped foot inside a real school?

Mom takes my hand and gives it a good squeeze. "I understand." She doesn't let go, and for the first time I notice that her palm is now slightly smaller than my own. "Perhaps I should have given you a more traditional education, with workbooks and such. Then again..." She adjusts my necklace, then lifts her mint-green eyes to mine. "I like how you've turned out, but I understand why you're doing this. You need it. I can tell."

"Thanks, Mom."

A few feet away, Dad sighs and slips his cell phone into the inside pocket of his suit coat. "Peter's not able to make it," he says, wrapping his arm around Mom.

"Oh no." Mom pats his arm, wiggling into his embrace. I can't even look at them, instead glancing around to make sure no one notices their public display of affection. Thankfully, everyone else has already said their good-byes, and the front drive of Brockmore is empty.

"I was able to fly twelve hours to be here, and he can't catch a train for four. This is why I never went into the military."

"Sorry, Dad. I know you were looking forward to seeing him again." Colonel Peter Parson is one of my parents' oldest friends. One I need to thank immensely for encouraging them to release their clutches and send me to Brockmore.

"Then how is James getting here?" Mom glances over her shoulder, as if she expects Colonel Parson's son, James, to be rushing toward us, excited to meet her.

"Family." Dad glances down at me with a grin. "So are you excited to get rid of your old man?" A black limo curls around the grove of pine trees that borders Brockmore Road all the way down to the town. "Look at that. Right on time."

I nudge him with my elbow. They're flying back to Monaco, and the next time I'll see them will be over winter break. To be honest, I don't know how I feel about it. I'm way overdue to have a few nights to myself, but four months sounds a little overwhelming. "I'll miss you. You know that."

"Still. A whole year without dear old dad being able to frighten boys away."

"Dad. Please." Warmth floods my cheeks. He knows very well I've never been asked on a date. The limo pulls into a smooth, easy stop curbside. Both my parents look frozen, but I start walking down the steps, knowing they'll follow.

Dad skips a step to be even with me. "I thought perhaps I'd be able to have a few words with James. Tell him to look out for you and all that. Unfortunately, Peter says he isn't answering his phone. Looks like you'll have to introduce yourself to him at the banquet tonight."

"If I can manage to find him. There are four hundred students in this school!" My thumb twitches until it unlocks from its joint. Somehow this movement satisfies, in a way I can never explain to anyone else.

Mom laughs. "Honey, there were twelve hundred students in my high school, and I knew every single person in my class of four hundred and twenty. You get used to it. Trust me."

"See, this is why I need a typical high school experience. If four hundred kids freak me out, how in the world will I survive navigating a campus of thousands like Yale or MIT?"

Mom reaches out, patting my hand, her gentle signal she's always given me whenever she catches me popping my thumb joint. Her quest to prevent me from arthritis never ends. "Sorry." When I pull my hand back, the impulse to pop the joint returns fiercely.

Dad speaks with the driver for a moment, and when he returns, he glances up at the stunning stone building hovering over us. He laughs. "I'd hardly call one of the most elite boarding schools in the nation a typical high school, but that's not your fault. It's the only place I can bear sending you." He opens his arms, and I step into his hug. "We're going to miss you, Edelweiss."

"I'm going to miss you, too."

It takes twenty minutes' worth of hugs and tears and "I love yous," but finally they let me go, pulling away in their jet-black limo with Mom's hand waving from the window. A cutting anguish digs into me as I watch them disappear behind the pine trees. I'm the force behind this decision, but God, how I need elbow room after a lifetime of following them around the world.

My hand floats to my back pocket making sure my notebook is still there. It is, of course. After a year of kissing my bum, it wouldn't dare escape the comfortable groove worn into my pants. Still, I shove it back down so it won't creep out. A warm excitement pixelates in my chest when I think about all the scary things I've written down in those pages.

Make the type of friends who will laugh with you until you cry or cry with you until you laugh.

Stay up all night long binging Netflix with my roommate.

Give a speech.

Enter a debate.

Be a math tutor.

Fail at something and pick myself up again.

My heart kicks into overdrive. I gaze up at Brockmore Hall in awe. Its great shadow spreads over the driveway, and age has colored the building's stonework, cracks squiggling through the condensed minerals, yet it still stands, like an unbreakable fortress.

Brockmore is designed to place its students in Ivy League colleges. Launch a teenager on the road to becoming the next president of the United States. Not that I want to be POTUS, but I wouldn't mind a little boost for getting into an Ivy League school. Brockmore's name alone should do wonders for my college application, but I'll need to give more of myself to the school if I want to stand out. I've stared at my college applications for the last year with no answers to questions like, "What life experiences have offered you leadership opportunities?" Brockmore is my chance to find the answers.

A cramp in my wrist travels up the tendons in my arm. Oh. I release my fist, letting blood return. Probably best not to walk into the school this way. I should look like I'm at least open to having some fun before the weight of academia hits my shoulders.

I cycle through pranayama breath just as my yoga instructor in New Delhi taught me, syncing my energy to the fresh-cut grass beneath my ballet flats.

This is it, Edel. It's time to start living.

"Watch out!" A voice jolts me out of my meditation. A red motorbike skids toward me. The screech of the breaks makes my teeth vibrate. The bike jets out from under the rider, and suddenly I'm horizontal, pinned beneath the guy.

A fierce heat stings my cheek.

"Are you all right?" The guy's voice is deep. He flips open the visor of his helmet and gazes down with dark-chocolate eyes. If I look closely, swirling flecks of gold dance within the brown. Absolutely intoxicating.

The guy coughs, and I blink to break free of his pull. "Hey. You okay?" he asks.

Only the searing pain on my cheek brings me back to reality. My fingertips feather over the wound and poke at the hot and mushy mess that used to be my skin. When I pull my fingers back, they're coated in red.

Blood. Who cares about the hot guy? I'm bleeding!

"What is it?" He reaches under me, supporting my head off the ground. "You're going to be okay." His lips part into a blazing Hollywood smile. "It's pizza sauce."

Pizza?

"Are you hurt anywhere else?" He waits until I give him a nice shake of my head. But the answer must not have been good enough. "Is it okay if I check?" He eyes me, waiting for my permission.

My processing feels numb, so I nod. He'll do a better job than me at this point.

The tawny-brown skin of his hand warms my pale arms as he slides his palms over my wrist, my elbow, checking my bones in gentle squeezes. Everything there feels normal. Same with the other arm. A satisfying lack of tingling or numbness results from a quick wiggle of my fingers and toes. The only notable injury is to my clothing—marinara sauce splattered all over me.

"Well, when in Rome..." He peels a slice off my linen pants, handing it to me.

I hold the fluffy wedge smothered in Colby-Jack. This is nothing like the pizza I'm used to from Rome.

"Get it while it's hot, girl." He laughs, and the energy in his voice cracks me open. "Now, there's a smile."

Not wanting to appear uptight, I take a nibble. The salt is shocking, but then the smooth texture of the cheese melts like butter on my tongue. Whoa.

"Good, right?" The guy takes a seat next to me on the grass, flicking the pizza box open with his shoe to see how many pieces remain.

"Are you the delivery guy?" I ask, setting my piece down on the cardboard. Doesn't make sense to eat before the opening banquet tonight.

"She speaks!" He bites into the crust with a curt nod. "You could say that. What's your name?"

"Edelweiss."

A smile spreads across his face, and he tilts his head to the right, looking at me oddly.

"Admittedly, it's a unique name." I shrug. "Most people call me Edel."

"Like the singer, Adele?"

I nod, nudging the smashed pizza box with my toe. It never occurred to me that my name would be too weird for school, but suddenly a wave of doubt washes over me.

"I like it. We don't have any Edels here. It's pretty." He tosses his slice aside and jumps up to assess his motorbike. There's a dent in the front fender where it met the pavement.

Losing transportation could mean losing a job—one of Dad's signature life lessons chimes in my mind. Oh please let it still work. "I'm sorry about your bike."

"I nearly run you over, and you're sorry about the bike?" A dimple, high up on his left cheek, imprints with his grin.

"I'm not messed up like that fender. What if it isn't working?"

He revs the engine, his broad shoulders blocking out the setting orange sun. "Roars like a lion. Don't worry about it."

The bell over the entrance to Brockmore Hall rings. Dinner. My chest fights to expand. Other than my roommate, who I met during my campus tour this morning, I'll know no one at my table.

"So is this for the dinner tonight?" It's a stupid thing to say, because obviously they'd need like forty more boxes to feed the school, but I don't want him to leave. I like his dimple, and I want to see if I can get a peek at it one more time.

"Nope." He looks up at the giant clock above the two oak doors. "Six already? Crap!" He stashes his motorbike in the bushes and plucks the box of pizza off the grass.

"But dinner starts at six? It's six right now." I spin to follow him. What's the issue?

"Yes, but even if we bolt we won't make it until 6:03, and in the headmistress's book, that's as good as failing. Come on." He reaches out, takes my hand, and drags me up the steps. My skin tingles when the warmth of his palm presses against mine.

Inside, he directs me down the main corridor back toward the computer lab. Or, what I think is the computer lab. Maybe it's the student services office. "Why are we going this way?"

"Get caught walking in late? Not wise." His fingers tighten, then we take a right down the hall that leads to the grand stairway. I will my palms not to sweat as every nerve ending that touches his skin dances with the warmth of his hand. A gentle warmth crawls up my chest and up my neck. This is the first time I've ever held hands with a guy who wasn't my father. It can't always be this spectacular, can it?

"Watch out for the step," he warns. When I glance down to take the step up into the adjoining hallway, my marinara-covered pants scream at me to come to my senses. I can't meet everyone at Brockmore like this!

"No, wait. I need to change." I stop near the grand stairway, picking at the red stains. "People are going to think I've been stabbed."

"Trust me. Being stabbed is better than being late, in Creighton's book." He shakes his head and leads me forward, his other hand briefly brushing my back. The pizza box he carries wobbles a bit, yet his hand remains there. He leads me past the grand stairway down the next corridor and then presses a large panel of woodwork along the wall. A deep creak, and the wood reveals a concealed door.

"Is she really that bad?" The headmistress seemed so patient in the office with my parents, far from a strict dictator.

"She's tolerable, but pissing off the headmistress isn't the best way to start the school year." He holds open the door. "Coming?"

Getting in trouble the first day could mark me for the entire semester. He's right. The last thing I need is to piss off administration before the year even starts.

I sigh in defeat as I step up into the small passageway. The space is long, twisty, and dark. He lights the way with his cell phone, and after we take a left turn, we have to shimmy past a butler cart.

"Should we be down here?" I'm forced to jog every few steps to keep up with his athletic pace.

"Absolutely not," he says over his shoulder. "That's part of the fun though, isn't it?" His dimple pops again when he laughs, his step picking up a bounce. He's loving every moment of this, and here I am fearing expulsion with each step. We run twenty more feet before he pauses at a thin, wooden door. He touches a finger to his lips then he pushes it open a crack. I peer in at a sea of students surrounding linen-covered tables.

"How well do you handle pressure?" he whispers.

"Umm."

His eyebrow lifts as he assesses me. I must have done something right, because eventually he nods. "You'll be fine. Just stay quiet." He gives my hand a squeeze before stepping into the dining hall, pulling me behind him before I can bolt back down the corridor.

Tap, tap. The headmistress touches the microphone at the podium, unaware of our presence a few feet behind her. "Welcome to another year at Brockmore Academy. Your success starts now!" She says the school slogan with such gusto, pumping her fist into the air and receiving nothing more than a few claps from teachers at the back table.

Everyone else is staring at us.

We are so screwed. What was I thinking following a random guy in this way? This is going to get me in way more trouble than arriving a few minutes late. I should have walked in late and cashed in my new kid get-out-of-jail-free card. Now all those teachers probably think I'm trouble.

A few teachers lift their eyebrows, but this guy only has to hold up one finger and give a gentle shrug to get them to return their attention to the podium.

With a gentle pull, he directs me toward the long buffet table along the right wall, sliding the pizza box underneath and following it.

My heart crashes into my ribs as I duck under the tablecloth.

Headmistress Creighton continues. "This will be another exciting year. We've added more collegiate prep classes and requirements. Our technology building received another upgrade, and we're welcoming a new football coach, Mr. Davvy, a retired player from the Green Bay Packers."

The room roars, and the speed crawler in front of me stops to join in the noise.

"Seriously? Are you trying to get caught?" I whisper harshly while the noise still echoes off the wall.

"Are you?" For a flickering second, his eyes tighten into a glare. Then his expression smooths into a lopsided smile.

"Would you like to say a few words, Mr. Davvy?"

"Yes, thank you, headmistress," Mr. Davvy says. "I'm honored to be your new head coach. We're going to work long and hard to bring you a Bears' victory!" The room erupts into cheers.

My challenger doesn't miss a beat, sliding the pizza box underneath another buffet table a few feet away and tugging me along with him. We crawl to the next buffet while everyone's attention is turned toward the podium. A few students seated nearby snicker.

"Quicker," he says.

"I'm doing my best." My knees burn as they speed over the short-cut carpet. "This is ridiculous, isn't it? My God. I'll never get elected to the student council if we're caught like this."

He pauses, whipping his head around. "Student council? You're joking, right? I'd have pegged you for a cheerleader."

"I don't jump." My words carry the emphasis of bricks. My hands wouldn't feel right holding a pair of pom-poms.

He laughs. "You could try. You'd look cute in the uniform."

"Hell, no." I narrow my eyes. Back off, dude.

He doesn't notice. Instead, he presses his cheek to the ground to glance under the tablecloth as he listens to the speech. He holds up three fingers, counting down until the room erupts in cheers, then darts out from under the tablecloth.

The applause ends right as he disappears.

Total abandonment. If I go now, I'm caught. Shit!

Well, at least I'll have something both funny and horrible to tell my parents. I bet I'm the only kid in this school whose parents care more about living life than they do a 4.0.

I push my back up against the wall and pull up my knees so my toes can't be seen. Hopefully this speech doesn't take an hour.

Headmistress Creighton's voice rambles on about the importance of academic pursuit and academic honesty when suddenly a cheesy jazz song cuts into her speech.

Why is there elevator music?

I shift down, peering out from under the tablecloth. Nothing seems amiss, but every student is laughing, staring at the television screens that pepper the dining room.

Headmistress Creighton's face is red. She taps the podium, eyes raised at the guy behind the computer in the back of the room. "Shall we continue?"

The television responds, flashing a grassland scene where two prairie dogs are mating.

The headmistress waves to the teachers in the back of the crowd. "Turn off the screens," she shouts over the sleazy music.

One teacher, a petite older woman, rises and leans over the dude behind the laptop. She crosses her arms, studying the screen with a grin. "Someone intercepted our server and created a remote access and control point," she shouts back to the headmistress. "Brilliantly done, I might add."

The headmistress tosses her hands in the air and leaves the stage.

This is my chance! I duck out from under the table, searching the crowd for my roommate, Tuti.

"Edel!" her voice rings out, and finally I see her, sitting only a few tables away from me. She's changed out of the little blue dress she was wearing when I first met her, accidently interrupting the makeup tutorial shoot for her YouTube channel. First Day of School Look, I think she said? Either way, now she's got on a cute pair of skinny jeans and a flowy top, with remarkably less makeup.

"What are you thinking?" She pats the empty chair next to her.

"I have a better question." The redhead across the table raises her eyebrows. "What are you doing with James Parson?"

"That's James Parson?" My lips part. Colonel Parson's son. Why didn't he tell me? He had to know who I was!

"You know him?" Her eyes grow wide.

"I know of him," I say. "Anyway, I'm Edel."

"Charlotte," she says firmly. The jazz music returns, as do the mating prairie dogs.

"I'm sorry, what's happening?"

A girl with a sharply cut dark-brown bob giggles next to Charlotte, peeking up from behind her cell phone. "That's also James," she says with a sneaky smile. "And I'm Ainsley."

"He's doing this?" I glance over at his table. All the guys around him howl with laughter while he sits serene, sipping his water. "How?"

"No one knows how he does it, but we all know it's him. He must be a programming genius or something," Charlotte says.

Ainsley rolls her eyes and returns to her phone.

My skin prickles, watching her break one of the biggest rules they emphasized at orientation this morning. No phones in classes or during assemblies. I'd assume Headmistress Creighton would not be okay with her phone being out right now.

"How do you know James?" Tuti asks.

"I don't. Our fathers know each other. We'd never met. Hell, I'd never even seen his picture." Trust me. If I had, I would have been far too nervous to come to this school. For some reason, I'd pictured James as some wiry kid who liked to look at issues of old engineering magazines in the library, not the type of guy whose muscles might outnumber his brain cells.

I sigh, pushing aside the jock stereotype that he clearly doesn't fit, and probably no one does, for that matter. On the ride over from the hotel this morning, Mom told me James will likely be going to West Point, and last year one of his short stories was published in a literary magazine.

"None of that matters. All she needs to know is to stay away from James Parson: every girl's first rule of survival at Brockmore." Charlotte raises her eyebrows, glancing over at James.

"Is he mean?" None of this fits the picture my parents painted about this guy.

"No, but his girlfriend is wicked. Emma has some major issues."

"She's not his girlfriend." Ainsley doesn't even look up from her phone while she interjects.

"Technically, they are undefined," Charlotte clarifies.

"They're the definition of 'it's complicated.'" Tuti nods two tables over to a leggy blonde with long, beachy curls. She's the only one in the room not smiling. Her gaze shifts, zeroing in on me.

"You're doomed." Charlotte pops a piece of gum in her mouth. "Bad luck, babe."

I glance back at Emma. She narrows her eyes briefly, then she tosses her hair over her shoulder while turning her back toward me.

"This is ridiculous." I slide my chair out to go talk with her. What a silly misunderstanding. If they'd just act like adults, they'd see how trivial they're being. Communication is everything. As a daughter of a diplomat, I can't bear letting this spin out of hand because I let assumptions lead the way.

"What are you doing?" Tuti grabs my arm.

"This all has an easy fix." My chair squeaks as I stand, and I swear Charlotte hisses at me.

"Sit down if you want to live," she says.

Really? My God, this place is dramatic. "I'll be fine, I promise."

The girl sitting across from Emma points to me as I walk toward her. Emma turns her head over her shoulder, glaring. For a second, I reconsider, as there's almost a death-defying fire in her eyes that makes me want to run. The knot inside the joint of my thumb begs me to pop it. Then one of Mom's cliché phrases rings through my mind, the one she always said when I used to be nervous about meeting new people. We all have common ground. We just have to discover it.

The thought carries me the next five feet, and I reach out my hand. "Hi, I'm Edel. I'm new here."

"Yes, my room is a few doors down from yours. I saw you with your parents on the tour." She lifts her eyebrows at my extended hand, pausing a moment before she takes it. Her shake is so weak it's almost like she's afraid of me. Or maybe she's afraid I'll get pizza sauce on her.

"Since we're neighbors, I thought it'd be nice to introduce myself."

"Okay." She opens her chair to face me more, a universal invitation for conversation.

I bend down next to her chair so only she can hear. I don't want to embarrass her in front of her friends. "Listen, Charlotte and Tuti explained how you and James have a thing."

"A thing?" Her lips part, and she shifts back.

"I'm sorry, I don't mean to offend you. I'm just here to tell you that nothing happened between us. He ran into me with his motorbike and box of pizza, which is why we were late."

"I see." She turns to the girl next to her and whispers. "Well." Her voice lightens when she addresses me. "James does love the pizza in town. He probably was sneaking it in to surprise me with at midnight in my bedroom."

My fingers twinge. Pretty sure during orientation this morning they repeated at least ten times that if a guy or girl gets caught in each other's dorm rooms they will be expelled, and we had to sign a document stating we understood.

She smiles, her teeth brilliantly white and in a perfect line. I run my tongue over my own teeth, wishing I'd done a better job of wearing my retainer at night. She squeezes my hand. "Thank you for confiding in me."

"Well, I didn't want to start out on the wrong foot with a neighbor."

"We're classmates. We should be friends." She sips her water, her smile steady and never faltering.

"Thanks again for understanding."

"My pleasure."

When I return to the table, Tuti has me recite the entire conversation while she passes the breadbasket a server dropped off. "That doesn't sound like Emma," she says.

I curl my legs around the front legs of my chair. "Perhaps you misunderstand her. Speaking directly cleared everything up for me."

"Be careful with her." Tuti picks at a dinner roll. "You've been here less than a day and already you're walking a minefield."

"I'll be fine. I've traveled the entire world and managed not to piss anyone off." I feel a little awkward using my world experience as credentials, but it's all I've got to stand on. It's absurd they think this little event is significant. Now, no access to clean water or education? That's a big deal.

Charlotte looks up from behind the four-inch stack she's made out of pats of butter. "Let's hope there's not another Emma in the world, shall we?"

Tuti lifts her glass. "Amen to that!"

I smile politely, not wanting to get swept up in the conversation. It seems too petty to break a sweat over, especially when I have to remember where the math building is to meet with the teacher for my exam. My first real exam.
Chapter Two

James

The television screen goes live once more, and the mere sight of the prairie dog's face has the freshman boys rolling off their chairs in laughter. My heart pumps as a sweet, almost intoxicating feeling swirls through me while I listen to them howl. No one will forget this. Last year I fumbled with the opening prank. Paying off the assistant chef to hide plastic severed fingers in the tray of sliced roast beef sounded like a good gag but ended up pretty disgusting. Roast beef may never be palatable again.

A flash of blond catches my eye. Edel sweeps her long, straight blond hair so it's only hanging over one shoulder while she sits up in a nearly perfect posture. Impressive. I doubt I could have pulled off an entrance that way and rocked my image like that if those were my first steps into Brockmore. And it's impossible to ignore how her posture only accentuates the curves God gave her.

Dad never mentioned that about Edelweiss Lee.

I glance down at my phone, reading Dad's last text. Ambassador Lee said you weren't on campus. Where were you? You promised to show Edelweiss and her family the campus.

Well, technically I just showed Edelweiss the secret passageway in Brockmore Hall. I'd say that more than makes up for a campus tour. Hell, I even helped her out so Creighton didn't zero in on her on the first day.

We've met. I text back. Don't worry. I gave her a good tour.

A wad of napkin hits me between the eyes. "How are you doing this?" Jordan, a junior, asks from the neighboring table.

"Doing what?" My little shrug with a smirk gives him all the info he needs. Of course I'm behind the prairie-dog stunt. I am behind every prank in this school.

But this is my last hurrah. Well, until the senior prank, but that'll have to be harmless like this video. With it being my senior year, it's too close to graduation to pull anything worthy of expulsion, especially after Dad laid into me this summer.

I gaze down at my phone and tap the screen, sending off a message for the prairie dog to go live again in twenty-eight seconds. The delay is key in not getting caught. I tuck my hands behind my head and glance at Creighton.

Her eyes narrow, studying every move I make. Even my grin won't soften her, a true rarity considering our unique relationship. I open my eyes wide. Seriously, Creighton? It's only a pair of prairie dogs.

That shitty jazz music fills the banquet hall again, resulting in a cacophony of giggles from the nearby table of girls. This prank is golden. I laugh and give Mason a firm slap on the shoulder for good measure.

"Come on, James." Mason's face is so red from laughing he looks like a fire engine. "How'd you pull this one off? First sneaking in with the hot new girl and then this?"

"You're the king, man." Jordan raises his glass. "To James!"

My phone buzzes while I shrug. "Fate brought me the girl, and this?" I nod to the now-dark screens. "This is out of my hands."

Proctor narrows his eyes at my cell, which is buzzing in my palm. "Who are you texting?"

"My sister."

"I thought it was just you and your dad."

"Nope. There's another person out there running rampant with a linked genetic code."

"God save us," Proctor groans. "Older or younger?"

"Do you honestly think I'd let you date my sister?" Never in a million years would that pairing work out. She'd rip his head off, and I can't lose my starting quarterback.

"Whatever. Anyway, Creighton better pull herself together soon and finish this speech so we can eat. Smells like tacos. Hey, I didn't see your dad this afternoon. Who did you come back to school with?"

"He couldn't leave base. Not a big deal. We've had hundreds of good-byes before." My fingers fly over the phone to request a prairie-dog activation in forty-eight seconds.

"Dude, if it wasn't for your dad's photo as the background on your phone, I'm pretty sure I'd suspect you were making him up."

"It's the life of a colonel. Touring my dorm room again and saying good-bye here on campus wouldn't be any different than the three other times we've done it."

"You wouldn't want to see him?" Mason asks.

What a stupid question. Of course I'd like to see him. He's my father. "I can't, so why whine about it? Plus, I don't feel the need to torture him into watching me make my bed and attending that dull parent meeting. A Skype call is much easier."

"Well, is he coming to senior night?" Mason leans back, his chair creaking a protest under his weight.

"Nope." I press my palm flat on the table, trying to cover the void his intricate schedule has made in my gut. School drop-off—he can miss that. But being the only football player without family in the end zone during the ceremony will suck balls.

At least I won't have to field the team's teasing over the difference in our skin color. Proctor still doesn't believe that I'm the biological son of my white, freckled, redheaded father.

My phone vibrates. Ha. Speaking of the colonel. James, whatever you are doing, stop it now! Julie reached out to me and this needs to end.

His message zaps my mouth dry. Oh no.

What is Julie thinking? She knows Dad was one step away from yanking me out of school after the prank I pulled in May. How could she tell him about something so harmless?

I glance over at Creighton, who's staring me down with a magnitude of fury I've never seen before.

Well, here's to royally screwing up. I send out a quick text, End it. Six seconds later the black screens turn on, but instead of the prairie dog we all get the pleasure of staring at the tired navy-blue slide that says Welcome to Brockmore Academy in a handwritten, colonial font.

The math teacher, Ms. Jennison, picks up the microphone from the podium and leads the prayer before the meal, a tradition that Creighton's never forgone.

Come on. A frickin' prairie dog, and she acts like I kicked her in the balls.

"Bon appétit!" The servers lift the silver covers off the serving dishes like a synchronized dance along the serving table. They whisk in a basket of warm honey-oat bread, butter, and a pitcher of sparkling water to each table. Tradition dictates that the senior guys eat last, which is a cruel sort of torture considering we're all always hungry enough to devour a bear.

And that's why I have the pizza. I pull the pizza box out from under the tablecloth with my tennis shoes.

"This is going to take forever." Mason presses his head against the table.

"Don't I always have you guys covered?" I pick out a slice, a little cold but still promising to be damn tasty. "Pre-dinner dinner, anyone?"

Proctor's eyes widen, and he starts drooling before he even reaches for the slice. "You're a saint, you know that, right?"

I hand out the remaining five slices to the guys at my table. "They got a little messed up, but they're still edible."

"You're not having any?"

"Nah. I ate a piece outside." Twenty minutes pass while we watch everyone else in the room grab food.

"James Parson." Creighton's stern voice rattles my spine. The tone is one I've heard only once before and that was when she almost expelled me as a first-year student after I stole Madison High School's mascot. Upon reflection, letting the mule loose in the dining hall wasn't my most brilliant move, but it did receive the attention of the senior football players, who put me in front of the head coach. When I became the first freshman to make varsity in twenty-eight years, they were excited to have me, making the prank worth every Saturday that Creighton kept me in the stables to serve detention.

I now consider myself a professional at mucking out stalls.

"James, first thing in the morning, you will join me in my office. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, ma'am." I slip my phone into my pocket, thankful my associate thought to go through another party for our coding. The last thing I need is for Creighton to snoop around my apps and texts, which—thanks to Dad—she's been granted full authority over.

She is my aunt, after all.

"Six a.m., before football practice." Her finger waggles in my face a little too long before she finally pulls it back. "Feel free to go on up to the buffet now, boys."

We press our lips together, keeping silent as she retreats from our table. Once cleared, we collect our plates and head over to the massive spread of food.

"You didn't even make it an hour, James." Mason punches my shoulder. "Remember you're our captain this year. Coach Davvy will be pissed if Creighton benches you for the first game."

"Or the rest of the season," Proctor mumbles.

They don't know the headmistress is my aunt. No one does, and for that I am still in debt to her. "Don't worry so much."

Maybe I did go too far with this one. I'll swing by her place before curfew and apologize. Straighten this up before Dad wigs out and my entire world gets yanked out from under my feet.

I may complain about Brockmore a lot, but between my bed in Room 321 and the bedroom I have at Julie's, this place is more of a home than I've known most of my life.

Leaving Brockmore before graduation would devastate me.

"James, you're holding up the line." A high-pitched giggle floats over my shoulder.

"Emma." I press my lips together as I pile steak into my tortilla.

"What? No 'hi'? No 'how was your summer?'" She steps in front of Proctor with her plate so she can be right next to me. Her floral perfume somehow masks the scent of the steak.

A true crime.

"You can't still be giving me the silent treatment."

"You cheated on me." I reach over her arm to grab a scoop of guacamole.

"I can't believe you're still mad about that. It was four months ago, and I apologized." She leans in, her fingers feathering out to touch mine.

I step away from her. "Not mad anymore. I'm over it, but I'm not dumb."

Her lower lip juts out, and she pushes out her chest, stepping close.

Last year, I would have glanced down to check her out.

Last year, my knees would have become noodles.

But this year, I swore to myself that I was done with girls like Emma. For two years, we had our little dance, and for two years my life was filled with nothing but drama. I hadn't realized it until our summer apart. But God, it's nice not to have to constantly navigate the complex emotions of that girl and just do my own thing.

Freedom. That's what my senior year is all about.

"I've changed." Her voice is steady and soft. She reaches out, touching my arm. "You have, too. You're stronger."

"Go squeeze Proctor's arm. He spent the entire summer in the gym. I'm sure he'd appreciate the compliment." With a quick turn, I face her toward Proctor.

It does nothing, though. Instead she pouts and looks back at me over her shoulder. "I'll leave my window unlocked tonight, James. Why fight the inevitable?"

She's like a rock in the bottom of my shoe during box jumps. It's like she practices the words of every high school guy's fantasies. Her pull is toxic, but not for me, not after walking into Matt Turner's room last May and finding her on top of him, naked. The experience eradicated every cell in my body that used to find her attractive.

So she's right: I have changed. I'm completely over her.

I peel her fingers off my arm again. "I won't be climbing out or in any windows this year, so don't wait up. Enjoy your meal."

Five minutes later, Victoria turns her chair around and joins our table. "So are you and Emma for real over?" Her brow arches while she plucks a grape off my plate, popping it into her mouth.

My hand hovers over my plate, protecting my food. When will girls realize that taking food from a guy is not cute? "We're through."

Her curls brush against my arm as she leans in. "Maybe we can hang out sometime?"

"Remind me, who's your co-captain for the cheerleading squad, Victoria?" The fallout of Emma snagging a co-captain position for this year—as only a junior—rocked the top of school drama for about a week last May. Victoria was livid about sharing her spotlight.

She laughs. "There's nothing wrong with a little competition."

"Did she send you over here?"

"Like I'd listen to her." Victoria draws her finger along her jawline, tempting me.

Nope, nope, nope. I focus on the edge of the tablecloth. I will not be that type of guy anymore. Not after what Dad said to me last May. Get serious, he said. Or else you can kiss Brockmore good-bye.

She strums her fingers on the table. "Emma hates me. My jumps will always be better than hers."

"I'd like to see you jump, Vickie." Mason leans back in his chair with a grin. "I'll hang out."

She feigns a gag. "In your dreams, Mason."

"Every night, baby."

"Excuse me." I pluck my half-full plate off the table and duck out the back door to the patio. Outside there's a group of sophomore girls whose eyes glue to me while I take a seat on the bench to finish my frickin' burrito.

God help me.
Chapter Three

Edelweiss

My eyes flicker up from my map to the building with the giant bell where I'll be taking my first English class tomorrow morning. Brockmore's brick academic buildings and white limestone library border a large grassy space they call the quad. Already students trail to and from the library, clutching their laptops to their chests with a strained expression. Either they are too eager to jump into homework, or they are cramming in their summer reading essays before the night is done.

"Lost?" A guy with light-blond hair leans against the wall of the mathematics building. "Need some help?" He grins, peeling himself off the brick and walking over.

"Not lost. Just new." I extend my hand and give his a firm shake. "Hi, I'm Edel."

"Jace." He glances over my shoulder, stepping closer to get a peek at my map. "I can show you around if you want."

"I was just heading inside." Bummer. Where was he an hour ago?

"You're the girl who just snuck into the banquet hall with James, right?"

"Yes." My hand twitches, popping my thumb joint. Will I forever be known as that girl?

"Are you two...?" A lift of his right brow finishes the sentence.

"Oh God, no. I barely know him."

"Well good." He grins, then flashes his perfectly straight teeth. "So, you're the new junior?"

My fingers wrap tightly around the strap of my messenger bag as he takes a step closer. "You guys don't get new students very often, do you?"

"It's not so rare, but you're worth remembering. An ambassador's daughter, correct?"

I nod, folding my map, hoping the crinkle of paper will distract him from the heat on my cheeks. Ugh. The last thing I wanted was for everyone to know I was new. I had hoped to transition in unnoticed.

He shakes his head with a grin. "So, I was thinking of watching a movie tonight in one of the study rooms. Want to come?"

"A movie? Yeah!" That'd allow me to check off hanging out with peers from my list. It's ridiculous that it's even on there, but whatever. "Let me go get my roommate, Tuti, and we'll meet you there soon."

He chuckles. "No. Not with Tuti. Just you and me."

Oh.

...Ooh.

Wow. I walked right into that one. There's no way I'm foolish enough to lock myself in a room with a guy I've only known for twenty-eight seconds. "Um, tonight won't work."

"Edel!" A familiar voice floats over the quad from behind me. I spin around to catch Emma skipping down the stairs with a wave. The sunset makes her wavy blond hair glow. "There you are! I've been looking everywhere for you." She narrows her eyes at Jace. "Seriously? Don't prey on her."

He shrugs, slipping away as slyly as he came.

"Thanks," I whisper once he's gone.

"He's scum. The next time he tries to hit on you, flick him off and keep walking. Jace is too lazy to try to keep up."

"Got it."

She grins, biting her lower lip. "Thanks for what you said at dinner about you and James. Most people aren't so honest. I admire it."

I nod politely while I study her. She seems like she means it, her eyes steady and both feet pointed right at me while we talk, yet goose bumps flash down the back of my arms.

"You okay?" she asks, giving my shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

What am I thinking? She did just get rid of Jace for me. The shiver is probably because I'm so nervous about class tomorrow.

"Yup. I'm fine."

"Good." She removes her hand and links her thumb through her belt loop. "Anyway, I bet you'd like a little help getting back to your dorm. I remember my first week on campus as a freshman. I was so lost! The layout of Brockmore Hall is like a maze. Plus, I bet a hot shower would be heaven right now, huh?"

Red stains still smear my clothing. I was so nervous about knowing my route for tomorrow morning that I forgot to change.

She winds a strand of hair around her finger while studying the stains on my pants. "That should come out in the laundry if you cycle it with hot water."

Doesn't hot water set a stain? "Ugh, I'll try that, thanks."

"Anyway, we have amazing shower heads here. The spray pounds into your shoulders, and you just melt, like a spa."

"I think this was the first ever pizza spa experience. These oil marks have destroyed my clothes."

Her light, bubbly giggle makes me grin. "I'll show you how to get back to your room and give you an official tour on the way." She waves to her friends in one of the study alcoves as we pass, then rattles on about the school, giving me the real details that matter, like the best places for cell phone reception, where all the different cliques hang out, and shortcuts to avoid passing Headmistress Creighton's office, since being caught out of class earns you a day mucking out the stables.

Once up the grand stairway, she leads me to the girls' wing of the dormitory. All the rooms down the upper-class female hall have signs on their doors featuring girls' names in glitter paint. Charlotte's and Ainsley's also have paper flowers.

Wow. Everyone really went all out in the hour after dinner while I walked the grounds. Why didn't I pay attention? I missed a great opportunity to get to know these girls.

Our door is bare, though. Tuti must have been gone, too, so at least I'll be able to tackle the project with her later tonight.

Emma leans up against the wall. "Why don't you grab your things, and I'll show you the showers?"

"You don't have to do that. I remember—down the second hallway to the left, right?"

"Actually, you'll find the water and ice machines with that turn. Bathrooms are in the far back."

I scrunch up my face, trying to remember the zigzag layout of the dorms.

"Don't worry about it, I'll show you."

"Cool." I duck inside my room. The air is stale and stuffy so I rush to the window and open it. Wouldn't want Emma thinking we smelled like boys if she happens to step in. I turn on the overhead light, and I swear it's dimmer than earlier today. Must have lost a lightbulb. Better call maintenance after my shower. Wait, first I'll check with Tuti to see if she already called, because it's obvious she's been in here since dinner. She decorated her bed with a few of the saris she had hung in her closet earlier this afternoon. My side looks a little dull, but at least my quilt is beautiful.

I wrestle with my dresser drawer to free a ratty old tank top and a pair of yoga pants. When I open the door with my towel, clothing, and shower caddy in hand, Emma chuckles. "Honey, you don't need the outfit. We're all girls here, right? Your PJs will get wet in the shower. There's no place to put them. Leave them here, wrap a towel around yourself, and bring your caddy. Us girls always joke that if you come to Brockmore as a prude, you'll leave hoping to start a nudist colony." She laughs. "Thank goodness we have strict access codes so the boys can't even sneak a peek onto our side." Emma shoos me back into the room with a playful swat to my thigh. "I'll wait for you, don't worry."

A nudist colony? Walking around naked isn't something I do outside of my own room, ever, but I also don't want to make a big deal about all this. I'm here to experience high school, right? I pop out my thumb as I slide off my clothing and tug my XL towel around myself. The soft terrycloth covers everything from my chest past my bum, but given my luck, I'll probably make a wrong turn and end up on the wrong side of the dormitory door, so I keep my bra and underwear on. I unhook my straps though, shoving them down into the towel so I don't have to explain my paranoia to Emma.

"Ready?" She pops her head in.

"Yup."

"Follow me." On the way to the showers, she asks me about the places I've lived, sharing that she's spent summers in London, Rome, and Paris. "They don't do air conditioning like they do here," she sighs. "It was always too hot."

I try out my own version of a chatty giggle. Our laughter echoes off the cinderblocks. "The air here feels like heaven compared to what I'm used to. I had no idea what I was missing living without air conditioning."

"Oh, I can't even imagine surviving in the places you've lived."

I shrug. "They may be hot, but they're beautiful. I've loved every place my parents have taken me."

Emma swings open the bathroom door. "I'm sure you have. Anyway, enjoy your shower. You deserve it after all your trips around the world."

I find a shower stall with a dry floor midway down the row. It was so nice of Emma to go out of her way to help me. This is all going so much better than I expected. Mom will be thrilled when I tell her I've already made a friend.

Damn, it sounds so pathetic to think that way, but I don't have many long-term friends at all. It was me, my parents, and the environment around us. It was rare that I got to hang out with the same group of kids for more than a few months at a time.

I unsnap my bra and slide off my underwear, then set them on the bench in the first section of the stall suite. The privacy of these showers is one of the main reasons I liked Brockmore Academy the most. Communal showering would not have worked for me.

The iron rings scrape against the rod when I pull the curtain back to step into the showering area with my caddy. It takes a few moments for the shower to heat up, but when it does, I can't help but sigh. Emma was right. The warm stream of water massages my shoulders. I've taken too many cool showers in my life. I crank up the heat as I turn around, and I swear the muscles in my back soften, a perfect prescription after being rammed by a motorbike.

The bathroom door squeaks loudly, and someone's flip-flops smack against the damp floor. I grab my luffa and bodywash, speeding up. A lot of girls will probably want to shower before classes in the morning. The girl hums a low tune, almost a true tenor.

The door opens again. I rinse off, shampoo, and condition in under two minutes before the masses arrive. Don't want to be known as the girl who used up all the hot water.

"Hey," a low voice says sharply. My pink luffa slips out of my hands to the floor.

There's no way a girl's voice could be that baritone. "I heard a rumor a girl is in here." The voice is undisputedly male. How did a guy get in here? Of course there's a girl in here. It's the girls' bathroom!

Footsteps patter toward my shower stall. I freeze, my nakedness taunting me. I cover what I can, taking a deep breath and forcing myself to take two steps to face the back corner.

"Naw, that's my shower prepping, man." The front stall door outside of my curtain opens and closes, a pair of huge guy feet poke under my curtain.

An additional g-force tanks my stomach through the floor.

This is the boys' bathroom!

A hushed whisper follows with a tap on the curtain. "Up on the bench." His hand jets through the curtain, handing over my towel, bra, and underwear.

I snatch them up like they're a lifeguard's ring. Emma lied to me! I scrub the towel over me, frantically slip on my undergarments, and wrap the towel corset-tight.

"On the bench if you don't want to get caught."

I clutch my towel, carefully stepping on the small bench. It's not more than six inches wide and looks like a place designed to hold shower caddies, not 135 pounds of bones, flesh, and soul.

It's challenging to squeeze myself up there, but I make it. As I do, I brush against the curtain, and my heart does a flip-flop when I recognize James, wearing only gym shorts. I pull my eyes away, but not before noticing a tattoo on his shoulder.

Death lies on her like an untimely frost

Upon the sweetest flower in all the field

My throat tightens while reading the Shakespeare quote, and a memory I'd long forgotten of my parents mentioning James's tragic birth grips my heart. When he entered the world, his mother exited.

How could I have forgotten?

"Parson! What have you got going on in here? Or, maybe better I ask, who?" A voice of authority booms off the tiled walls, shaking me back to my senses. Right now is not the time to pity James or get too emotional. This is about survival.

"Mr. Davvy, hey, in here. What's up?" The latch on the stall door clinks. "It's just my water, man." The curtain shakes, then slowly James pulls it back so Mr. Davvy can view the empty shower stall, leaving just enough curtain to cover me up.

I suck in my belly, holding a steady breath.

"Sorry to make such a brash assumption, son. You know I'm required to check when these sorts of rumors roll in."

"Don't sweat it, coach. We're good."

The diminishing smack of sneakers on the tile and the sound of the swinging bathroom door are heaven to my ears.

"So," James says with a chuckle on the other side of the curtain. "How does a girl like you end up in the boys' bathroom?"

"Emma told me she'd show me the showers." My face burns while I say it, realizing how foolish I was for not heeding Tuti's warning. Of course they also told me to avoid James, and—well—here I am.

"She can be a little mischievous sometimes."

"Is this one of the reasons you like her?"

Self-assured laughter follows. "Who says I like her?"

"Everyone I met at dinner tonight."

"We used to be a thing last year, but it broke off before the summer." He taps against the tile of the stall. "She's not worth talking about. What we need to worry about is getting you out of here."

"Right." The grip of my towel loosens so I grasp it tighter and turn my back to him, even though a curtain separates us.

"Well, do you want help getting out of here, or what?" He tugs on the curtain.

"Is there a way out?" I squeak.

"There is."

"Thank God."

"I wouldn't thank God quite yet. The only way out is not exactly approved for child safety." He chuckles again, and I like it. His laughter is gentle, like waves brushing over the sand on a hot day. Soothing. Reassuring.

"Maybe being caught is better? We can tell them the truth—that I was tricked and you were trying to help me."

"No one will believe us with our late appearance at dinner tonight and my lengthy track record. Being discovered here will land you in expulsion territory. Actually, it'll land us both there."

Even my lips begin to tremble. Expulsion? I haven't even been here twenty-four hours and this place has chewed me up. Mom and Dad's plane left an hour ago. Where will I stay if I get kicked out? "Will you really help me?"

"We need to move quick. Everyone's going to be in here soon, which will make it pretty hard for me to hide you."

"Right."

He tugs again on the curtain. "You ready?"

"Sure." I turn off the water and pull open the curtain. My face heats but whatever. This underwear set is less revealing than my swimsuits. "What do I need to do?"

He cocks an eyebrow. "How are you with heights?"

"They're tolerable. I took rock climbing classes for a gym credit in Cape Town."

"You'll be thankful you did." He opens the stall, takes my hand, and leads me through the bathroom to the last stall on the left. The moment he latches the stall door, the bathroom door squeaks open again and sandals slap on the wet floor.

My arms shake as another set of footsteps enter. I'm going to get caught!

James's eyes grow wide, and he rubs my upper arm for a split second. "You can't be shaking if you're going to pull this off," he whispers. He motions for me to move beyond the curtain into the showering area. As I pull open the curtain, the light from the setting sun nearly blinds me, pouring in from a small, fogged-glass window in the corner. My throat squeezes in on itself. That can't be my escape plan.

I spin around with a harsh whisper, clutching my wet towel. "You've got to be kidding me. We're three stories up."

"True." He yanks the window open and leans out. "There's an eight-inch ledge, which will be more than enough for your small feet. If I can do this, you can. Walk down five windows to hit the lounge. I'll meet you there and help you in." He sticks his head out and points up to the stonework of Brockmore Hall. "These stones jut out a bit for hand holds. Use them for stability." He cups his hands to boost me.

He's out of his mind. "The entire school will be able to see me if I'm in my underwear scaling a wall!"

"No one's out there right now. They're either chilling in the lounge or crying alone because they're just now realizing that no matter how hard they work they won't be able to finish their summer essays by midnight." He reaches out, touching my wrist. "You've got to get out of here, Edelweiss. This is the only way, trust me. I promised my father, and your father for that matter, that I'd look out for you. Get moving." Those gorgeous dark eyes speak to me on a level his words can't. The way his eyes search my own with those enchanting flecks of gold is like they're asking for access to my soul. "You can do this. I promise."

It's absurd, but I believe him. He's right. Eight inches is plenty of space to walk on. I place my foot in his palm, and he lifts me up. The towel around my middle catches against the wall.

"Sorry, girl. You're going to have to ditch the towel."

I grunt, trying to pull it up with me, but it won't tie tight enough. It's useless.

"Hurry." There's urgency in his voice as the bathroom door opens again. "Guys don't exactly respect privacy."

"Fine." I turn away from him and drop the towel. Thankfully I chose a matching set of solid black underwear and bra this morning.

He gives me a good boost, and I swing my legs out over the window's ledge. "Five windows to the lounge?" I focus on his eyes, ignoring his bare torso and his abs to the best of my ability.

"I'll meet you there."

"James!" Someone whoops as they bang on our stall door.

"Go."

I step out onto the ledge and find a hold on a stone. There's just enough space to allow a good grip, helping my balance. There's a loud squeak as James yanks the window closed behind me.

I press my toes into the ledge to get acquainted, the sun's warmth still pulsing on its surface. A broken branch in a tree becomes my focal point.

You've got this, honey. Mom's key phrase of encouragement seems to blow in the wind. My movements are slow and calculated. Every two feet, a blessed jagged stone provides just enough of a grip for me to move forward, almost like the builders placed them there for this exact purpose.

My fingers grip stonework around the fifth window. "Yes!" I say in a hushed cheer. I peer in, looking for James to open the window, but he's not there yet. Instead, a group of guys with video-game controllers are staring at a giant TV and—of course—Emma and her groupies sit in the corner playing on their phones. I pull back, pressing myself against stone. This will either be the most humiliating or the coolest thing I've ever done.

Too bad this isn't something on my to-do list.

Emma's giggle pierces through the three-paned glass window.

Something in me twists and burns, aching for retaliation. Always choose grace, baby. I take a deep breath at Mom's words. I will not let Emma get the best of me.

So I'm in my underwear. So what? I need to crawl through this window acting like the hottest girl in school, or she'll destroy me. My only defense is utter confidence. One crack and I'm doomed.

I steal another glance through the window, and this time James is walking through the door. Thank God.

He waves at the guys, sauntering toward the window with my towel draped over his shoulder, still shirtless.

All the girls ogle his six pack, and I groan. Way to keep a low profile.

Emma climbs over her friend on the couch and bounds over to him, but he blows past her, coming straight for the window. The way he doesn't even stop to look gives me the strength to put on a show.

If I can pull this off, Emma won't win. I can do this.

I have to do this.

With a wink, he unlatches the window. "Ready?" he mouths.

I give him a thumbs-up, studying him as he lifts the window. "Follow my lead," he whispers. Those deep, chocolate eyes lock into mine and suddenly a gentle calmness overwhelms me.

"Got it."

"Hey, Edelweiss." His voice is loud, and he takes my hand to guide me in through the window. I jump down.

The room gasps, and I force myself to smile, gazing only at James. I sweep my bangs out of my eyes and stand up straight.

He opens my towel and wraps me in it, his arms lingering around me in a close embrace.

"You're killing it," he whispers.

I press my shoulders back to stand tall, and I swear Emma gasps as James touches my lower back.

"Anyone else having a great night?" James asks the room with a giant smile.
Chapter Four

James

I play it cool, studying the unraveling video game on the screen while all the guys worship me with half-opened mouths.

"Watch out for the dudes behind the water tower." I nod to the screen, and Jordan turns just in time to catch five guys blowing him up.

Emma's glare may as well contain lasers. It's too bad she cares so much about who I date, because I haven't put any thought toward her since I broke things off.

"James?" Edelweiss nudges me.

I gaze down at her. So close, her thick eyelashes and naturally blushed cheeks somehow make her more beautiful. I need to get us out of here before we're caught.

"Later guys." I toss out, praying I seem calm. I take Edel's hand like it'll break—the way they do in old movies—to lead her off our little stage.

Tuti jumps up from the bench outside the lounge, arms open to receive her wet roommate. "Are you all right? James texted me."

"Yeah. I'm good." Edel spins around the moment the lounge door shuts, pointing her index finger into my face with a heated glare. "What was that?"

"Umm, I saved you."

"No, you made everyone suspect we were a thing."

I laugh. "Edelweiss, you need to relax. Who cares if they think we fooled around a bit?"

"I do." She pulls her towel tight.

Tuti sighs. "James is right, Edelweiss. Everyone already thinks you guys fooled around because you snuck into dinner late."

"Are you serious?"

She nods. "I've been trying to dispel the rumors all evening, but this." She nods to both of us, her in a towel and me shirtless. "It erases everything I've said."

Edel's jaw drops. "I thought you guys were kidding at dinner about James." She looks over at me. "How many girlfriends have you had?"

"None." I cross my arms.

"Which is exactly his problem." Tuti reaches out and pulls Edelweiss away from me. "He won't commit."

Edelweiss focuses over my shoulder toward the lounge. "So they all think I'm a slut?"

"I wouldn't go that far," I offer. "It shouldn't matter anyway. It's your body, your choice what to do with it."

"All too true. But, yes, they do." Tuti shrugs. "Give it a few days, and it'll blow over. Once they get to know you, they'll redefine you."

"So that's why that guy asked me to watch a movie with him tonight." Edelweiss shakes her head. "God, I was so clueless."

"What guy?" I wasn't kidding when I told Edelweiss I'd promised to look out for her.

"I don't remember." Edelweiss presses her palms into her eyes. "It was something that sounded like Chase, but it wasn't."

"Jace Michaelson." I nearly growl as I say his name. What if she'd said yes? That guy's got to be the horniest kid in the junior class. There's no way I'll let Edelweiss near him if I can help it. "Surprised he even let you out of the conversation, to be honest."

Edelweiss winces. "Emma sort of sent him off. Told me to stay away from him."

Tuti adjusts her hair, miraculously transforming it from a ponytail into a knot on top of her head with only a pencil. "Well, if there's ever proof that Emma isn't heartless, there it is. At least she protected you from Jace."

"It's hard to be thankful for that when she tricked me into a situation that could've gotten me expelled," Edelweiss mumbles.

"It's better than being alone with Jace. He smells like he did eighty-two takes of an Axe Body Spray commercial." Tuti wraps her arms around Edelweiss's shoulders, giving her a hug. "It's all going to work out, Edel. I promise."

I step up. "Forget about Emma. She's just jealous because I paid attention to you today and blew her off."

The lounge door behind us squeaks open. "Tuti?" Jordan sticks out his head. "Betcha can't beat me at Grand Theft Auto IV."

"You okay?" Tuti asks Edelweiss.

"Go play," she says. "I'll be fine."

With Tuti gone, the hallway feels larger. Admittedly, I've never stood idly next to a girl in a towel. My hands don't know what to do with themselves.

"Listen," Edelweiss tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "This is going to sound weird, but bear with me."

"Shoot."

"I noticed at dinner that girls kept bothering you. You even moved outside. Is that normal for you?"

Moving outside to get away from girls? No. Definitely not normal. This whole not-dating thing is going to be way more challenging than I imagined. But I can't tell her that.

I slide my hands into my pockets. "Now that I moved on from Emma, it seems I'm like a light for bugs."

"Really, bugs?" She scrunches up her nose. "Please don't tell me you're the type of guy who lumps insects and women into the same category."

"Sorry. Poor choice of words."

"Do you like the attention?" She cocks her head to the side, gazing at me. Her blue eyes are brilliant yet soft.

"I'm not gay, if that's what you're thinking."

"That's clear to me, don't worry." She laughs. "I mean, do you like having girls around? Every time I looked at you tonight, you seemed annoyed."

"I was. My senior year needs to be low key so I can focus on graduating. My dad has high expectations for me this year."

"Well," she takes a deep breath. "What if you dated me?"

Her? I laugh before I can stop myself. "Sorry. I mean, we just met."

"I know, but if we dated—not even for real, just like, fake dating—it'd solve our problems. Girls would leave you alone, and I could have some time to figure out the social climate around here without guys hitting on me. Figure out who is a friend and who I should avoid. Plus, my mom will be thrilled if I have a boyfriend. I think she cares more about me having that experience than my GPA."

"I..." I step back, raising my eyebrows.

"You said you were here to help me. I don't know how I'll ever get stable feet here at Brockmore as Emma's target without your help."

"Are you serious?"

"Yes." She shrugs. "It's like a business deal. This way I won't have to try navigating dating here, which I'm obviously not ready for, and you can have a secure, drama-free relationship that will allow you to focus on school, make our parents happy, and keep other girls from distracting you."

"Listen, it's not that you aren't pretty but..." My words can't find their way off my tongue. How do you reject a girl who is offering a fake relationship?

She grins lightly and punches in the code to access the girls' dormitory. "Forget I said anything. It was just a thought."

"Most girls don't approach me off just a thought. It's always calculated."

"That must be exhausting for you to navigate. Anyway, good night, James. Thanks for your help." She pulls the door shut behind her, leaving me alone and shirtless in the middle of the corridor.

Better get dressed before I get a warning. I retreat to my room and toss on an undershirt. For the first time ever I have nothing to do. Usually my first night back at Brockmore is spent tossing down lazy responses to the summer reading essays, but I finished my essays a month ago.

I wasn't kidding about turning things around this year. Now if only I hadn't done that prairie-dog prank this evening. Temptation always wins with me. One last hurrah is too good to turn my back on.
Chapter Five

Edelweiss

The click of the lock breaks me. I leave my lights off in case Tuti comes barreling in and toss myself onto my bare mattress. Why didn't I trust my instincts about the hallway and bedroom feeling different? I can't believe I was naïve enough to let Emma trick me into thinking my bedroom was in the guys' dorm. Knowing my quilt lies snug on some random guy's bed makes my stomach turn over.

Today has been a disaster.

I pull out my journal from my nightstand, combing through my list. Escaping the boys' bathroom certainly never made the list, and all the regular things that did, like make new friends, took a major step back today.

I bet Tuti's already putting in her request to switch rooms after the drama I've dragged into her life today.

How could I let this happen? My day was supposed to be filled with awkward getting-to-know-you conversations and putting my best foot forward in front of the administration. A day filled with proof that I don't need Mom or Dad to hold my hand. And now? I gaze down at my laptop, placed on the floor in the spot where my dresser once stood. All I want to do is Skype Mom to hear that everything will be all right.

Except I know the moment I mention James and how he snuck me into school and rescued me from the boys' shower, her mind will spin into Loveland. She'll suddenly be squealing for my dad so I can share the story a second time. Then she'll overanalyze every expression I make, becoming firmly set on the idea that James is supposed to be my first boyfriend.

She'll say my day was perfect and won't hear my disappointment. Not a drop.

The air in this room is heavy, pressing down on my shoulders and demanding acknowledgment for the suckitude of the day. No, I can't call her yet.

A burn feathers in my chest. James must think I'm so desperate after I asked him to be my boyfriend.

Well, my fake boyfriend.

He's probably in the lounge right now telling everyone I begged him to date me. He's obviously one of the most popular guys at Brockmore. A few words from his mouth will cause more harm to my reputation than anything Emma could do to me.

What was I thinking? James may not even be on my side. I could have just given my enemy ammo. He owes me no loyalty just because our fathers know each other.

How could my parents teach me nothing about being a teenager? They made sure I had the opportunity to walk through the Hiroshima Peace Memorial while I studied World War II, but they kept me tucked under their wing so close that I don't even know how to make it through one day of school.

None of this feels like the opportunity I'd hoped for. My energy winds itself deep into my chest and a sense of urgency to protect myself overwhelms me. Time to keep my cards close. To be slow to speak and listen longer than necessary in order to figure out this place.

The lock of the door jingles. My fingers wipe the dampness off my cheeks before Tuti throws on our light. She glances over at the empty spot where my dresser once stood.

I glance at her closet, where she initially hung her saris. "They took your saris too. I'm sorry."

"Don't worry about it. It's not the first time Emma's stolen my stuff." She slips off her white Converse shoes and tucks them under her desk chair. "You okay?"

"Yup. I'm good." I pick up my phone, and before I can even turn it on she cocks her head to the side and plucks it out of my palm.

"We're having none of that tonight. Don't you dare tell me you're fine. If what happened to you today happened to me? My gawd. I'd be a sobbing mess. Cut your act, Edelweiss. You can't tell me you don't need to talk about this."

My cheeks flicker, giving my fake smile away.

"Edelweiss, I'm not like Emma." She leans up against her bed. There's a softness in her eyes that reminds me of my mother. "Please don't shut me out because Emma is a prat. I was really looking forward to getting to know you."

"I want to know you, too. Really." I swing my legs over the side of my bed and tug my towel taut. "Where are you from?"

She laughs, her brow arching. "I'm American, if that's what you mean."

My face burns in a flash. Actually, that's not what I meant, but of course the question would come off that way given I'm white and she's of East Indian descent. I've traveled enough to know that being a certain race does not necessarily represent where you were born. "I'm sorry. I could have phrased that better. I meant more along the lines of are you from Chicago? San Francisco? Texas?"

"Seattle, actually." A gentle rose hints her cheeks. "I'm used to fielding the 'where are you from' question differently. Truth is, I've only been to India twice."

"Funny." I pull my fingers through my hair. "I lived in Delhi for two years, but if people ask where I'm from, I'm most likely to say South Africa. That's where I lived the longest and have the most memories. I've eaten more chakalaka and pap in my life than macaroni and cheese."

"But where are you from?" she teases.

"Born in Washington, D.C., but my parents are from Ohio, so when we travel to the States to visit we usually end up at my grandparents' cottage on the shore of Lake Erie."

Tuti smiles. "Now that's a place I wish I could visit. Never been to any of the Great Lakes." She reaches into her closet and pulls out a bright turquoise maxi-dress. "Here. Wear this."

"Thanks." I tug it over my head. The material is soft against my skin, and it's almost startling to be wearing something so colorful. I study Tuti's outfit, and there's something about her bright, patterned T-shirt and the way her jeans hug her hips that make me self-conscious of all the loose, neutral clothing in my wardrobe. "None of my clothing looks like yours."

"My look is more calculated than I'd like it to be, but that's my business on YouTube. Anyway, don't worry about your clothes. Starting tomorrow we have to wear our uniforms anyway. There's nothing more comforting than a polyester pleated skirt." She winks as she reaches down to grab her iPad. "What do you like to watch?"

"I rotate between British comedies and horror films."

She laughs. "Horror films? Well..." She clicks around on the screen for a bit. "Lorelai Gilmore has been begging me to broaden my understanding of American film."

"Oh! I've watched Gilmore Girls!" I totally pictured Brockmore Academy to be like the high school Rory went to.

Her eyes brighten. "Rory is my everything."

Just then there's a knock on our door. Charlotte ducks her head in, her long, red curls bouncing. "Special delivery," she says, pounding the top of my dresser. "How they snuck this dresser out of the girls' wing and into the boys' without getting caught blows my mind. It's so heavy!"

"She probably convinced the soccer team to help." Tuti rolls her eyes.

"Oh, thank you for bringing it back." I hop off my bed to help them wiggle the dresser through the door on a skateboard. Ainsley pushes it in from behind, toting my hamper, Tuti's saris, and my quilt. Wow. Emma really tackled the details when she grabbed stuff from my room to bring to whatever guys' room she convinced me was my own.

"Ladies." I shake my head, astonished that they'd take the time to help me out after I ignored their advice. "Thank you so much. I was such an ass, and here you've saved my day."

"Well." Charlotte reaches out, pulling me into a quick hug. "The dresser is courtesy of Jordan." She flicks a glance toward Tuti, and a tell-tale grin shows up on Tuti's face.

Aha. Tuti has a crush.

"I'm sorry I came off a bit harsh," Charlotte adds. "No one deserves what Emma did to you. I mean, holy hell. The boys' bathroom! She was trying to get you expelled."

"It almost worked, too." Tuti shakes her head.

"Good thing James showed up." Ainsley climbs up on Tuti's bed, tucking in behind some pillows like it's her normal corner.

Tuti tosses the small bear on her bed at Ainsley. "She does not want to talk about James right now."

"Rumor has it that you two are the new thing?" Charlotte leans back, chuckling. "You took our warning to stay away from James seriously, didn't you?"

"He seems impossible to avoid," I say. It's odd our paths have crossed so significantly today.

"Then why fight it?" Ainsley asks.

"My God, Ainsley. It's like you're suddenly Team James. Why don't you just ask him out?"

"Nasty." She slides off Tuti's bed. "All I'm saying is he seems interested in her. Anyway, Charlotte, we need to hit up your review of trig if I'm going to get my paycheck."

Oh, Ainsley's a tutor. Maybe she can hook me up so I can get some tutoring hours under my belt to amp up my college app.

Charlotte's groan interrupts my thoughts. "Can't we just fake your hours?"

"Sure, but only if you're going to be able to pull down at least a 90 percent on the quiz tomorrow. There's no way I'm giving up on you. If I lose you, then I'm stuck tutoring the freshmen."

Charlotte groans. "Fine. Edelweiss, let us know if you need help with anything."

"I will, and thanks again."

"Anytime."

Tuti follows them to the door, locking it, then latching the chain. "Just in case Emma still has keys," she explains. "We should probably whisper, since her room is so close. She has a single, while the rest of us share."

"How come?"

"Her daddy pays double for it." She pulls the school-provided wool blanket off her bed and replaces it with a pristine white comforter. "So what are you going to do about Emma?"

"Nothing." I pluck a piece of fuzz from the quilt Mom and I bought from a textile market in Turkey when I was twelve. The small ivory flowers and green leaves complement the brightness of Tuti's billowing comforter.

"Really?"

"I think anything more would just provoke her."

"Date James. She'd hate that."

I pray the warmth in my face will not give me away. She'd flip out if she knew I asked him out already. "You told me to stay away from him."

Tuti laughs. "Come on, did you see his abs? After your meet-up in the shower, you can't deny he's hot."

"He's not interested in me, Tuti."

She shrugs. "I don't know about that. I've seen James look at a lot of girls, but he's never looked at a girl the way he looked at you tonight. There's something there. I know it."

"It's only because his dad probably mentioned me a few times. I imagine it's odd for him to finally meet me." At least that's what I keep telling myself. The way he looked at me when I climbed through the window made my heart stand still.
Chapter Six

James

My desk chair creaks with my weight as I pull up my essay on Crime and Punishment for one last look. This essay needs to be polished enough to land me extra credit before I walk through the door tomorrow morning. My doorknob jiggles as someone plays with the lock, then Gavin throws open the door, dragging in his luggage behind him. "My flight was delayed."

"Welcome back, man." I get up and pull him into a bro hug. "Want some help?"

"It'd make it quicker, that's for sure."

I lift the strap of his soft guitar case over his head and place the instrument in the same spot near his bed where we kept it last year. It's like his teddy bear.

He plops his suitcase on the bed and unzips it. Per usual, his stuff is a massive lump. It's like he never learned to fold worth shit. He chuckles while he separates his clothing. "How was babysitting your father's friend's kid all day?"

"Could have been worse."

"What's her name again?"

"Edelweiss."

"Different. I like it." His voice is lower than it was the last time we spoke on the phone in July. "What's she like?"

"Blonde, pretty, and fierce."

"Sounds like your type. How long did it take you to pounce on that one?"

"Literally a millisecond thanks to the glare of the sun, but it's not what you're thinking. I took her down with my motorbike before the welcome dinner." I sigh. Watching Gavin fold a T-shirt is like watching a toddler try to tie his shoes. "Let me show you." I grab one from his suitcase and show him how it's done.

"So, this new girl. She's not the girl that Mason just texted me about? The one you pulled in through the lounge window in her underwear?"

I cringe. "Same girl."

"Ah. And you're not into her?" He pats his favorite Radiohead T-shirt, which now resembles something less than a lump. "Better?"

I nod. It'll at least get the thing to fit in the drawer. "No, I'm not into her. I told you, I'm writing off girls this year."

"The day you write off girls will be the day one of my songs hits the top forty."

"You're going to need a lot more confidence if you want to be a musician, Gavin."

"I'm working on it." He shrugs. "From what Mason says this girl is ummm...stacked?"

Edelweiss has curves for days. Ones that made it very awkward to be so near her in the shower.

"And to clarify, you aren't together?"

I lean up against the wall. "You're interested, and you haven't even met her?"

"After four years, all the girls in our class seem like sisters to me, and the incoming freshman are far too young to date."

My phone vibrates on the desk. I sneak a look at a text from Proctor. Don't tell me you've marked your territory on the new chick.

"Looks like you'll have to get in line." I hand over my phone to Gavin. The poor girl is going to be swamped tomorrow. There's no way I can let her walk the halls alone. Dad should never have recommended Brockmore to a sweet, homeschooled, ambassador's daughter.

My phone vibrates in Gavin's hand. His smile fades while he reads the text. "You need to call your dad."

"Yeah, I'll call him after I'm done with my essays."

"No." Gavin passes me the phone. "You need to call him now."

I've spoken with Julie and bought you a train ticket home. Say your good-byes to Brockmore, son.

"Shit." My stomach plummets through my feet, and I stare at the text, reading it over and over. Another one comes through.

I've already requested your transcript. When she sends me the pdf, I'll submit it to Arnold's Online High School. Say good-bye to West Point.

"I've got to go." I grab my coat off the back of my chair and glance at the clock. One hour until curfew.

"Where are you going?"

"Out."

"You aren't going to call him?" he yells down the hall after me.

"I am, but with backup."

"Who could have your back better than me?" Gavin tosses a rolled-up sock at me while I open the door out of the guys' wing.

My aunt. I can't lose Brockmore over mating prairie dogs.

Ten minutes later I park my motorbike in her driveway and pound on the door of her cottage. "Julie, I'm sorry!"

She pulls open the door and steps aside. "How could you do this to me, James? Undermine me in front of the incoming freshman class! I've been fielding calls all night from angry parents because of your prank."

A knot tugs tight in my chest. "It was supposed to be harmless."

"So you admit it? For the first time, you admit you were behind a prank?"

Her eyes are red, exhausted. It makes me want to knock my own lights out. "I do."

She groans, tilting her head back. "Why did you do that? James, now I have to hand out consequences!"

"That's better than this." I slide my phone to her across the black-granite countertop. "Read what my dad said."

Her eyes scan the texts, and her lips part wide. "Oh, Peter." Her hand floats to her chest. "This isn't how your mother would have handled this."

Hearing her mention my mom always cuts into me. Julie would never know it, though. Neither would Dad. They have no idea how much I wish I'd had an opportunity to know her the way they did. How much I miss her.

"Help me, Julie." I reach out and take her hand, looking into her eyes, brown with yellow flecks, just like my own. "You know I love Brockmore. You saw me working on my essays all summer. I am getting more serious, like Dad wanted."

"You are, but James, if your father wants to pull you from Brockmore, there's nothing I can do." She picks up her laptop with a deep sigh. "Let's Skype him together. Maybe if he sees my face he won't be so brutal."

"Thank you."

Two minutes later, Dad answers her Skype request.

"Hey, Dad." I lift a finger of acknowledgment.

He dives right in, bringing the screen to his face at an angle that makes him look like he has a triple chin. "James, how could you do this to Julie?"

"I apologized to her. We're good, right?" I glance at Julie, making sure the camera gets both of us.

Julie nods. "Peter, we've worked through this ourselves. I texted you out of frustration. James admitted to the prank, and there will be consequences."

"I'm sorry, Julie, but I'm not letting James off so easily. I made it very clear at the end of last semester that if he stepped out of line I'd yank him out of Brockmore. And James, you know sorry is not good enough. This sort of behavior is not tolerable in the real world. What do you think will happen if you pull this shit at West Point? They'll throw your ass out the door, that's what. Do you understand me, son?"

"Yes, sir." I roll in my lips, hating when he uses West Point against me. Going there has been my dream since I first remembered watching Dad put on his uniform.

"And then you'll be homeless, all for a joke. Because, believe me, I will not be supporting you if you get kicked out of West Point. What were you thinking today?"

"I was trying to have a little fun."

He shakes his head, and when he shifts, I see the photo of my mom he still has on the shelf in his office. She's posed wearing a pink leotard and tights on the tips of her slippers, elegantly reaching outward while balancing on one leg.

"James, I'm not a fool. You were not chasing a laugh. Remember, I was once just like you. You were trying to remind everyone that you're cool."

"It's not like I'm selling weed or doing anything illegal." I press my palm against the cool countertop, willing my frustration to pass through it rather than show on my face. One wrong facial expression, and I'm doomed.

"Hacking into a server is against the law, James."

My eyes burn from how hard I'm working not to roll them. "It's not the CIA's server. I'm not hurting anyone when I do it."

"Actually, you are. First, your aunt, and second, the school's server hosts all private student information."

Julie closes her eyes tight and groans. "Peter, don't give him any ideas."

Dad points at the screen. If smoke were pouring from his ears, I wouldn't even attribute it to a Snapchat filter. "If you hack into any confidential information, I will turn you in to the police myself. Do you remember Uncle Brady?"

"You let your own brother rot in jail for a week after his DUI."

"Exactly. And I love you enough to do the same to you if I have to."

"Dad, I'm not going to end up in jail, and you know I have no intention of breaking into any student files. I know wrong from right, and that's not okay." I glance at Julie. A little backup would be nice right now. "Julie, I lived at your house the last three summers. All of your computers have the same password, Woodworth—what is that by the way?—the point is, if I wanted to hack into the system to get information, I would have done it long ago. That stuff doesn't interest me."

He shifts closer to the screen. "What does interest you though, James? Other than 'pranks'?"

"Football. West Point. I spent my entire summer straightening out. I basically hung out with Julie's foster kid, read books, and threw a football. That's it."

Julie clears her throat. "I have to stand by James. He did more than his fair share of chores, kept out of trouble, and even finished his essays before summer ended."

"James, you understood my rules. Your summer behavior does not negate what you did today." He shrugs, his shoulders relaxing.

A deep terror grips my rib cage. The moment he starts cooling off, it means his decision is already made.

"Come on, Dad. I'm sorry! West Point will never accept a student from an online high school. Don't do this to me."

"Fine. I'll enroll you in the public school near my apartment."

"Peter, isn't that a little drastic?" Julie says softly. "He's nine months away from graduation. Hannah wouldn't want—"

Dad slams his fist on his desk. "Don't tell me what my wife would or would not have wanted, Julie. You've helped me greatly by hosting James during high school, but he is my son. Hannah was the love of my life and would have stood by my side."

Julie nods, stepping away from the video monitor. A tear rolls down her cheek. She's been more of a parent to me the last four years than Dad has for sure. He's always halfway around the world. All my life, she's been the closest thing I've had to a mother. Sometimes I think Dad forgets that when he lost Mom, Julie lost her sister.

"Dad." My stomach sinks as I realize that not only will I be losing Brockmore, I'll be losing Julie. And she'd be losing me. "I can't leave Brockmore."

"It's not your decision, son."

"Hear me out." I hold up my hand, my heart thrashing in my chest. This better work. "Edelweiss and I have been getting to know each other online for about a month, and well... We hit it off." It was only a partial lie. "I like her. She says what she's thinking. It's nice. I asked her out."

Dad's groan echoes off the walls of his office. "Tell me you're kidding, James Matthew." He drags his palms over the sagging skin of his cheeks when I don't answer. "Why did you have to drag her into this?"

"You were the one who gave me her email address and encouraged me to reach out to her. It's not my fault that she's awesome."

Hm. Wonder what today would have been like if I really had emailed her? Doubt Emma would have been able to get away with that prank. I could have prepared her for Brockmore, protected her.

"Ambassador Lee will hate me if you hurt his daughter."

"I don't want to break up with her, Dad, but if I move to upstate New York, it wouldn't be fair to her. I promised to be there for her this year, and I can't do that through a computer screen. She deserves better." I press my lips together, hoping he doesn't take offense to the fact that our relationship is mostly spent on screen.

Julie steps back on camera, the evidence of her tears wiped away. "Peter, I blew today's situation out of proportion. If it had been any other student pulling this prank, I would not have notified the parents. This is something that should be dealt with between the administration and the student."

Dad leans back in his chair. We both hold our breath, waiting for the verdict.

"Fine," he grumbles. "One more chance. Don't make me regret this James, and do not make a mess of your relationship with the ambassador's daughter. The last thing I need is to get a call from his office because you made his daughter cry."

"Understood, sir."

"Treat her with respect, the way I treated your mother."

His words feel like he's taking a pile of linebackers off my back. Air moves through my lungs easier. "Absolutely. Thank you, Dad."

"Julie? Can we speak tomorrow? I believe I owe you an apology, but right now I think we're all too wound up, and I fear my words won't find the right place. But know I appreciate all you've done for me and James."

Julie smiles softly. "Have a good night, Peter. I'll take care of things on this end."

"You always do." The screen returns to his circular photo on Julie's contact list after Dad ends the call.

A sigh of relief escapes my chest. "Thank you so much."

She leans against the counter. "We still need to talk about consequences."

Anything is better than leaving Brockmore. I know it's hard for her to pin the stables on some of the other students because their parents call and complain, so that's always where she puts me. Plus, I sort of like the company of the horses. They've got these wise eyes that make them easy to talk to.

Not that I'd ever tell anyone I do.

"The stables, all year. I'm on it. Pretty sure if I didn't show up to muck out the stalls on Saturday morning your horses would freak out. They've grown to like me."

"Well, then perhaps we need to add an extra level of discipline. I want you to take on more responsibility within the walls of Brockmore. Show everyone the boy I know. Once people get to know the real you, no one will expect you to constantly be 'on' and your temptation to impress will be eliminated. All of our other students are involved in some type of council or club, except you."

"I'm captain of the football team."

"But that's like breathing for you. It's not a challenge. How about joining student council this year? We're missing a voice to represent the senior boys."

Of course they lack a voice. No one wants to be on the council. Who wants to wake up three days a week for six a.m. meetings to decorate poster boards for food drives and plan dances?

Julie claps her hands. "It's a perfect solution. Having you on the council may change the way it's viewed."

"Don't do this to me, Julie. It's a bunch of kids who don't know how to wash their faces and think fun is defined by bocce ball and free popcorn."

"James, I hereby sentence you to student council."

"Does this mean I don't have to work in the stables?"

She laughs. "James, no one can muck out a stall like you."

Right. Well, at least I'll have my horse therapy for the year. "I'll be there then." I slip off my stool to raid her fridge. As always, she's stocked it with my favorite salami and cheese. As I slice it up for a quick snack before heading back to the dorms, there's an uneasy pull in my chest. Almost like the one I feel before a big play, like the entire game is riding on me.

Hopefully Edelweiss's offer to "fake date" still stands. If not, I'm doomed.
Chapter Seven

Edelweiss

"Yup. Now we're talking." Tuti tucks her iPad and notebook under her arm while she checks me out.

"Are you sure this isn't too short?" I gaze down at my blue pleated skirt, which Tuti insisted I roll up.

"As long as it's an inch past your fingertips, you're fine."

"But it originally sat at my knees."

"Listen, you may not care about Emma targeting you, but I do. There's no way I can let you walk into the dining hall looking like you're a schoolgirl from the 1930s. Just because we all wear uniforms doesn't mean we can't look cute." She picks up the Brockmore Academy brochure I've opened and closed a hundred times. "Even in the brochure the girls are rolling up their waistbands. And—what?—this thing has to be at least ten years old. Cuffed socks. No one would be caught dead rolling their socks."

"Okay, okay." I smooth out my white blouse, studying myself in the mirror. Butterflies zoom through my stomach while I apply a light layer of lip gloss.

The simple freedom of putting on makeup without seeing my dad's eyebrows raised is glorious. I even put on eyeliner, because why not?

Now I can scratch Wear too much makeup for fun off my list. Win!

While we walk out of the dormitory, a few of the senior girls study me, but no one stares. My heart falls into a steady rhythm on the way down the stairs. Maybe yesterday's events are already old news.

Below, the atrium is bustling with the school fair. "How many activities is it normal to join?"

"Are you serious?" Tuti laughs, brushing her hand along the handrail of the grand stairway while we descend.

"I don't want to join too many and look foolish, or not join enough and look lazy."

"Don't overthink everything, Edelweiss. Join what you want to do, and no one will think you're strange." She plucks a handout off the table. "Here's a list of all the organizations."

Biking club. Horseback riding. Student council. Art club. Film club. The list goes on and on. "But I want to do all of this. How much is manageable with the academic schedule?"

"Okay, first, you need to stop asking questions like that. If you act like an outsider, people will treat you like an outsider. Second..." She sighs, fixing my collar. "I wouldn't join more than two activities at a time. Like I plan to sign up for art club and running club. That'll give me three morning runs a week with a place to hang out every Thursday night in the art studio. It's all about balance."

"So two things?"

"It's a good place to start." She waves at Jordan, who's juggling tennis balls near a sorry-looking sign-up sheet. "He's the proud president of the juggling club."

"There's a juggling club?"

"Yeah." She shakes her head with a smile. "I'm going to go see if he managed to wrangle any freshman into his grasp this year. You good?" She shifts away, obviously wanting some time to herself.

"I'm good."

"Meet you after math for lunch?"

"Near the front steps, right?"

"Yup." She snatches the tennis ball Jordan tosses at her.

The atrium bustles with people zipping around tables. Only the freshmen and I linger in the middle, studying the list.

"Hey, Edelweiss!" When I look up, my heart catches in my throat. James pauses at the head of the stairs, owning that navy-blue Brockmore blazer better than any guy in school. He jogs down the steps. "Look at you, all Brockmore'd up. Very nice."

"Thanks?" I glance back down at my paper.

"Are you still planning to run for student council?" he asks.

"Yeah, and I'm thinking I may do the film club. What do they do?"

"They get to pick the free movies for students every Friday night and probably geek out about the Sundance Film Festival."

I raise my eyebrow. Film is obviously not his forte. "Sounds good to me."

"So you're a film geek?" He follows me over to the table that's currently empty except the sign-up paper.

"Not yet." I scribble my name on the paper. "But maybe someday. What did you sign up for?"

"I was thinking about student council."

"Really?" I glance over at the table under the student council banner, noting how no one but a group of scrawny kids that can only be freshmen hover around it, and that may be by accident.

"Come on." He tugs my hand. Just like yesterday, the warmth of his palm on my skin somehow awakens my hand to its own existence. "Let's sign up together."

The room shifts the moment James steps up to the student council table. Everyone's eyes are on him and murmurs float around us while he writes down his name. I sign up next, and when I turn around, three more people have lined up behind me.

"Excuse me," he says politely, stepping to the side to let another student take his place at the table.

Does he even realize how much power he has here?

He adjusts his leather bag on his shoulder. "Did you eat breakfast yet?"

"No."

"Good. I'll tell you what to avoid. Never fall for the grits. They look nice and creamy, but the chef ads so much salt that you'll feel like you're moving through molasses for a day."

I cock my head. Why on earth would he want to have breakfast with me after yesterday? "You don't have to do this."

He groans. "Come on."

"I don't want to be your charity case, James," I whisper while I follow him down toward the dining hall. "You can eat with your friends. I'll be fine on my own."

"I want to eat with you. We got off on the wrong foot yesterday, plus..." He nods toward the girls giggling against the wall. "I'm starting to realize how having you at my side could be beneficial."

Whoa. My neck warms. Maybe I'll be able to survive Brockmore after all. The smells of bacon and maple syrup greet me before I even step foot in the dining hall. White linens still cover the tables, but the fancy centerpieces have been removed.

"Are you reconsidering my proposition?" I ask.

"Nope."

My confidence deflates. Back to keeping my head low. Now I know what a balloon feels like.

He hands me a plate before conquering the buffet, piling his plate so full of baked goods and eggs that it looks like a giant breakfast volcano. I try to make sure my choices compensate for his gross serving size, a meager helping of eggs and fruit. After seeing my parents work so hard to fight child malnutrition, I'm pretty sure I'll strangle him if any of that lands in the trash.

"I already had football practice this morning and ran three miles," he explains when he sits down across from me, catching me eyeing his food like he plundered it from an orphanage. "Breakfast is my main meal. Water, milk, or juice?" he asks.

"Water."

"On it." A moment later he returns with a glass of water for each of us, plus an additional cup of milk for himself. "So, yesterday was unique."

"A nice word for it." I nibble on some cantaloupe, restraining myself from the tempting need to click my thumb joint. "Did you get in trouble for the prank yesterday?"

"Nearly eaten alive." He winces. "That's what I wanted to talk to you about."

"What happened?"

"My dad decided to pull me from Brockmore."

"Oh, I'm so sorry." My fork clinks against my plate as I set it down.

"It's okay." He sips from his glass. "I convinced him to let me stay."

"How?"

"Well, this is where your idea comes back into play."

What? He better not be kidding. I lean in. "I thought you weren't reconsidering."

"That's because I've already made a decision." He gets up and drags his plate over so he's sitting next to me. He whispers. "My dad won't dare drag me out of Brockmore because he thinks we're dating. He doesn't want to piss off your father."

He told his father before he even told me.

I turn to him and take a deep breath. The question I'm about to ask is direct. Perhaps too direct, but I don't care at this point. The last ten minutes he's led me through a web of too much nuance. "So are we dating?"

"We are now. I failed to see your brilliant vision yesterday, but I get it now. This will be perfect. We'll both be left alone to enjoy the year our own way, and I won't have to move to upstate New York."

"Right." My feet jitter under the table as I wrap my mind around what's happening. I have a boyfriend. Well, a fake boyfriend, but still! There will be dates and stuff, which means I'll be able to check first date off my list before the month is up.

"Will you be my girlfriend?" He turns to face me, his eyes doing that thing where they seem to be searching every inch of my soul. Not fair.

I can't help but smile. "Are you sure?"

"Yes. I don't want to watch Emma eat you alive just because you're beautiful."

Beautiful? My stomach flips over, and I want to sock myself in the gut. This is a business relationship, nothing more.

"I can give you a leg up so you can find a secure place here at Brockmore. Hell, when the year is done and you dump me, you'll usurp me. The school will be at your fingertips, and you'll be a shoo-in for president of student council your senior year. What do you say?"

A ball knots up in the back of my throat. Yesterday it was easy to ask him for a fake relationship, but today, with daylight pouring through the window, I can feel the weight of the lie. This will require lying to my parents and Tuti, Charlotte, and Ainsley.

"Edelweiss, we aren't going to get anywhere without being honest with each other."

I tuck my hair behind my ears, studying the cantaloupe on my plate. "James, lying for an entire year is going to be hard."

"Well, I want to be your friend. So what if we mislabel our friendship a bit? You're cool. Let people interpret girl friend to be girlfriend and boy friend to be boyfriend. We don't have to lie."

I glance down at my plate. "I'm a little nervous of what people will think of me, considering all of your experience with girls that you bragged about yesterday."

He sighs. "I don't want to put on that kind of show. We'll stick to some hand-holding, a peck on the cheek here and there. Nothing more. Friends with minimal benefits."

"What happens if one of us finds someone we like, though?"

"Then we break up and remain friends. Hell, I'll even help you find the guy of your dreams if you haven't already by the end of the year."

"And if we don't get along?"

"Then you get to dump my ass. I promise."

"A get-out-of-jail-free card?" I pop a tart raspberry in my mouth.

"Does this mean what I think it means?" His eyes brighten.

I tuck my hands into my lap, forcing myself to sit straight and tall. "A temporary relationship?" One that'll safely allow me to check off the box I was most afraid to tackle on my list: dating and breaking up.

"The timetable is yours to manage, but please hang in there a few weeks so I have more time to show my father I'm serious about Brockmore."

"Do you really think we can pull this off?" I glance at what seems to be a constant stream of students flowing in and out of the room. A girl a few tables away keeps glancing over her shoulder at James. There will be so many eyes who could notice us slipping up, and many girls waiting to pounce and take my place.

Excitement swirls in my chest. Whatever I just signed up for will at the very least be an adventure. One that's all my own.

James leans back, placing both hands behind his neck, grinning. "Did Hemingway cheat on his wife?"

I let out a short, dry laugh and sip my water. "The irony of your statement does not escape me."

He laughs with a twinkle in his eyes. "A smart girlfriend. Now this will be fun."
Chapter Eight

James

Sweat rains down my back, and my quads burn. Push on! I duck with the leather ball tucked under my arm, swerving for an opening. There! Grinding off the turf, I launch forward.

This—right now—the physical push into pure abandonment of my own body, is what I'm all about. There's nothing like being airborne, struggling to fly over that thick white line.

Then the hits come. One—into my right shoulder—two—the left kidney—three—my back—four—well, hell the entire team hops on while the whistle sounds. Their weight presses the breath out of my lungs. Fingers jut in, poking my face through my facemask, while arms wiggle down like snakes trying to steal the football.

Sorry, boys. It's all mine. I keep hold of the pig, cementing it between my palms and my heart. Refs yank off the hundreds of pounds' worth of defenders piled on my back.

There. Sucking in a deep breath after being tackled is always my favorite part, even if it does smell like sweaty ass and mildew. It means a job well done, especially when I still have full control over the ball.

"TOUCHDOWN! Bears win!" The announcer's voice rattles through my helmet as it bellows through the stadium.

Mr. Davvy yanks me off the ground. "You okay, son?"

The answer is always the same, my fist pumping into the air while the crowd roars. It doesn't matter how many hits I take, as long as six more points end up on the board.

I gaze up into the bleachers, searching for the dark-green sweater she said she'd be wearing tonight. If there's ever a time to proclaim we're together, it's now. There she is, her long blond hair tumbling over her shoulders, cheering right next to Ainsley.

I kiss the tip of the ball then rotate it in her direction. The crowd turns as a unit, checking her out.

Ainsley is true to her word, pointing at Edelweiss so everyone knows that she's the one.

Yup, that oughta do it.

Thankfully the postgame ritual is quick. The Brighton Knights barrel through the traditional ending high fives because their sportsmanship sucks. People expect their attitude, so they just lay it on harder. Probably fun to watch but a bit painful on the wrist.

"Parson!" John Proctor yells across the locker room the moment I step in. Anytime I look at him, with those startling blue eyes, I get a little creeped out—like I'm peering into the past of the Salem witch trials and the John Proctor is staring me down. He claims his eyes are the same as his great—to the exponential power—grandfather's. It's probably a lie, because who had a camera back in 1690, but I'm not going to challenge him on it.

"You fuck-shit." He punches my shoulder at my locker. "You told everyone at practice this morning you weren't drilling the new chick."

"And I'm not, but we are together." My jersey sticks to my lower back like glue, so it takes some considerable peeling before I'm free.

"I was planning to hit her up at the party tonight." He crosses his arms and stares at the locker room ceiling.

"Gonna toss down the direct descendent line again?"

"Whatever. It garners interest."

"The last girl you tried that on ditched you within seconds." I toss my jersey into the laundry bin.

"Well, it's not like I can weed out every conservative cheerleader in the country."

"We were in Alabama, man." I grab my bag for the shower and three towels off the shelf.

"Is Edelweiss from Alabama?"

"Nope." Come to think of it, I have no idea where she's from. Dad always just said they were abroad. "Great hustle out there," I say instead, hoping he'll drop the subject and move on. There are so many things about Edelweiss I'll need to know if we are going to pull this off.

"Well, let me know when you fuck it up."

"Not going to happen." I dodge him as he tries to flick me with a towel on my way to the shower.

When I exit the locker room, I gaze down the Waiting Wall, where all the girlfriends meet their guys after each game. Mason raises an eyebrow. "Where's the new girl?"

"I forgot to invite her." I press past him. There's so much I haven't told Edelweiss about Brockmore life. How could I forget such an important detail? Although the Waiting Wall has always rubbed me wrong. Any girl worth my while would have better things to do than lean up against a wall after one of my games. But I guess if we are going to play the part, we both need to embrace tradition.

"James!" A voice bounces down the corridor followed by the clacking tell-tale footsteps of high heels.

"Emma." There's no use asking how she is or what's up. The girl word-vomits around me, and it doesn't matter if I want to know or not.

"Good game."

"Yup." I push open the doors of our private stadium exit, stepping out into the crisp night air.

"So—what—you don't even talk to me now?" She reaches up and touches the locket that hangs from a chain around her neck. It's her nervous tick, the one that made me once think we were meant to be together.

That was the only benefit of dating Emma. It didn't feel as lonely being in the company of someone else who didn't have a mother.

That locket's the only thing Emma has left of her.

But I can't let that be my only reason to be with her, especially with what she did. "We haven't spoken all summer, Emma. Don't see why that should change now."

For a fleeting moment after having a real—though accidental—conversation about politics last year, I actually considered making us official. Of course, later that night I walked in on her with her side piece.

"You still want me, don't you?" She tugs on my arm.

"Trust me. You quenched my palate." I remove my wrist from her shackles. "I've moved on."

Emma pops out her hip. "With that new girl? Please, James. She's too green for you. You're going to hurt her when you screw up, and—let's be honest—we both know you're going to mess it up. She'll never understand how people like us work. I watched her all day with the teachers. She walks on pearls, like she's from another world."

No. I'm different now. There's no way I'd let myself hurt her. Plus, our arrangement protects me from doing just that.

I press my lips firmly together. "She's resilient to be able to bounce back after what you did to her last night. You could have gotten her expelled."

Emma shrugs. "I had to test her out. My class has never had a new kid before. It was her initiation."

"Did she pass?"

Emma does the thing I hate where she scrunches up her nose and looks like a bunny who ran into a skunk. "Far from it."

"The girl fell into your web and walked out with me as a boyfriend, and now everyone's interested in her. I'd call that passing with bonus points."

"You've got to be kidding. She looks like she writes her own Laura Ingalls Wilder plays for fun. You're not into her, Jamie. She's not your type."

"My tastes have changed."

"Feel free to go ahead and tell yourself that. In the meantime, tell your girlfriend to watch her back."

I've heard Emma tell people to watch their backs enough to know that she needs time to pull off a plot. Usually it's an empty threat in the now, and whatever she's got in mind I'm certain I'll be able to figure it out in time to stop her. I can protect Edel. "Why? I've already got her back."

Emma leans on the giant gargoyle at the base of the stairs into Brockmore Hall that looks a bit like Mr. Davvy. "Are you sure about that?" A slow smirk draws itself across those perfect pink lips.

I glare at her and want to kick myself for not keeping closer tabs on her schemes. "What did you do to her, Emma?"

She shrugs, then pushes off the gargoyle and ascends the stairs, wiggling her butt a bit too much on her way up. "You'll figure it out."

Thick pressure hovers over me as I follow her up the stairs and inside. I know if I tail her she'll bring me right to the drama.

The hum of a crowd echoes from an adjacent hall. I groan, pushing past Emma as I break into a jog. A group has gathered in front of the student council booth, pointing at the candidate photos on the wall.

The word skank is red-lettered over Edelweiss's head shot. Edelweiss stands at the front of the crowd, stunned.

I push my way in closer to see what she's looking at, and when I do see it, I freeze. There in her hand she clutches a handful of light-blond hair. There's a massive chunk missing from the hair draped over her shoulder.

Holy hell. Emma is evil. Pure evil.

My mouth opens, ready to fire but nothing comes out. My knees lock, and all I can do is look into Edel's vulnerable, crystal-blue eyes. There's an ache there, one that acknowledges that I failed her.

Ainsley glares at me. "James!" Her eyes change into the warning glare that looks just like Dad's. Freaking terrifying.

I peel my gaze away from Edel and direct it toward Ainsley. What am I supposed to say? Eye-speaking is the benefit of discovering we share half our DNA. Thank God we figured out she was my sister before I hit on her. My father apparently sowed his seed a lot the year after my mother died. Odd how fate tossed us together and gave us the opportunity to figure out that we aren't as alone as we thought. Of course, Dad doesn't know. Neither does Julie.

Ainsley puffs out her chest. "Really?" She steps forward, yanking on Edelweiss's hand to remove her from the mass of students.

Edelweiss's face is pale, and I can't help but cringe at the sight. It's painful to watch. Honest displays of emotion are a rare sight around here. Brockmore students are expected to move on.

"Don't suppose they sell hair glue?" I try for the laugh, but the moment the words slip out, I want to crawl into a hole and die. Pretty sure I just won the worst boyfriend award.

Ainsley groans, grabbing Edelweiss by the shoulder and shoving her past me. "Go to hell, James," Ainsley growls, pushing her toward Jordan, Tuti, and Charlotte. They cup her close and rush her up the stairs.

Shit. That probably was what I should have been doing.

Jace steps forward, squeezing my shoulder. "Smooth, Parson. Text me when she dumps your ass so I can comfort her in the morning."

Inside my pockets, my fingers clench as I push past him. I run my tongue over an area on the inside of my cheek that I hadn't realized I'd been biting while I stood there, just watching.

I duck into a study room and close the door, keeping the lights off. Wow. I let Edelweiss down in a way I never knew I could.

Weak never defined me until this moment.

Why didn't I move?

If it had been anyone else standing there with a chunk of their hair cut off, I would have barged in and told everyone to go to hell. Shouted about getting revenge or some crap like that.

But seeing Edel like that threw me into shock. It was my job to protect her, and I failed.
Chapter Nine

Edelweiss

"Your hair!" Charlotte's fingers feather through the chopped ends of my hair while I sit on my bed. "Damn. Emma's picked up her game."

"Picked up her game?" Tuti tosses a comb at her. "Word choice, Charlotte!"

Charlotte bites her lip, tucking the comb between her knees while she studies my assaulted locks. "I meant that she's hit a new low."

"How are you not crying right now?" Tuti paces the room. "Are you even in there?"

Valid question. The photos on Tuti's wall all blur together after I've been staring at them so long. There are so many feelings circling within me with an intensity I never felt before. How could this happen to me?

My chest aches from the jagged adrenaline pumping through my veins. For the first time in my life, I actually want to hurt someone. My fists yearn to smash into Emma's chest, blowing the air out of her so she's forced to know how I'm feeling right now.

"She's dating James now. Everything's different." Ainsley sits on Tuti's bed, clutching a pillow on her lap.

"For real? Well, I'd dump his ass. He just stood there." The comb snags on a snarl. "Sorry," Charlotte says. "Whoever used the scissors chopped too close to the base of your hairline. Hell, if you would've moved one step back she would've nipped your skin."

"Can we hide it?" My voice catches as I utter my first words since the attack. My bones feel frozen, but my left calf muscle won't stop twitching. Pretty sure the humiliation did a faulty factory reset on my system.

The photo they chose alone would have been mean enough. They'd cropped one of the photos I sent in my online application, one of my parents and me, sitting on camels in front of the Pyramids of Giza. For this though, they zoomed in close enough to feature the red, swollen zit on my chin.

Then they had to go red-letter my name all over the shot: skank. Really? The word shouts immaturity as loud as I want to scream at Emma.

My hair...my precious hair! I hadn't cut it in years. Someone brushed up against my shoulder, and a second later I felt the sharp pull. The sound of the crunch of the scissors through my hair was deafening. I turned around too late to see who carried the shears.

All I know is that Emma must have been the brains behind this. The look she gave me, plumping out her pink-glossed lower lip with a smirk, was one of pure triumph.

Charlotte plops down on the desk chair she's pulled out across from me. "I can't blend this into your old style. You lost too much."

"Why is she so set on destroying me?" My hand squeezes around the thick chunk I scooped off the floor, grinding the strands of hair together. The ten inches of hair looks so lifeless in my palm, almost diseased.

"Emma couldn't handle not being the only blonde with beautiful hair in school." Tuti picks up the stress cow from her desk, squeezing tight until its eyes pop out.

"Maybe I could..." Charlotte squats so her eyes are level with mine while she folds my hair under to make it all look short. "Yes. Now this you can pull off. An angled, chin-length bob, slightly asymmetrical. With your jaw structure and cheekbones, you'll kill it. Ainsley, where are my scissors?"

"Wait. You're going to cut more of it?" I suddenly snap out of my trance, reaching up to protect my hair. The harsh chopped ends tickle my palm.

"Better than wandering around school with the evidence of Emma's dirty work, isn't it?"

"Credentials would probably be nice, Charlotte." Ainsley pulls a small blue pen out of her pocket, shifting to the edge of the bed and opening the window. Her lips wrap around the pen and she breathes, releasing a pristine white vapor out the window. "An e-cig. I vape, and don't worry, it's not nicotine and not addictive. I just like the flavor. Anyway, Charlotte, prove yourself worthy of those scissors or you'll give the girl a heart attack."

"But it's so much more fun to make them squirm."

Tuti tosses her Kleenex box at Charlotte, whacking her in the back of the head. "Charlotte, she's squirmed enough tonight. Come on!"

"Fine." Charlotte winks at me, turning my face with her palms and tugging on my hair every so often while she speaks. "In the summers I help my mom with her at-home salon. It's a kitchen chair she tosses behind her trailer under a canopy. Her business, Hair and Wine, is perfect for her personality, and it brings in just enough to pay for the groceries if she's not too drunk to finish the cuts."

Her mother's an alcoholic? No wonder Charlotte's such a force: she's had to be. "I'm sorry."

"Don't sweat it. She taught me how to cut when she was sober, and I've been watching her my whole life. I do most of the cutting now while she shares a glass of wine with the client, making them buzzed enough so they tip extra." She brushes my hair to the side and nods as if she's calculating a difficult math problem.

"Charlotte?" Tuti sighs. "Is this really the best time to dump your life story on Edel? The girl's got her own issues."

"What? I'm giving her a reason to appreciate her situation a little bit more."

"How did you end up at Brockmore?" I ask. The place runs sixty to eighty grand a year, depending on household income.

"My brain bought me a huge scholarship—well, minus the math stuff. God, I hate numbers like I hate lunges and squats." She nods toward Ainsley. "They put us poor girls together as roommates, thank God. I couldn't survive this place without Ainsley's square head on her shoulders. Sorry, Tuti."

Tuti shrugs. "No biggie. I'm well-aware I got lucky with a viral video that launched a successful YouTube channel and blog. I'm set for now."

"But you don't act like you brush your teeth with money. That's the key." Charlotte gives my shoulder a gentle squeeze. "Are you ready to look striking? You'll own this cut, and it'll toss Emma's plan back in her face. I bet in one week I'll have freshmen knocking on my door, begging me for the Edelweiss look."

"Charlotte cuts mine all the time." Ainsley drags again from her e-cig. "She does a good job. And don't freak out, I ask her to leave my bob unblended." She fingers the blunt ends of her dark hair. "Fits me better this way."

I glance at Tuti, who nods. "Go for it. The cuts Charlotte gives are far better than the ones in town. She does my hair too."

"Okay. I trust you." Please, don't botch this up!

Ainsley grins. "James will like it."

"Are you two friends?" I wince at the sound of the scissors slicing through my hair.

She nods. And that's it. No extra info.

"Where are you from?" I pry a bit.

"Here in Maryland."

"Edelweiss, there's no use digging. I've lived with Ainsley for three years, and the only thing I know is that she's poor and an orphan."

Wow. Charlotte really doesn't hold her tongue, like ever.

Ainsley shrugs. "I qualified on a scholarship like Charlotte. And I don't talk about my past because there isn't much to tell. I had a nice foster family for a few years after my mom died. They saw my potential and had me apply for the scholarship here at Brockmore. The rest is history."

"Oh. I'm sorry, Ainsley," I say, hugging my pillow to my chest while Charlotte cuts.

Ainsley pulls again from the blue vape pen and gazes out the window.

The dead hair in my hand doesn't seem so bad anymore. At least I have my mom and dad. I don't have to worry about where I live in the summer and how to pay the bills.

"Thanks, guys." I finally release the strands of hair, letting them flutter down into the trash bin Charlotte's placed between her feet.

"Atta girl. Now, look down." Charlotte forces my face down toward the floor while she cuts again. "Much better."

Tuti reads from Maya Angelou's I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings to help us knock out our English homework for the night while ten years of my childhood flutter to the floor. Charlotte needs over an hour to get my hair to lie just right and another twenty minutes of finessing the style before she'll hand over a mirror.

And when she does, I barely recognize the girl looking back. Instead of gazing at the girl I'd long accepted as being a bit homely, a woman who seems to have a little spunk grins back.

Holy hell!

Dad is going to freak out.

Charlotte squeezes my shoulders reassuringly. "I told you. It's sexy as hell."

"I'll say." A deep voice floats in through the window, and all of us jump.

"James?" Ainsley opens the window further for him. "You're going to be destroyed if someone finds out."

"Oh my God." Tuti presses her hands to her cheeks. "My parents will kill me if I get expelled because a boy is in my room."

"I'm sorry. I need to talk to Edel, and this can't wait until tomorrow. Can I come in?" He swings his leg over the ledge, looking only to me. "Please, Edel."

"Fine," I whisper.

Charlotte shifts away. "Hold that thought until my ass is out of here. Sorry, Edelweiss. I can't handle the trailer park for more than three months a year."

"Yeah," Ainsley picks up her books. "I've got to go too. Maryland's foster program is not as sweet of a gig as Brockmore."

"Well, then I'm not staying." Tuti leaps up, then looks at me. "Just..." She sighs. "Put one of my hair ties on the door if you don't want me opening it, okay?"

I roll my eyes. "You won't have to worry about that. I'd leave the door open if..."

"It wouldn't get us expelled." James nods. "I know what I'm risking, and it's worth it."

"Is it?" I ask.

"I think so." James's eyes lock onto mine, those gold specks edging the deep, brown sparkle. A burning flutter kisses my cheeks and suddenly the room feels far too warm.

"Later, Edel," Tuti says with a wink as she closes the door. When I turn around, James stands between our beds, his hand running through his hair and looking at the ground. There's tension in the air.

"First time in a girls' room?"

A low chuckle breaks the tension. "No, definitely not. I just suck at the whole apologizing thing."

"You told me being together would offer me protection." I tug at the hair tickling my jawline. "You just stood there and watched."

"Yeah." He winces, pulling out Tuti's desk chair. "Can I sit here?"

"Sure." I cross my arms firmly, keeping my feet planted on the ground. "So, were you in on it? Charlotte said she saw you walking in with Emma. Was this all a joke?"

"No."

"So technically, as my boyfriend, you just stood there while the entire school gawked at me?" Light, cutting laughter I don't even recognize slips out from my lips. It's edgy, confident, and super pissed off.

James raises his hands in surrender. "Listen, I've never been a 'boyfriend' before. I get it—I failed."

"Do you want out?" I sigh. "Because this is the time to do it. Dump me and I'll be pleased to be a lowly feeder-grower on the bottom of the social food chain. In fact, I want to be there—where no one will notice me."

"Edelweiss, have you seen yourself? You looked pretty before, but now? Shit. Emma's evil plan unwillingly elevated you to the hottest girl in school. Not like you needed the help. You've got everyone's interest wrapped around your finger because you've proved you've got guts. I like that about you."

Heat rushes to my cheeks, and I try to fight it off. "Don't say that."

"Why?"

"Because I'm supposed to be pissed off."

"No one's ever told you you're hot before? My God, where were you living before Brockmore?"

"Monaco, across the street from the Prince Albert II."

"Rich community."

"And old. The youngest person I knew was in their mid-thirties."

"You didn't get out much."

"Not without my mother as a chaperone."

"How'd you convince them to loosen their grip so you could come to Brockmore?" He looks at me, then sighs in exasperation when I don't answer. "Listen, we need to get to know each other now, or we'll never survive tomorrow. Sit down. I'm not going to bite you." He reaches those long legs across the room to snag my desk chair, pulling it out for me.

Reluctantly, I take the seat.

"If we're going to have each other's backs, we need details so people can't pick us apart."

I glance over at the black Moleskine journal on my dresser.

"Your diary?" he asks.

"Not exactly. It's a list of sorts." I pick it up. "It took me six months to convince my parents to let me come to Brockmore. This helped, and don't laugh or I'll call the headmistress and have your ass hauled out of here." I wait for him to nod before I hand it over. "It's all the things I need to experience in order to survive college."

He rolls his lips in while he reads the first page. "Number one: fall in love and break up. Don't know many girls who would add the break up part."

"My mom wrote that. My folks insisted that my list for college prep be balanced between academics and real life."

"That's completely opposite of what most parents think. I see you already achieved number three, being on student council."

"Not yet. I signed up to run, but the student body has to vote me in. After what Emma pulled tonight, I doubt that'll happen."

"Nah." He hands the notebook back to me, and I can't help but appreciate him for not flipping past the first page. "Don't underestimate Brockmore. Everyone knows Emma goes off the deep end. If anything, this will help you."

"I guess we'll find out on Friday."

James turns the chair around and rests his chin on top. "Weird," he says.

"What?"

"Talking with you isn't like talking to anyone here at Brockmore. At least not for me." He reaches back, massaging his neck.

"How so?"

"That I have yet to figure out."

"Fair enough. So tell me about you. What's really up with you and Emma? How long did you date?"

His gaze drops to the floor. "You don't date Emma. She's a tornado."

"Yeah." My hand naturally floats up to my cropped hair. It's violating, but I can't let it freak me out. There are far worse things in the world. A shiver runs up my back as my mind goes there, remembering the girl my own age with dark-brown eyes featured behind a window.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing." I hop off the edge of my bed and pace the room, trying to shake her haunting image. Mom and Dad never intended for me to see the sex-trafficking district that night, yet I'll never forget it. "What's your Dad like?"

"He's had a tight yet distant grip on me since my mother died."

I nod, acknowledging that my parents shared Colonel Parson's story with me a few times through my life. I don't exactly remember the first time I heard about their friend who lost his wife right after childbirth, but it's a story I've always known.

James continues. "Last May he was so disappointed in me and my attitude toward...well, everything. Seeing his expression was one of the worst things I ever had to look at. He's a great man, though. If I could be half the man he is, I'd be pleased with myself."

"That's admirable."

James lifts those eyes to mine. "I think we can make our plan work, Edelweiss. Tonight I screwed up, and I'm sorry. This is all new territory for me."

"I don't want you to leave Brockmore." I lean against my mattress and grab a pillow for my lap.

"Thank you. Plus, this way you can at least have some evidence to show your folks that you're working toward number one on your list." He raises his eyebrows, glancing at my journal.

"Oh. When my mom knows about you, she'll flip out."

"I hope in a good way." He gets off the chair to lean against Tuti's closet door.

"She will love the idea that I'm dating you. I'll barely have to say anything about us because her imagination will do the rest. So how do we repair what happened tonight?"

"I'll tell people you laid into me, but you're giving me one more chance. But..." He grabs Tuti's yellow notepad off her desk. "We need rules. Black-and-white regulations that I can follow so I don't screw this up again."

I tug the pillow into my chest. "Number one, do not just stand there when your girlfriend is getting attacked or ridiculed."

"Yeah." He winces as he writes it down, sitting back down in the chair. "What else? I should probably sit with you at least one meal a day, don't you think?"

I nod. "But not all of them. I don't want my whole world to be you, no offense."

"Agreed. I don't want people to think I'm whipped."

"How about we eat dinner together?"

"Deal. Also, you need to make a T-shirt with my jersey number on it to wear to my games and show up at the wall outside of the locker room afterward." He holds up a hand. "Trust me, I know it's misogynistic and stupid, but it's sort of an unspoken rule at Brockmore that good girlfriends are there."

Sounds boring but whatever. I'll read or something. "I can do that."

"Now what about the physical stuff? Unfortunately, people are going to doubt us if all I'm doing is walking you to class. I thought we could get away with hand-holding, but I'm pretty sure people will catch on if that's it."

I shift. "I'm really not into PDA."

"It's way more fun to do than watch." He leans back, pressing his hands into his neck. Ha. That ego is so not going to work here. I pick up my foot and brace it before I give his chair a good shove, sending him rolling into the desk and knocking his elbow.

"Ow. This is going to bruise." He massages the elbow with a half-cracked smile.

"Good."

With a slow whistle, he scoots his chair closer to me. "And no apology from the ambassador's daughter."

"Not tonight." He failed me today. Even though our relationship is supposed to be fake, the structure of supporting each other and being each other's excuses is supposed to be there. "So can we skip making out?"

"With my track record it would probably bring on more suspicion if they don't catch us making out at least once a week." He glances up at me. "But listen, they can just be suspicious if you aren't comfortable with it. Hell, we don't ever have to actually kiss. Just make it look like we have been."

"Okay. I can do that." My heartbeat doubles. At least, I think I can. "Stepping out of a dark corner together?"

"Add a little messed-up hair and that should do the trick. Of course, pecks on the cheek will have to be public."

"I can handle that."

"Also, at my games you need to be over the top. Probably good if you give me a peck on the cheek during halftime." He scribbles the items down vigorously. "Probably should text you in class or in front of the football team every so often too. Maybe send daily email update so we know what's going on in each other's lives?"

"Or during all the hand-holding and class walking, we could actually talk." I toss my pillow at him while he scribbles on the pad.

Of course he doesn't even have to look up to snatch it out of the air.

"So that's how people do it." He winks then tucks his pen between his teeth. "Yup. This list screams perfect couple to me."

"And Emma?"

"She won't try anything like this again. Trust me on this one." The chair squeaks while he stands.

"You say you've moved on, but the entire school keeps talking about you two."

"I have moved on. You don't have to worry about that. And as for the school? We'll change the conversation. From here on out I'm upping my game, and my focus is on you. I've never failed at anything before tonight, Edelweiss, and I swear to you it'll never happen again."

"Thanks."

He nods toward the window. "I've got to get climbing. Mr. Davvy checks our curfew head count in about ten minutes and—don't tell anyone—heights scare the daylights out of me. I move like a sloth on these edges compared to you."

"Really?"

"I never thought you'd make it to the lounge before me." A cool breeze brushes my shoulders a moment after he opens the window.

"Hugging the side of the building in my bra and underwear gave me a little motivation to move fast."

"Maybe I'll try it in my boxers next time."

"Tell me how that works out for you." I pull what's left of my hair back, but it doesn't make it anywhere close to a ponytail. His eyebrow lifts as I do it. "What?"

"Nothing." He chuckles, glances at the ground, and then those eyes capture mine, the golden flecks dancing with energy. "How about I meet you after breakfast near the stairs?"

"I'll be there."

He swings a leg out the window with a cockeyed grin. "Edelweiss?"

"Yeah?"

"Your hair looks hot. Don't let Emma cut you down. She's not worth your mental energy, trust me on this one."

The moment I close the window behind him, I have to sit down. My face feels too warm, far surpassing my normal blush. My breath begs to be steadied, but even as I start my pranayama exercises, I see his eyes. Feel his smile.

Okay. That's not working. I get up and pace the room. So what if I blush a bit when he compliments me. Hearing I'm pretty just isn't something I'm used to. The blushing will pass once we fall into a routine. He's a nice, honest guy who happens to be my fake boyfriend.

Nothing more.
Chapter Ten

James

Brockmore's Friday night movie tradition is one of the reasons I love it here. There's seriously nothing like settling into my favorite seat in the lecture hall after a long game with my arm around a girl in a dark corner. It's an opportunity to zone out, whether it's staring at a screen or losing myself in a pair of lips for the rest of the evening.

I glance at the clock while I dress after my shower. The film should have started by now.

"James?" Gavin knocks on the bay of lockers with the collar of his T-shirt tugged up over his nose. "How do you handle the stank of this place? It's as if skunks sprayed themselves in Axe Body Spray and rolled in a tub of sweat. Thank God you don't bring this smell back to our room."

"You get used to it after the first year."

"This is why I stick to my guitar. The next time I contemplate joining the soccer team, please drag me down here."

"Their tryouts were four weeks ago."

"It was never meant to be." He presses his shoulder blades up against the locker. "So what's up?"

"What do you mean?"

"You usually lead the team out of the locker room, especially on Fridays after a big win."

"Not really feeling the movie tonight."

"How come?"

I give him the look. We've had many discussions on this topic, and I've made him swear he'd never tell anyone.

"Oh no way! A horror flick!" Excitement blazes over his face like I'd just informed him he won a new guitar. "This is like the sweetest revenge for all the times I've had to sit through the comedy specials you binge-watch on Netflix." He slams his fist into my shoulder.

My exhausted bicep stings in protest after Proctor nailed that exact same spot an hour earlier. "Ow."

"Sorry. I thought that's what guys did here." He glances around the locker room and tugs his black leather jacket in tight. "What movie is it that has you by the balls?"

"Remember that trailer you showed me last year? The one with the guy in the black coat and the shaking camera?"

Gavin has never smiled so brightly. "You didn't sleep for two nights."

"It was creepy as hell, man."

"Well, I'd offer to sit by you to hold your hand, but you have your girlfriend now, which is the other reason I decided to brave the stench in here. She's been waiting on that stupid wall for ages, dude."

My stomach drops. Time to add failure number two to the list. This is exactly why I'd suck at being a real boyfriend. "Seriously? You couldn't have led off with that when you walked in here?"

"And miss you squirming like this? It's a once in a lifetime opportunity. Anyway, don't sweat it. She's been out there working on that essay you helped me with last year. The one on Maya Angelou's book?"

I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings. We had to take a different approach to his essay than I used with mine. It was a lot easier for me to feel the racism in verses that Gavin breezed through, barely considering their weight. Which reminds me not to wear my hoodie. Julie taught me the rules Dad never thought to consider the moment I moved in with her. No hoodies after sunset, tuck in your shirt when you go into town, pull your hands out of your pockets, and always make eye contact with the salesperson the moment you walk through the door and add an exaggerated smile.

I tug on my Brockmore blazer instead and stuff my team hoodie into my duffle. "Can you please do me a solid and bring my duffle up to our room? I don't want her to have to wait for me again."

"You assume no one is waiting for me?"

"The fact you're standing with me here in the guys' locker room screams that you're single."

"Screw you." Gavin grins, but still he slings my duffle over his shoulder. "Prepare to wake up with a man in a black coat at your bedside tonight."

"Dude, I'd have my hands around your throat before I even realized it was a joke."

Gavin gulps. "Noted. So are you going to the movie tonight? It may be good for you to finally confront your fears."

"Edelweiss is in the film club now. If she'll be there, I'll be there. Plus, Creighton plans to announce the results of the student council elections after the film. Anyone running for a spot has to show up."

"You'll get the gig. Now, don't forget the girl." Gavin nods toward the adjacent hallway where Edelweiss waits. "Good luck."

Right. Walking Edelweiss to class felt easier today than earlier in the week. People have stopped staring at her, and she seemed a bit more relaxed about her hand being in mine. Today we had a real conversation about a ballet performance she saw once in Prague. For some reason, I told her about the dance school my mom started. For the first time, it didn't feel taboo to talk about her.

Down the hall, Edelweiss sits with her knees tucked into her chest, scribbling on a notepad while using her toe to keep Maya Angelou's book open.

"I'd call that dedication," I say as I approach her.

"James." She tucks her things away in her messenger bag and brushes off her butt after she stands up. "Sorry I didn't notice when you came out," she whispers, glancing around us like she expects a hidden camera.

"You're sorry?" I can't help but grin. Who is this girl? "If I ever make you wait this long again, I hope you put on a good show of being pissed off and leave."

"Once the hallway emptied out, I didn't mind so much. The quiet is nice, and I needed some extra time to work on my essay."

"Still. Expect better from me, because I expect better of myself." I reach out to take her hand as we walk, in case anyone sees us. When my skin brushes hers, it feels like I slammed an energy drink.

"Are you nervous about the council results?" I open the door, trying to use my body to block the cutting wind from stinging our faces on the way out.

"Yes." She draws a strand of her blond hair behind her ear, revealing her slender jaw. She really is beautiful. Couldn't have done better in the looks department for a fake girlfriend. "My parents want me to call them tonight to let them know how the election goes. Telling my parents—diplomats—that I couldn't snag a place on the student council seems worse than telling them I've failed an exam."

"You'll get a spot. I heard a lot of people were going to vote for you."

"Really?"

"Jordan and the guys in your grade talked about it at lunch." My mouth dries a bit at the white lie. To my credit, they were talking about her, just not in relationship to student council and more in relationship to her butt. Thankfully, I already know we both snagged a spot on the council: it's one of the few benefits of having Julie as my aunt.

I nod to the tech geeks sitting on the steps outside of the science building. Ainsley catches my eye from beneath her hoodie with that stupid e-cig tucked in between her lips. I give her a stern glare. She knows our grandpa died from lung cancer.

Edelweiss squeezes my hand. "Look!" She points to the movie poster taped to the door of the science building. "I can't believe I'm finally getting to see Let Me Go! When they voted for my suggestion at the first film club meeting, I was shocked."

"Wait." I tug her to a halt. "This was your idea?"

She nods with a blazing smile, her blue eyes wide and sparkling.

"You like horror films?"

She drops my palm, bringing both hands to her heart with wide eyes. "I'm obsessed. Got hooked after accidently seeing The Exorcist when I was nine. Didn't sleep for five days. Lately I've been on a classics kick, so The Shining is my current favorite. What's yours?"

"That one." I cough, nodding toward the dark lecture hall and the small popcorn stand at the entrance. There's no way on earth anyone is getting me to watch The Shining. "Popcorn?"

"Sure." She opens her purse, searching for what I can only imagine is her wallet.

"It's free." The freshman says from behind the cart as he hands over one large bag, slathered in butter. "Think of this place like an all-inclusive resort but replace the beach with textbooks and the lifeguards with teachers."

"Thank you."

I hand her the bag of popcorn and walk behind her into the lecture hall. Instantly, the sound of a horrific, chilling wind sends a shiver up my spine.

Freaking horror movies ruin everything. Even wind ends up with a bad rap.

"You okay?" she asks.

"A little cold."

"Do you want my sweater?" She eyes me.

"I'm pretty sure your sweater wouldn't have fit me when I was twelve. Even if it did fit, I'll never be caught dead taking a sweater from my girlfriend. Up this way," I whisper as we head into the dark.

I make my way up the steps toward the back seats, away from the prying eyes of Emma, who's sitting in the middle with her underclassman groupies. My phone buzzes the moment my ass hits the plush seat.

Gavin: You've only missed about three minutes. They had technical problems.

Ugh. Should have hung out longer in the locker room.

This guy is running with a loaded gun, away from Central Park. That's all you need to know.

Brilliant.

For ten minutes this dimwit bumbles around New York City, and every time he turns a corner, I have to drop my eyes from the screen to focus on the oak desk at the front of the lecture hall.

My hands grip the side of my chair when the creepier music begins to fade in. This is where it happens, where the guy steps out in the coat and is propelled ninety miles an hour toward the camera like they showed on the preview. I recognize the pile of trash in the back of the scene from the trailer.

"You okay?" Edelweiss whispers.

I nod, trying to stay cool. It's only a movie and—AHHH!

My ass literally flies off my seat while this flying dude's pupils dilate gray and zoom toward me.

A warm hand settles on the back of mine. "James?"

I nod to her.

"Okay." She pulls her soft palm away, and its absence burns. The torturous windy whistle starts again, his theme song, and I know the next time I see that black coat I'm going to scream bloody murder like all the freshmen down front. I reach over, carefully placing her hand on mine again.

"Just..." My heart's in my throat. Words aren't an option anymore. I give her hand a firm squeeze. Stay.

"How about I keep this here in case anyone's looking?" She flips my hand over, intertwining my fingers in hers. As she does, the energy I felt on the way in returns, and I'm tossed into turmoil. This shouldn't feel so good, especially when I'm watching a movie about a possessed shooter.

The energy takes my focus off the movie and onto Edel. She's leaning back in her seat with a relaxed grin like she's watching The Sound of Music or something. Who is this girl?

The movie draws on for another seventy-one minutes. Seventy-one minutes of concentrating on how our hands fit together perfectly.

It's just me, the sound of that chilling wind-blowing-through theme music, and Edel's hand, never shifting, always constant.

"It's over," she whispers just in time for me to open my eyes before the lights turn on.

I survey the room and almost everyone sits shocked, staring at the blank screen in utter silence.

Julie rushes to the podium. "Oh my. I thought, since it was rated PG-13, it wouldn't be so..."

"Awesome?" Proctor shouts. "Top horror film of last year, baby!"

A few girls in the front row squeal at the sound of a door opening, triggering the soccer team to climb over their seats, whistling that awful wind sound behind the girls' ears.

And just that like I know exactly what to do for the senior prank.

"Oh, come on. Y'all need to get a grip." Proctor laughs, tossing his crumpled-up bag of popcorn at those girls down front.

"John Proctor, please sit down."

"How about next Friday I'll make it up to you with a Toy Story marathon?" Julie offers the room, and I swear I know exactly what's scrolling through her brain. Please do not tell your parents we screened this.

The room cheers. No one is going to complain about Woody and Buzz. Freaking heroes! The first time I watched the scene where they sneak off to Bonnie's house was the day I understood what a therapeutic cry was all about.

"Well." Creighton straightens her skirt. "How about a little happy news? The results of the student council election are in."

Literally everyone in the hall but Edelweiss groans. One guy even hops out of his seat and bolts out the exit.

"Why are they groaning?" Edelweiss shifts to the edge of her chair.

"They're tired." There's no way I have the heart to tell her that the school views the council as a complete joke, not after watching her toil over the election all week.

Creighton reads off the new members from youngest to oldest. Edelweiss's hand turns white, clenching mine while Creighton reads the junior class reps. When her name is called, she squeals.

"Told you." I move aside so she can climb past me, and as she does, I can't help but notice her butt. Damn.

She skips down the stairs to the front of the room to join the other reps. A few minutes later, I join her. Creighton introduces the officers, and my jaw drops open when she announces Gavin as student council president.

He crawls out of the front row, standing next to me while Creighton closes off the night. The moment she steps away from the podium, I lean into his shoulder. "I didn't see your name on the ballot."

"No one else wanted the job, so it was uncontested. Figured if I was going to be waking you up for meetings I may as well drag my own ass out of bed and amp up my résumé."

"You're saving me, man, you know that?" I'd told him about the council being my punishment, but I never in a million years thought he'd join.

"So, how was the movie?" Gavin grins, leaning up against the empty podium. "Going to survive the night?"

I glance over at Edelweiss, who's chatting with Tuti and Jordan in the front row. She catches my eye, her blue eyes connecting deep with my own. Her head shifts a millimeter, and she lifts an eyebrow. Something in me shifts, almost like a missing piece moves into place. There's something about Edel that feels more constant than anyone I've ever known. Like she's in this with me, even during horror movies. My shoulders suddenly feel light.

"It was no big deal." I slap Gavin on the shoulder. "Turns out it's a lot easier to watch a horror movie when you have a fearless girlfriend."
Chapter Eleven

Edelweiss

"Ms. Lee?" Mr. Tate pulls down his spectacles, sneering. "I do appreciate that you aren't answering your phone in class, but by all means spare us its constant vibration. It's like trying to speak over a toy motorboat."

"You're giving her permission to answer texts in class?" Emma's voice carries down from the back row.

"Ms. Brown, do you think I'm unaware that you've been Snapchatting all hour?" Mr. Tate replaces his bifocals. "Whether or not you guys understand this content is on your shoulders. I get paid either way. Now, what was I saying about covalent bonds?"

I can't help but smile while I sneak my phone out from under my book. Hearing Emma get burned feels so good. After one week, Mr. Tate has proved to be my favorite teacher. He uses an ancient overhead projector, and his scribbles are barely legible, which I'm beginning to suspect is a sly trick to focus our attention. Unlike the English and history departments, Mr. Tate has yet to make us break into small groups to discuss the material. Thank goodness. Sitting in a circle and being forced to share is brutal. No one actually shares what they're thinking. Instead people spout out what they think the teacher wants to hear, or if the teacher isn't within hearing distance, they try to one-up each other. A complete waste of time, but I guess it allows me to check the whole group discussion experience off my list.

When Mr. Tate isn't looking, I glance down at my phone, expecting yet another text from my mom about James. She's been teasing me since I told her about us earlier this week. It's like her new hobby. In her last text, she sent a link to this gaudy his-and-her necklace set that she found on Etsy, offering to get us a pair for Christmas. I swear I could hear her laughter through her deadpan text.

A wave of relief rolls over my shoulders when I see the text is actually from James. He's sent a photo of a guy walking down the street in a black trench coat.

Nearly died on the way back to Brockmore! Where were you when I needed you most?

Needed me? The idea takes root like a light tickle.

Learning about covalent bonds. Didn't you have Calc II this afternoon?

The bell from the English building's tower rings; the tone is warm and rocking. Mr. Tate drops his marker midsentence, like he's more desperate to leave the classroom than we are. "Get out of here," he barks.

Jordan stands up in the row in front of me and cranks his head around to catch Tuti on her way out. "Tuti." He shakes his head. "I think I'm going to have to hire you to tutor me in chemistry too. That went way over my head."

Tutor. So that's what he calls it. Those two steal away with each other at any free moment, yet they never touch.

Tuti tucks her iPad into her bag, her long thick lashes beating fast. "Jordan, I swear you are stupid on purpose."

"Me? No." Jordan winks at me the moment Tuti turns her back. She's so hot! Help me! he mouths.

"Actually, Tuti, I was about to ask you the same thing. It was a bit over my head too," I offer.

"This is my worst subject, you guys. You don't want my help."

"Ah, but you're brilliant, Tuti. You at your worst is still better than my best. Come on, explain it to me over dinner."

"Fine." She groans. "Do you want to join us?"

"No, thanks. I think I'm meeting up with James tonight." My phone buzzes again.

Ms. Jennison was ill so I popped into town to get us dinner. Meet me in the library?

When I glance up from reading the text, Tuti and Jordan are already on their way out of the lecture hall. The more I get to know Tuti, the more puzzled I become over whatever she's got going on with Jordan. She's an expert at dodging the subject. It's getting a little annoying being left in the dark, because clearly those two have something between them. But who am I to talk? James and I may appear linked at the hip, but the moment we get behind closed doors, he drops my hand and we put some major space between us.

I lean into the door, then tug my cardigan shut on my way across the quad to the library. Brockmore's library is enchanting. Constructed out of white limestone and detailed with Doric columns, it's almost as if it popped out of a small town's storybook. The center of the building houses a large glass dome, providing the most delicious natural reading light during the day.

The library has sort of become my home away from my dorm room. There's a small table tucked up against a wall near abandoned encyclopedias and some law books. A little table and some silence feels more like school to me than a classroom and a lecture or discussion-based curriculum.

After showing my student ID at the front desk, I search for James. Long tables line the center of the library with outlet strips glued down the middle. I set my bag down on one because these will fill quickly once dinner lets out.

Another vibration has me pulling out my phone.

Don't sit there.

I glance up, searching the vast room for his head of black hair.

Where are you?

At your table, where else?

How does he know about my table? I slide my bag back on my shoulder and wander through the stacks toward the reference section, taking a left at the back wall near the bathroom. My small, round table looks like an end table with him sitting there.

"You found me." He glances up from his notebook.

"You know my table."

"What type of boyfriend would I be if I didn't know you spent every evening back here?"

"Still." I set down my bag and pull out my iPad and a notebook. "How?"

"It's not my fault you don't see me when I walk by or listen when I say hi. You have more concentration for calculus than anyone I've ever seen. It's like you enter another world."

"Math intrigues me. There's always an answer if you work on it long enough."

"It's a bit defeating when your own girlfriend cares more about a dividend than your rock-hard body." His chest bubbles with a silent chuckle, his muscles undeniably rippling under his shirt.

I roll my eyes, taking my seat. "Why are we back here? If you want people to see us together, shouldn't we be out front?"

"No, and there's a queue of reasons, but I don't want to bore you so I'll just rattle off the top three. First, I don't want to get caught having dinner in here." He points to the sign on the wall a few feet away that lists the rules of the library, number one being no food allowed.

"Second, I don't want to be bothered. If I sit at any of the center tables, I won't get any work done." He eyes some sophomores near the computer lab.

"You need to get work done?" I can't help but crack a smile. Far too many times I've caught James joking with guys on the football team that he does his homework in his sleep. "What's so bad about being caught studying?"

"Nothing. But, I don't exactly want to be caught doing this." He spins his notebook around so I can read the heading he's scribbled across the top—Brockmore's First Annual Ghoul Ball.

"Normally they do a Sadie Hawkins dance in the fall." He feigns a gag. "I'm so over that. I want to ditch that for a costume party. Gavin's on board and so is Creighton, so I just need to rally council support before we take a vote."

"Wow." I settle back in my seat, folding my hands in my lap. "It seems like you are actually enjoying being on the council."

Once I sat through the first meeting, all of my dreams of being in a proper student government were popped. It felt like I was the only person who actually wanted to be there, and the rest were only there for something to scribble down on their college applications. Some just slept with their heads on their desk while Gavin waved around his gavel.

"I'm willing to tolerate anything if it'll help keep me in Brockmore."

Is that how he feels about me? Tolerant?

"How does the council keep you in Brockmore?"

"Creighton didn't give me many options after that little prairie-dog incident."

"It's a punishment?" My stomach growls, the sound absurdly audible.

"Sorry! I forgot." He pulls out four containers of sushi from the plastic bag on the table. "I hope you like sushi."

"Are you kidding me?" I tug over one of the caterpillar rolls. "I lived in Japan for a few months when I was eight and fell in love." I sink my teeth into the cold, soft roll, overwhelmed by the warm sting of wasabi. "This is so good."

"Even though it's not authentic?"

"This works." The cold cucumber crunches with my next bite. "So, what's your third reason for being back here?"

For a moment, he's hesitant to respond. The plastic bag crinkles as he curls his pinky into it. Then those eyes, bright and bold like rosewood, flicker up and grab mine. "I wanted to have a real dinner with you. Find out more about your life."

"I'm not that interesting."

He pops a slice of maki into his mouth. "Not true. You were the only girl at the movie last week who wasn't freaking out. It was..." He chuckles, shaking his head.

"Odd?" I offer the word I know he wants to use. Of course I'm odd. I've been homeschooled my entire life, drifting around the world.

"Very, and I like it." He reaches out and rests his hand on mine. During any of our dinners in the dining hall, this wouldn't even make me even flinch. It's his signature move, part of the game we play to keep our status known. But here? The brush of his palm warms the back of my hand instantly. "Oh, sorry." He pulls it back. "Habit."

"It's okay." I take another bite of my sushi. Hopefully he'll attribute the heat on my cheeks to too much wasabi.

"You're interesting. How on earth did you survive the movie?"

"Do you really want to know? Because it's kind of a bummer."

"Yes. Maybe then I won't jump a mile every time I see a black coat."

"My parents wanted me to understand why they do the work they do. I've been in the red-light district in the Philippines. I've seen people sobbing over loved ones killed in Turkey." My eyes begin to burn, and I have to pause as the engraved memories assault me. "There was this homeless guy in India who always sat at the street corner across from our flat, and I'd do little things for him like bring him food and stuff, but it never seemed to help. I guess horror movies just don't feel real compared to those moments. There's this edge in a horror flick that's so unbelievable after seeing what I've seen, that I sort of have to devour it."

"Damn." James rubs his forehead. "I was not expecting you to say that."

"Sorry."

"No." He closes the notebook in front of him. "You should talk about that stuff more often. It's off everyone's radar in this school."

"If people knew the things I've seen or the walks I've taken, it's all they would ask me about."

"But your experiences shape you."

"They aren't all I am, though." Because of my parents, too many conversations in my life have revolved around people asking me about traveling and nothing else. I like how my friends at Brockmore care more about my favorite dessert or Netflix show. Finally, people seem to want to get to know the real me.

He pushes another piece of sushi toward me. "You're pretty cool, Edelweiss. I picked a pretty awesome fake girlfriend."

"Thanks." I turn on my iPad and open up my ebook of The Brothers Karamazov. "My parents told me you're brilliant with literature."

"It intrigues me. Why?"

"My Maya Angelou essay was ripped apart." I sigh, remembering the burn in my chest when I stared at my first C. I've sort of been kicking myself for writing that damn list. It's easy to write down fail at something but way worse to feel your way through it. And it was only a C. Technically I can't even check failing off the list yet.

"I remember that essay. That topic sucked. Don't be too hard on yourself."

"Well, I'm hoping to do better with this one by Dostoyevsky."

His eyes light up, glancing down at my iPad. "Uncovering the intricacies of a Dostoyevsky novel is one of my favorite pastimes. Do you need help?"

I let out a deep, frustrated breath. "Let's just say that my homeschool English curriculum was probably something Brockmore would have put a fifth-grader through if they did elementary school. My parents focused mostly on math and world history."

James shifts his chair so he's sitting next to me. "Let's do this. Where do you want to start?"

"I have to define tragedy using only my assigned chapter in a micro-essay of six hundred words." I spin my notebook around so he can see a few of the themes I had jotted down during our group discussion, arranging my thought pattern like a geometry proof.

"Wow. I should have picked up some coffee."

"It's okay, you don't have to help me. My parents aren't expecting me to walk out with all A's my first semester."

"No, I want to help you. Give me one second." He pushes himself away from the table and disappears in the library shelves, returning a moment later with a book in hand. "You need to hold the book to understand his pacing and do this right." He hands it over and as he does his hand lightly brushes mine. A warm tingle crawls up my right hand toward my heart. "This will be fun."

He slides a little closer, and for the first time I notice he smells of sandalwood. We work through the chapter together, and he shows me how he marks up a book, pulling out different themes. He's a great encourager. Being with him feels like he's shining a spotlight on me. When I start to see the text differently, his energy builds, and hearing "You're doing a good job" becomes addicting.

How can this be the same guy all the girls warned me to avoid?

Predictably, the library bustles after the dinner hour, making the librarian go into full-on surveillance mode. We even get the stink eye while she makes her rounds of the stacks, but it's nothing compared to the thorough chewing-out she gives the senior guys laughing at a table.

"That reminds me." James shifts away from me briefly. "The guys are getting a bit suspicious."

"Of us?"

"Remember our rules?"

"We've done nearly every one except..."

"Except one." His eyes flicker down to my mouth.

Oh.

Making out is the one item I've been dreading because I know I'm going to screw it up. I glance down the row of books to the center tables where some of the bulky football players clutter around a laptop.

"Don't worry. I didn't ask you here tonight so I could pounce on you in the stacks. I wanted to be here—in back where we are alone—so we can hash out a plan for some time this week."

Later this week?

One of the football players, I think Mason, glances over his shoulder, straining his eyes to get a look at us through the aisle of books. He gets up and passes us with a grunt on the way to the bathroom.

My heart jumps in my throat. A sudden urgency rips through my chest. Here's a chance. If we do this here, it'll be more private, and if I screw up, the strict librarian will ensure that no one can laugh at me. "Why wait?"

"Are you sure? I don't want to make you uncomfortable."

"What part of a fake relationship isn't uncomfortable? We don't have long if we're going to be seen when he comes back."

He nods down a row of magazines an aisle over. "If you stand against those and I angle my head just right, we won't have to actually kiss. He'll see us through the bookcase on his way back from the bathroom, and it'll look good enough."

"Okay." I tremble while I stand up, allowing him to lead me down the row to the best spot.

He cocks his eye. "Forgive me?" Then he rubs his hand through my hair. "There. Make-out hair is a must. When I see him coming, I'll lean in. Then you tilt your head to the right. That's all we'll need. Okay?"

"Okay." My breath quickens while we wait.

...and wait.

Suddenly, from my view, I see Mason walking with a book in his hand. Wait. This is wrong. He's supposed to be behind me, on the other side of the shelf. He's going to see us and know we're faking all of it.

My tiptoes take over, launching me upward so my lips brush against James's. His eyes widen and for a second, he's frozen.

Please, play along. I kiss him again, gripping his shoulder. A beat later, he scoops me in closer and kisses me back. My lips melt as I press my hand to his chest, the thumping of his heart under my palm. His lips explore mine, every brush setting my body ablaze. Whoa. Tingles shoot up my neck and down my arms. My knees quake while he expertly makes us look like we're sharing a Hollywood kiss.

Gently, he pulls back, lowering my heels back to the ground. An energy hovers between us. He smiles, sweeping my tousled hair out of my face.

My lips tingle, begging to brush once more against his.

My first kiss! My knees wobble. Does a kiss count if it's fake?

A deep growl snaps me back to reality. "Damn it, James. You have all the fun around here." A magazine flies through the air toward our heads.

James snatches it before it hits us. "How's the group study going over there?"

Mason grumbles, giving us the finger as he walks past. A few seconds after he rejoins the football table James's cell phone vibrates in his back pocket.

"Looks like it worked." My voice cracks. His hand still cups my lower back, keeping me near.

"Yeah." He rakes his hand through his hair, letting me go. "Smart thinking."

"I didn't know what else to do."

He cocks his head to the side, those large brown eyes studying me like I'm an alien. Finally, he clears his throat. "Next time I'll do a better job planning so we don't have to..." There's a sting in his expression, how he frowns, almost like I humiliated him or something.

"I should probably get back to the dorm," I finally say, breaking his stare and walking back to the table with him trailing a few steps behind.

"Uh, you did good with the lit analysis."

"Thanks for your help tonight." I stuff my things into my bag and throw on my peacoat.

"No problem." He reaches back, massaging his neck while I toss everything into my bag.

"Later," he says with a frank nod while he settles back down in his chair.

I keep my head down as I weave through the stacks, my cheeks burning as I make my way past the football players while they make kissing noises. The weight of my thoughts crash over my shoulders.

You drooled too much.

He thinks you're a freak.

You leaned in too hard.

While you could barely stand from his kiss, he felt nothing.

There's only one person in this world who can fix me right now—Mom.

Outside the library I pull out my iPad and wander around to the other side of the building. The cool stone chills my back as I press against it and dial her up. I have to try her twice, but eventually the screen turns over and we connect.

"Mom?"

A poorly pixelated screen shows her face, scrunched up and confused. "What is it, baby?"

"Oh, Mom." A deep sting settles in my eyes until I let the tears fall. I gaze at her through the screen as the pixels fix themselves, transmitting her with better clarity. Her long hair tumbles over her shoulders and a light yawn escapes her lips. "I didn't mean to wake you. I'm sorry," I say.

"Edelweiss, don't be silly. I'm your mother. I'll always be here when you call. Always."

Apparently, that's all I needed to hear to become the girl clutching her backpack to her chest while she cries against the library wall. "Brockmore is way harder than I thought it would be," I tell her, unable to reveal the real source of my tears: my first kiss was fake, I did it wrong, and I want more. "I'm pretty sure I'm going to get an F on my midterm English essay."

"Calm down, honey. I was waiting for this call."

"You were?"

"I made the same call to my own mother my first year of college. This is normal. Failing is part of life. If you do get an F, consider it a lesson, and we'll do whatever it takes to make sure you have the support you need to excel. It's better you fail here than at college." She grins. "I'm so proud that you stood up for yourself and insisted on going to boarding school to get ready for college. At the time, I didn't see the cracks in my educational plan, but just reading Brockmore's blog about what they taught you in class over the last few weeks blows my mind. I was expecting this call much sooner."

She presses her lips together into a thin line. "Maybe you could ask James to help you? Or would that be awkward because you're dating?" She sighs. "That's the hard part about being away. I don't know what type of relationship you guys really have."

You'd be devastated.

"He helped me tonight. A lot. That's the problem, I don't know if I can pull it off without his insight."

"Give yourself time to learn, honey. You'll figure it out, and don't assume you'll fail before you even write the essay. So, tell me about your friends."

Talking with her helps, even though it's about the wrong subject. The predictable cadence of her voice is like aloe to a burn. "You'll be okay, honey. Call me in the morning, and we'll talk. I love you, and remember, everything feels better when the sun comes up."

She always says that but right now I'm tempted to call in sick so I don't have to face James in the morning. Pretty sure I just ruined our fake relationship. And what sucks—no, what hurts—is that kissing James tonight felt way better than I'm sure it was supposed to, and I just traded in my first-kiss card to a guy who probably didn't even want to kiss me in the first place.
Chapter Twelve

James

Well...that was...I mean...

The faded blue lines on the page of my notebook blur. My chest feels like it's floating above my head while my legs are cemented to the floor. I'm terrified that if I move an inch, I'll end up chasing her down to pick up where we left off. My Pop Rock–peppered lips tingle, still shocked at meeting hers. The moment she brushed her lips into mine, I couldn't let her go if I tried. Instead, I scooped her closer and... Well, I freaked her out.

The look on her face afterward spoke a thousand words. No girl has ever packed up and left me to go do something better before.

It should sting. I should be offended that she doesn't see what a "great opportunity" she just had, and that thought—to the bottom of my soul—disgusts me.

It's exactly what I thought last year about myself, an excuse to jump from girl to girl because I was giving them all a gift: me.

My stomach turns over. I should have let that magazine hit me in the face.

Edelweiss tasted my ego. No wonder she bolted with her books clutched to her chest like I'd stung her.

My phone vibrates on the table. Damn it. Dad will have Julie move me out of the dorms by morning if he hears about this from Edel's father.

When I flip it over, I'm astonished that his text has nothing to do with Edelweiss. He can make it to the football game next week for senior night! Julie offered to stand next to me when she found out Dad couldn't make it, but considering I still need to wade through eight more months of Brockmore, it wouldn't be worth giving up our charade. It'd be too easy for people to attribute all I've achieved at Brockmore to simply being the headmistress's nephew. I don't want people to doubt what I've earned through hard work—every A or all of the pieces I've had placed on literary websites and in magazines. Not to mention the bombardment of complaints from some of the football booster parents who probably would assume I'm a starter because Julie forced the coach to put me there.

Yes. Keeping Julie separate from me at Brockmore is crucial.

I glance back down at Dad's text and grin. Having Dad there will be amazing. The first time I introduced my dad to the team during my freshman year they thought I was pulling a prank. No one expects a black athlete to have a white, freckled Irish father, especially not genetically.

Edelweiss will like him a lot. That is, she'll like him if she's still willing to help me out.

I dial her number, pressing the phone to my ear on my way out of the library. "Edelweiss?"

"Yeah?" Her voice is weak.

Yup. I royally messed this up. Again.

"Where are you?"

"Outside." A warmer sound of her voice floats through the air, not just through the phone. She's near.

"Edel?" I call out, hanging up the phone.

She steps out from the far corner of the library, her bag still clutched to her chest.

As I jog over, I can tell that something's off. Her face is splotchy, and she looks a little lost. "Why are you still here?"

Her mascara is smudged below her eye. Oh shit. I made her cry.

She studies the cracks in the sidewalk. "I needed someplace quiet to speak with my mom. Didn't want to interrupt Tuti in our room."

"Sometimes dorm living gets a little crowded." I reach out, touching her wrist. "Are you okay?"

"Yup." She nods firmly, stepping forward. "What's up?"

"My dad is coming to the game next week."

"Cool."

"You'll get to meet him."

"I guess so."

"Hey..." My feet shift as the discomfort between us twirls in this odd, closed-off dance. "Can we be real with each other?"

Her crystal-blue eyes widen, yet her lips don't move. It's neither a no nor a yes, but it's an opening that I've got to take.

"Okay." I hold out my hand to her before I even think. Coach says it takes a habit twenty-one days to root and sixty-six days to form. Well, it's only been eleven days with Edelweiss, yet I can't help but want to keep her close. The rhythm of our hand-holding has become second nature.

And I like it. I like everything about her in a way I've never liked a girl before.

Reluctantly, she takes my hand and strolls with me to the large tree in the middle of the quad where we sit. The grass is a bit cold. The light from the library bounces off her eyes. "What's wrong?" she asks.

"I messed up in there, and I'm sorry."

"You messed up?" She tucks in her lower lip.

"I took the kiss too far." I kick at an early yellow leaf that's already fluttered to the ground.

"I thought..." She pauses, and those thick lashes sweep downward. A warm hue accentuates her cheeks. "Never mind."

"No." I squeeze her hand. "What we have won't work if we keep our mouths shut when we need to speak. We won't convince anyone if we aren't on common ground."

What we have? How can I say that when I don't even know what this is?

"I thought you were grossed out because I did it wrong. You have so much experience and I don't, and I know you weren't meaning for us to kiss, but I didn't know what to do with Mason coming. He was going to see us and I didn't think there was any other way and it's not like a girl is taught these things—"

I hold up my hand to end her rant. "Edelweiss." Even now, my lips still tingle, begging me for one more taste. "I can assure you from the bottom of my soul that you did not kiss me wrong."

"Really?"

"Nope. Is that why you left the library so quick?"

"I figured you needed your distance after I attacked you like that." She forces out a cracked laugh. "You looked at me like I was a zombie."

"Let's just say the kiss was more than good." I nudge her in the side, changing the subject before I spill out that I'm still holding her hand because I like how soft it feels and how it fits so well in my own, not to put on a show to the students still out on the quad. "Anyway, are we still solid?"

"Yup."

The bell in the English tower rings out the ten-minute warning for the campus curfew.

She glances at the clock on the front of the math building. "We should probably go."

"Wait." The word escapes me before I even know what I want to say. A warmth burns steady in my chest. "Why are you still in this with me? Being in a fake relationship is ridiculous."

She releases her hand from mine and climbs to her feet. "You don't deserve to be pulled out of Brockmore. James, I don't know who you were before and how you acted, but you're awesome now. Your dad needs to see how much you've changed, and I'll hang in there as long as it takes you to convince him."

"Thank you."

"Plus, you're the only person on campus I can be honest with."

A rawness gnaws at my insides. This is all wrong. This complex, beautiful girl should not feel like I'm the only person she can be real with. "It's a side effect of our agreement, Edelweiss. You shouldn't feel like you have to hide stuff from Tuti, Ainsley, and Charlotte because of me."

"It's worth it if it means you stay. Brockmore wouldn't be Brockmore without you." This time she extends her hand, allowing me to keep hold of it while we walk together back into Brockmore Hall. I land a soft kiss on her cheek in front of everyone leaving the lounge and wish her a good night's sleep.

A few girls from my year sigh, and my heart plummets. Their reaction should make me puff out my chest and jump for joy. We are dominating this fake relationship, but everything in me feels like I've made a huge mistake. Edelweiss deserve better than this.

...

Senior night is giant. Families fly in from all over the country to stand next to their sons in the end zone or watch the game with their kids from the bleachers. It's bigger than homecoming. The stadium is packed, and I'm thankful that we're playing the easiest team in our division, because the thought of introducing Edelweiss to my dad after the game makes me want to hurl.

I'm terrified my dad will take one look at us together and tell me to cut the act. This could very well be my last night at Brockmore.

The halftime buzzer sounds, and the stadium roars. "Family members of the senior players, please make your way to the end zone." The announcer's voice blares through the speakers.

Parents and grandparents pour out of the stands, but Dad's puff of red hair isn't in sight. He told me he'd be a little late and—for a second—I look to Julie. Maybe she knows where he is. Unfortunately, her neck is craned around while she scans the crowd for him too.

Then, a familiar holler of my name catches in my chest. I turn around to see my dad in full dress uniform limping onto the field from the far west fence near the parking lot. "Son." He pulls me into a hug. "I'm sorry I'm a bit late."

"Don't sweat it. You made it right on time."

We jog over to the others who've already found their space in the end zone. I lead him to my mark at the end of the line. As the captain, I will be the last student featured.

They begin the videos of each student, showing pictures of us playing football as children and our evolution through senior year. All the moms on the field are beaming, clutching their sons' hands. When my video plays on the Jumbotron, Dad rests his hand on my shoulder. He gives it a deep squeeze, and when I look back to him when the video is over, there's a small tear rolling down his cheek.

There's nothing in this world that I want more than to make him proud. I tossed off for a few years, but every moment from here on out I will try to be half the man he is.

Badges pepper his dress blues. His purple heart catches my eye. A shot in the leg during his first deployment, which ended his hopeful soccer career. This moment must mean more to him than I can even fathom.

When the video ends, the stadium roars. Julie snatches a box of Kleenex. I catch sight of Edelweiss in the crowd, cheering in the T-shirt she made of my jersey number.

Dad follows my gaze. "Is that Edelweiss?"

"Yup."

"When do I get to meet her? I haven't seen her since she was in diapers."

My chest aches from the constant pounding of my heart. "Right now, if you want."

"Absolutely."

"Stay here. I'll be right back." Dad would hate climbing the bleachers with his leg. He does everything he can to avoid people noticing his war injury. It's not something he likes to talk about much, and I don't blame him.

I wave to Edelweiss and hop over the fence into the stands. My feet pound against the metal steps as I jog up. Ainsley's wide eyes are fixed on the field, watching our father limp to the sidelines. I pause, leaning down while I pass behind her and whisper, "He'll love you, Ainsley. Never doubt that."

She doesn't even flinch, so I move on. Doubt she can hear anything with how transfixed she is on him.

"Great job out there," Edelweiss says when I reach her.

"You still have no clue what I'm doing on the field, do you?"

"You catch the football and run. What else is there to know?" She winks with a smile, and suddenly I feel like I'm climbing the first hill of a massive roller coaster. I sort of adore that she couldn't care less about the specifics. She glances out at the field. "Is that your dad down there?"

"Yup. Want to meet him?"

She's already climbing past Tuti as she answers. "Of course. Plus my parents would be livid if I didn't properly introduce myself."

I nod, taking her hand, my own hand twitching a bit.

"You okay?"

"He's going to see right through us."

"Don't be nervous." She squeezes my hand, whispering into my ear. "There's nothing fake about our friendship."

She has no idea how wrong she is. Our friendship is fake if what I want is more.

Our kiss in the library knocked some sense into me. The lines of our friendship started blurring the moment I saw how she bounced back from Emma's hair assault, and how much she loved horror films. All week I've held back from telling her how wonderful she is. So wonderful that she deserves a guy who doesn't treat life like a giant game. Someone who will make something of himself.

We walk together down the bleachers, and I do everything I can to maintain my energetic step. This is becoming dangerously real for me, and I need to end it before I mess up and hurt her.

I'm well aware that history always repeats itself.
Chapter Thirteen

Edelweiss

"Dad, this is Edelweiss."

"Colonel Parson, it's a pleasure to finally meet you." I extend a firm shake, nailing the diplomatic greeting that Mom and Dad drilled into me as a young child.

"Please, call me Peter." With a gentle squeeze, he releases my hand. "You look so much like your mother."

"But with my father's hair. Sort of like how you and James share a smile."

"You noticed?" James chuckles, tucking his helmet under his arm. "Most people think I'm adopted."

I glance between the two of them, both of their smiles are partially open, almost like they're in mid-laugh. It's contagious and identical. "You're obviously his son."

Colonel Parson playfully nudges James. "He gets his good looks from me."

The buzzer sounds the end of halftime. James's brow creases as he studies us.

"Go play. I'll be fine."

"I'll meet you after the game?"

"How about I take you both out to dinner?" Colonel Parson asks.

"Awesome." James gives me a hug.

"Edelweiss, will you sit with me? I'd love to hear more about your parents, and the headmistress promised to save me a few good seats. She claims they're the best view in the stadium."

"That'd be great. Thank you." I follow him over to Headmistress Creighton, who awkwardly shakes the colonel's hand with a weird eye roll like they're old friends. Man, James must have done some wild stuff if they know each other this well.

Colonel Parson and I take our seats just off the sidelines. He clears his throat. "Your father and mother are some of the greatest people I've had the pleasure to know. It's been years since I've bumped into them. A shame, really. Thank God for technology. You wouldn't remember me, but we met a few times when you were a baby and again as a preschooler."

"Really?" It's odd that I don't feel nervous around him or a desperate need to impress. I guess it's a lot easier to meet a boyfriend's parent when you're a placeholder than if you're the real deal. "Have James and I met before?"

"No. When I was at work, he was usually with his nanny. But you both lived in Germany at the same time when you were infants."

"Weird."

"What's weird is that you two are dating." He shakes his head. "It never occurred to me that you two would hit it off. He doesn't strike me as your type, if you're anything like your folks."

A sour taste floods my mouth. He really has no idea how great James is. "James is really smart. He's been tutoring me in English."

"Tutoring?" His brow lifts and I can see the implication in his eyes.

"He's been helping me dissect Dostoyevsky in the library."

"Yeah, he likes to toy with that stuff."

Toy? Understanding Dostoyevsky takes some major brainpower. "Have you ever read Dostoyevsky?"

His eyes pop wide while the whistle blows. "No. God, I can't even remember the last time I read a book for fun."

"Well, I wouldn't exactly call his novels fun, but they are interesting. Maybe you should read one? James can talk for hours about them."

"For hours. Really? Are we talking about the same kid here?"

"James is really insightful, you must know that. I remember my parents once turning off the TV to tell me he'd gotten published in a magazine." I force out a chuckle, desperately trying to stand up for James while keeping the conversation light and airy. "They interrupted the series finale of Parenthood to tell me. I was so mad."

"Having something published isn't uncommon for Brockmore students. Now, don't get me wrong. Obviously, I'm proud of my son if I felt the need to email your parents and brag about him. I just really want him to put those brains to use the rest of the time."

"He is. You should see what he's doing with student council."

"Student council? Come on. Now I know we aren't talking about the same kid."

The headmistress leans over to us. "James is one of the senior reps this year. I thought he told you. He's brought some unique proposals before the council. I've been really impressed with his interest and commitment."

"You don't say."

"I do." She settles back into her seat. We sit in silence for a few minutes, and my stomach turns over. He hates me.

Another five minutes pass before he shifts in his spot. "Edelweiss, thank you."

"For what, sir?"

The quarterback launches the ball, and James's father leaps to his feet the moment James spins out of the defender's way. He cheers louder than anyone in the stadium when James catches it, sprinting down the sideline and diving into the end zone.

Touchdown, Bears!

The colonel grins at me while he takes his seat.

"Is everything okay, sir?"

"Couldn't be better. Thank you for telling me about James. Sounds like he's really trying to change things."

The headmistress coughs loudly next to him. "As I was telling you, Peter..."

"I hear you, headmistress. Thank you."

The Bears win, and while James showers, the colonel has me call my parents so we can all talk on speaker. The giddiness in my mom's voice is undeniable, and as the Colonel describes my relationship with James, I swear my dad's voice drops an octave, his irritation clear.

It's apparently easy to say you want your daughter to date but a lot harder to stomach.

After James arrives, he holds open the back door to his father's SUV while I climb in. On the drive into town, James and his father recount the last half of the game play by play, and James has never seemed so relaxed and at ease as he is with him. At the bar and grill, James inhales his dinner, and when he runs to the restroom, the colonel folds his hands on the table.

"You seem like an honest young lady."

"I try to be."

"Tell me more about James. Does it bother him that I'm not around much?"

"Oh, wow." I push the salt shaker to the side. This just got weird.

"I'm sorry to intrude, but I need to know if I've messed up."

"James speaks about you a lot and admires you greatly, especially your military service."

"But does he miss me?"

"Nothing replaces family."

"Right." He rubs his jaw. "Parenting is the hardest thing I've ever done, Edelweiss. And to raise a teenager alone, while in the military, requires more sacrifices than any child should have to give. I don't want him to resent me."

"James wants to make you proud."

"That's what scares me. He should already know I'm proud of him."

"What are you two talking about?" James grins while he walks down the aisle toward our booth.

The colonel presses back from the table. "Her father makes a mean burger."

I nod in agreement, clicking my thumb joint.

James slides in next to me and eyes my thumb popping with a smile. He folds my hand into his own, and the urge to pop the joint diminishes. "But I thought your father was vegan?"

The colonel laughs. "That's exactly what makes it so mean."

When we arrive back at Brockmore, the colonel invites me out to breakfast with them the next morning. "I'm going to have to pass. I have a group project meeting in the morning," I explain.

In all honesty, I want them to have some time alone. They need it.

"Are you sure you want to skip out on breakfast tomorrow?" James asks after we climb out of the SUV and cross the road to the front of Brockmore Hall.

"I'm sure. It breaks our rules."

"Right. One meal a day."

"Better not to mess with what's working." I shift on the front steps, well aware that James plans to go back to spend the weekend with his father at the hotel. Suddenly it's like I'm being dropped off from a date, with one of our fathers watching.

"He's probably expecting me to kiss you." James shifts in place. "A kiss on the cheek will probably do fine."

My heart tickles at the thought. Maybe it's the sugar from the malt or the fact that I can barely look at James without wishing I actually interested him, but something in me snaps. "Better make it a real one. If we want to sell this relationship to him, this is our last chance."

"Right." James steps forward and gently tucks a loose strand of my hair behind my ear. "Thank you for this, Edelweiss." He leans in, and the kiss is soft and sweet, but within my chest fireworks are exploding.

"You okay?" he asks after he pulls away, noticing how I stumbled backward a step.

"Yeah." A lump the size of a golf ball takes up residence in my throat. "I'm fine. Enjoy your night with your dad."

"I'll see you Monday morning?"

"There's no chance I'll be anywhere but here."

He grins, leaning in and planting a kiss on my cheek before he bounds across the street to climb back into the black SUV. Everything in me trembles as I walk up the stairs into Brockmore Hall. All I want is another kiss, and knowing he won't be sleeping under the same roof as me tonight makes me ache.

Oh my God. What have I done to myself?

I like James Parson. Every cell in my body electrifies when he's near, and—both fortunately and unfortunately—he's near me a lot.

Later that night, my phone vibrates. Tuti tosses it to me while she rehearses for her newest makeup YouTube tutorial.

We pulled it off! James texts. He thinks you're great and wants me to stay at Brockmore!

Great news! I text back.

Can I call you? He's out of the room right now.

Sure. I'll call you once I'm in the clear.

"How long will you be gone?" Tuti asks while I open the door.

"I don't know?"

"Could you wait at least twenty minutes so I can get this filmed?"

"Easily."

"Do you mind if I show your side of the room?" She glances at the pile of outfits she's tossed on her bed. "It'll take me forever to clean this up and yours looks so fresh and cute. Perfect for YouTube."

"Have at it. Text me when I can return."

I wind my way through the dormitory, moving away from Emma's cracked open door in case she decides to breathe fire, to an empty study room on the first floor.

James answers on the first ring. "Hello?"

"Hi. It's Edelweiss." There's an awkward beat, and I can't help but laugh.

"What?" he asks.

"I've never talked to a boy on the phone before." Something else to check off my list.

"Really?" He laughs. "Is it okay if I say that's adorable?"

"You can say it if you want to, but that doesn't make it true." More like pathetic. I take a seat at the desk and tug on my hair. "So, what's up?"

"Well, I was thinking that, since we sold my dad on us, we should set a date so I can cut you free."

"Oh." The surprise in my voice cuts through the air.

"Not that this isn't fun..."

"No, of course." I dig my fingernail into the desk "Don't worry. Yeah, that's a good idea."

"Nothing soon, of course. That'd be too suspicious."

"Well, I'm open to any timeline." Like one with no end date.

"How about in a couple of weeks? Maybe after the Ghoul Ball so we don't have to try to figure out someone else to go with."

I press my head against the wall and take a deep breath. All along I've known this was coming. I shouldn't make it harder than it needs to be. "James, if you have someone else you'd want to bring as a date, we can break up sooner. I'd understand."

"Nope. I'd be a horrible date that night anyway, because I'll be too focused on pulling off the senior prank."

"I thought you were done with pranks."

"Oh, don't worry. This one has Creighton's stamp of approval. She just doesn't know what she signed off on yet."

"What is it?"

"I can't say. You're a junior. I'm sworn to secrecy."

"Right." Every sentence I hear from him seems to feel like he's pushing me away. The longer we draw this out, the more it's going to hurt. "So how about after the dance? If you plan to not pay attention to me, maybe that can trigger it?"

"Brilliant. We'll have a little fight, and I promise I'll make you look good. Edelweiss, you were brilliant tonight with my dad. Thank you."

"No problem." He may be able to make me look good, but walking away from James is going to hurt more than he'll ever know. And I'll never let him know, because that wasn't part of the deal.

"I'll see you Monday, then? Dad just walked in the room."

"No problem. Go enjoy your time together."

"I'll see you Monday morning." He hangs up before I can say good night. My throat feels raw. Relax. This is part of the plan.

A second later my phone chimes with a text from Mom. Peter just texted your father. Sounds like you and James are really hitting things off. So happy you are really living life baby!

A sinking feeling presses into my chest as I read the text. I hate lying to her, and obviously she's thrilled about us.

James is right. A breakup date is a good thing, a nice little reminder that I need to keep myself in check, because the longer I'm close to him, the more I believe the way he looks at me is real.
Chapter Fourteen

James

Being away from Edelweiss for an entire weekend was torture, especially knowing I've set the day of our demise. I missed the smell of her shampoo and how her hand feels so right in my own.

When the bell rings, I leap up and almost trip over my chair as I make for the door. The brisk air cuts into my cheek while I skip the sidewalks and dart across the lawn to the math building.

I see Edel's signature light-blond hair before she sees me. Perfect. I step to the side of the hallway, wedging myself behind the girls' gymnastics trophy case, and wait for her to pass. When she does, I reach out and grab her at the waist, spinning her around.

"James." She giggles, pressing her hand to my chest. A group of students pause their conversation, watching us.

I scoop her close, and with my wink, she catches on. Her hand slides up my shoulder, and I can't help but let my lips brush against hers. "Long time, no see," I say. "I missed you."

"I can see that." She laughs, cocking her head to the side once people have moved on.

"In my defense, people would expect a kiss after we weren't together for an entire weekend," I whisper.

"I doubt they even noticed we weren't together."

I scrunch up my nose, remembering Proctor's text from Saturday night. "Did Proctor sit next to you at dinner on Saturday?"

She nods. "With Tuti and Jordan, too. Oh, and Gavin. He showed up halfway through."

Because I texted him to move in after Proctor texted me bragging about hitting on "my chick."

"Trust me," I chuckle and take her hand in mine. There, now this feels right. "They noticed."

We wander through the hallway and out the door to the quad. A twenty-minute break between classes is not enough time to soak up the amount of Edelweiss I missed over the weekend.

"How are you?" I ask her once we're outside and out of earshot.

She zips up her coat. "Good. You?"

I glance at the sophomore girls gathered at the bottom of the stairs. Once I let Edelweiss go, my entire year will be spent avoiding girls like them. "I'm good."

She glances at the girls as well. "So how do we do this?"

"Do what?"

"Show the school we're not a perfect couple anymore? We need to start distancing ourselves from each other if we're breaking up on Halloween. It's only a week and a half away. The way you just kissed me feels too much like a fairy tale."

"Are you saying you want me to stand you up?"

"I don't know. Maybe miss a few dinners? I could be a no-show at your game next week?"

The thought of not having her in the stands makes me shake my head before I can even think. I'm not as stressed out on the field with her up there. Her presence is a gentle reminder that there is more to life than football. Plus, it's funny that she has no idea what I'm doing out there but claps anyways.

"No way. I need you there."

"Why?"

"There's something about you that makes me want to do my best, Edelweiss." She opens her mouth, but before she can ask why, I interrupt her. "Let's not mess with the game. I don't want to let the team down."

"Deal. How about you forget to eat dinner with me tonight?"

"And leave you sitting alone at our table?" I shake my head. "Not cool."

She laughs. "James, once we break up, I imagine I'll be eating dinner alone a lot."

"It seems too brutal. How about we start smaller than me skipping out on dinner?" There's something nice about sharing a meal with her, and there's no way I'm letting that go when we have so few left.

"Like what?" Her phone vibrates, and as she answers the text, I can't help but catch her grin.

"Who's that?"

"Thomas, from history. He has to write a report on the Berlin Wall, and he keeps picking my brain about it because I've been there a few times."

Knowing another guy is texting her feels like someone taking sandpaper to my skin. I take a step closer, hovering too close. Chill out, man. Even if she was your real girlfriend, it doesn't mean you own her.

"You okay?" she asks as the five-minute warning bell chimes.

"Perfectly fine." I nod to her phone, then give her the space she deserves. "Feel free to answer as we walk to class. Maybe that can be our small thing?"

"Not paying attention to each other while we're together?" She scrunches up her nose.

"Well." I pull out my phone while we walk across campus and shoot her a text.

Looking disinterested doesn't mean we can't talk.

She laughs. Now this I can handle, she texts back.

Want to have lunch on the front steps?

The skin near her eyes crinkles as she grins, and those solid blue eyes shine. That goes against our rules.

It'll be worth it. Trust me.
Chapter Fifteen

Edelweiss

His shoulder brushes up against mine on our way down the hall while I balance my lunch tray.

"I've never seen my dad so at ease with any of my friends before. He's usually uptight and pissy after hanging out with them. Especially Proctor. God, he hates him." James leans against the large oak doors while I pass through.

"You introduced him to Proctor?"

James takes a seat on the top step. "Made that error a few years ago, and ever since he's never exactly liked my choice of friends at Brockmore. But he wouldn't stop talking about you this weekend. I think he'll genuinely be upset when we break up."

But it's all an illusion. At least that's what I keep telling myself even though everything about James's kiss this morning in the hallway felt right. It felt real. It'd be foolish of me to act on it, though, not when we built the illusion together. If James felt the same way, he'd never be asking to break up so soon.

I tug at my navy-blue skirt while I take a seat next to him, trying to ignore the nagging sadness I've felt all weekend. Moments like these will be over soon. Exes don't hang out and share lunch on the front steps. We'll barely be together once everything plays out. But maybe he wants it that way? After seeing how he looked at those other girls across the quad, I won't dare tell him how I really feel. He's probably already moved on.

"My dad told me you two spoke about meeting in Germany. You must have really connected with him. He never speaks about his time in Germany. He voluntarily went to the U.S. base there when I was one. Took me along with a twenty-four-hour au pair."

"Why did he go?"

"He was running away from reality. Mom's death ruined him, and from what I've gathered, he made a lot of mistakes. A lot of drunk nights with a lot of women. It's probably why it's so important to him that I keep a steady girlfriend. He doesn't want me to end up like him."

The door behind us creaks open, and when I glance back, Ainsley's standing there with her lunch tray. "You made it," he says. "Edelweiss, I'd like you to meet my sister."

Sister? A french fry falls from my mouth onto the concrete steps.

"Half sister," she corrects with a grin, taking a seat next to me. "Edelweiss, this is my deepest secret. You have to promise not to tell anyone, especially the colonel."

"Ainsley, you can call him your father, too. It doesn't bother me." James bites a baby carrot.

"He doesn't even know I exist."

"That's your own doing. I was ready to tell him the moment the DNA tests came back positive."

"I'm not ready to meet him yet." Ainsley pulls out her blue e-cig pen.

James reaches out and takes it from her before she can pull in a vape. "Do you honestly think I'm going to let you smoke around me?"

She rolls her eyes, snatching it back and letting it rest between her lips. "Hush. It's turned off. I like how it feels, that's all."

"How long have you guys known?" I ask once they've settled down.

"The summer after my freshman year we figured it out. James saw my potential in coding and recruited me to help with some of his pranks."

"She's the most brilliant hacker, Edel. She makes accessing the school's systems a piece of cake."

No wonder Ainsley was on her phone during the welcome banquet. She was the one controlling the TV screens!

Ainsley tucks her short, dark hair behind her ears. "Anyway, James was relentless about asking me about my life."

"Hardest thing I ever accomplished. You were like a locked vault."

"You would be too if you had my life, James Matthew." Her words are gentle, but there's an undertone that weighs heavily. Ainsley hides so much, and now I understand why. "Anyway, it turns out my mom lived near Fort Story in Virginia at the same time as Colonel Parson and James."

"My mother had already passed away," James adds. "My father did not cheat on my mom."

Ainsley nods. "When I was twelve, I found pictures of my mom. She was at her best friend's bachelorette party about ten months before I was born. There was one photo of her and a soldier. I knew the moment I saw his smile and his gray eyes that he was my father."

"It took a week to convince her to show me the photo," James adds. "Of course, once I saw the photo, I knew we needed real proof, so we sent in some DNA swabs." He sighs. "And now I know why everyone complains about their younger sister." James cracks a smile and leans back on the steps. "I sort of miss being an only child."

Ainsley picks up a pebble, tossing it at James's shoulder.

"Does Charlotte or Tuti know?"

"Nope. You're the first."

"Why me?"

Ainsley looks at James. "I've never seen him so happy before. You're good for him, and I like you. If James trusts you, then I can, too. Plus, having someone to talk to about this would be helpful. Charlotte always tells me I'm too closed off."

James nods. "An accurate assessment."

"If I told Charlotte, she'd find the colonel's phone number and tell him herself. She's a little too bold to trust with this secret, but you seem like a friend who would understand and be patient and stuff."

Her thoughtfulness, her naïveté, crushes my chest. Until now, I didn't feel like our fake relationship could hurt anyone but us, but now Ainsley's revealed her deepest secret because she thinks I'm her brother's girlfriend.

And he let her. Why?

"I've got to run back inside." Ainsley squeezes my hand. "Maybe you can tell me about the colonel later?"

"Absolutely," I say.

She shoves James's shoulder like only a sister can get away with and bounds back up the steps.

"Wow." I grab the edge of the steps. "Do any of your friends know?"

"A few know I have a sister, but no one has any idea she goes to this school, let alone is quiet little Ainsley."

"Thanks for sharing with me. I'm lucky to have both of you."

He stands up, offering his hand to help me off the step before we run off to our next class. "Dinner tonight?" When our skin touches, the warmth of his palm makes my soul sigh so deeply that I force myself to pull away.

None of this is good for me.

"You okay?" He holds open the door.

"Yup. Just realized that, since we had an extra meal together, we should probably not hold hands. Maybe we should walk back to class separately to keep things balanced?" I need more than a moment to get my head on straight. Ainsley is trusting me with her biggest secret, and all this time I've been lying to her face, about her own brother.

"Sure. I'll see you at dinner, then?"

"Actually, I wanted to talk to you about that." I may lose both of them with this break up. "Thomas has been texting me all day about the Berlin Wall. It'll be much easier to just sit down with him to explain what I know."

James grasps the doorframe. "See you later then?"

"Yup."

I drop my head to text, but really, I'm watching James float through the crowded hallway. People call out his name, and his smile triples when he walks onto the quad with the football team. His step has more energy than I've seen in a long time, and the farther he gets away from me the more magnetic he becomes.

No wonder he wants to break up with me. It wouldn't be fair to tie someone like James down.
Chapter Sixteen

James

"High knees, high knees!" Coach bellows from the sidelines.

My quads burn like a Roman candle and—God—it feels amazing to torch out all my excess energy. Being around Edelweiss ignites me, and I'm finding that the less we talk and the less we hold hands, the more edgy I've become. Not being able to sit down with her for dinner last night sucked.

She is everything I didn't know I wanted from a girl. All week I've walked her to class and dropped her off with not even a kiss on the cheek, terrified she'd realize I'm teetering, about to fall head first into her world with my heart in my hands, begging her to take it. Our rules keep me in check—though, I have to admit I've dodged the getting-caught-making-out rule completely. The temptation would be too much, and I know I'd end up letting my lips find hers if we ducked into a dark corner together.

Which is exactly why I can't tell her how I feel. I don't even know how to be a boyfriend. The rules are the only reason we look like we're a real couple. Without them I'd be messing up in every way possible, and I can't bear the thought of hurting her.

"Parson! Backpedal, backpedal!"

Right, practice. I propel backward. The younger receivers already have a twenty-yard jump. When I hit the fifty-yard line, I sprint back to keep pace with them. Then, we repeat the cycle.

Edelweiss deserves better than me. Maybe I should introduce her to Gavin. He'd be able to write songs for her.

"Parson!" yells Coach Davvy. "Get off the field. Didn't you hear me? Practice is over."

My head snaps up, and the entire team is staring at me while I'm still driving up high knees. "Sorry about that. Just really wanted to push myself." The clock on the scoreboard shows that practice ended two minutes ago.

"Admirable that you push yourself, but I expect you to stop when you hear my whistle."

"I understand, sir."

I follow the team back into the locker room. The buzz from the conversations and the fluorescent lights makes the hair on my neck stand on end.

Mason nudges me. "Bet I know what you're thinking about."

Proctor pulls off his shoulder pads. "Come on, you've got to let us in on the plan." He reaches into his locker and grabs a toothpick to place between his teeth. He's been doing it since the beginning of junior year because a cheerleader at an away game told him he looks cool. For the record, he doesn't.

"What plan?"

"For the senior prank." He hits the back of my head. "Thought you'd have the details ironed out by now. Last week the only info you had was that we'd be pulling it off during the Ghoul Ball."

"Right." Talking about the prank is doable, since it really isn't much of a prank at all. Dad would be livid if I pulled a prank that breaks rules, but, since Creighton approved guest vouchers, now I can finally share my epic plan. And the best part? Just because we aren't breaking rules doesn't mean they know that. For all they know, this will be the most outrageous moment in Brockmore's history.

"We've got to do something memorable. What if we egg Creighton's office?" Pickles pounds his fist on the seat, and Proctor agrees.

"What if we change her computer to autocorrect the word 'thank' to 'fuck' so all of her emails to parents would end with 'fuck you'?" Proctor says.

Mason groans. "No. We need better than that. A freshman could think up something like that."

"Agreed." Nothing will happen to Julie on my watch. Last year the senior guys parked Julie's car in a blown-up swimming pool filled with bubbles. Because the bozos stole it in the middle of the night and let it sit in water, it had to be towed away for repairs. "Let's think bigger than Creighton this year. This is our opportunity to shape the legend of Brockmore Academy." Excitement racks down my spine. "That's why I want to stage a zombie attack at the Halloween party."

"That seems a bit childish, doesn't it?"

"Not if we aren't the zombies. We'll dress up in regular costumes—ghosts, Captain America, whatever you want—but we'll all be 'killed' in a zombie attack that the school won't see coming. It will be legendary."

"I like this," Pickles says. "But how?"

"I've already contacted the captain of Dayton's football team. They'll dress up as zombies and raid the school. We'll have them target the senior guys, pretending to bite us and eat our brains. We'll have a fake scrimmage on their field where we can practice everything. It's already scheduled for Saturday morning."

Proctor grins. "Think of the fake blood capsules. Oh! Mason, you could make that Jell-O-applesauce concoction that your mom makes for Thanksgiving, and we could all have packets to squeeze to make it look like our brains are spilling out onto the dance floor!"

"I like your thinking, Proctor. Tonight, let's round up all the senior guys to finalize it."

"I'm in, too." Mason pulls off his workout shorts and boxers, hanging in all his questionable glory.

I toss him my towel to cover up. "So let's meet tonight at 9:30?"

"Where are you going?" Proctor asks.

"Dinner."

"Can't you go later? We could start hammering out some details now."

"Nope." Any other girl would be easy to ditch with an excuse, but with only five days left, I don't want to waste a moment together.

Mason shakes his head. "I never thought I'd see the day when a girl had whipped James Parson."

"Whipped." That word always makes me cringe. I never wanted to be that guy. I was always adamant that guys with long-term girlfriends give up too much freedom.

I can't help but laugh at myself while I walk by Mason, giving him a sharp bop on his head. I was such a fool before Edelweiss stepped into my life, thinking guys were weak for being considerate of their girlfriends. Edelweiss is inescapable, and I like it that way. Thoughts of her swirl through my brain 99 percent of my day, allowing a measly one percent for school and football. "Have fun eating your burrito with your Xbox tonight."

Proctor laughs at Mason. "Get it? Because you're single?"

Just like I will be soon.
Chapter Seventeen

Edelweiss

One sip of coffee and I know I've made the wrong choice. I push it aside and clutch the cool glass of water, my stomach churning like I'm at sea.

Today, we end. Looks like I'll be able to scratch break up with someone off my stupid list. Why on earth did I think making a list to guide my life experiences at Brockmore would be a good thing? Sure, it felt nice to scratch through the little things, but the big stuff like this bites. I never knew all this would hurt so much.

I glance across the room to James, who's still piling doughnuts on his plate at the buffet, and my rib cage feels like it's going to shatter. Everything about my life at Brockmore is about to change. Nothing will feel the same without hanging out with him every day.

Today we bend the rules to implement phase one of our breakup, which is to have a silent breakfast with each other and make it look like something's off between us.

At least I won't have to pretend to smile about all this.

"Saved you a seat." I nudge out his chair with my toe for him.

"Thanks." He glances down at my full bowl of oatmeal. "Not hungry?"

The moment I swallow one lump, another one moves in. I take a quick sip from my water before I even try to speak. "Not feeling so great, to be honest."

He doesn't need to know that I've been nauseous since last night at the thought of never holding his hand again or being able to study his dimple.

"Do you want me to walk you to the nurse?"

"No, I'll be fine. Just feeling a bit queasy."

"Nervous?"

"Maybe."

"Don't be." He chomps into his doughnut. "We'll be arguing out on the patio tonight. No one will hear a word we say. As long as we toss our arms about and you give me a good shove and stomp away, people will figure out we're over."

I scrunch up my nose. "Shoving you doesn't feel right."

"What?" He puffs out his chest with a grin. "Don't think I can handle it?"

"James." I drop my voice. "This is supposed to be a sullen breakfast, right?"

"Oh, right." He drops his eyes, and for a few minutes we sit in silence while he eats and I poke at my oatmeal.

"How will I know it's time?" I ask. "You still haven't told me anything about the prank."

"I'll come find you. You just have fun with Tuti, Ainsley, and Charlotte. But, listen, when you hear the music shift into that windy theme song from that God-awful movie..."

"Let Me Go?"

"Don't say it." He shivers in his seat. "Just, when you hear the song, get off the dance floor and away from the windows. Better yet, go hide behind the student council booth."

"What exactly are you planning to do?"

He shrugs, standing up with his empty tray. "Probably best not to walk you to class this morning."

"Agreed." My stomach feels rancid. A visit to the nurse's office might not be that bad of an idea. "And you won't be around for dinner?"

"No. I'll be with Proctor and Gavin getting things organized."

"So, I'll see you at the Ghoul Ball?" I tuck both sides of my chopped hair behind my ears.

"I'll meet you on the dance floor."

Twenty minutes later, I'm hugging a bowl in the nurse's office with a cool cloth pressed to my forehead, struggling to keep the pressure in my stomach at bay. She's reminded me eight times since I walked through the door that if I vomit or have a fever, I'm not allowed to go to the dance tonight.

And that's not happening. If I have to check break up off my list than at least I'm going to enjoy checking off go to a costume party. Plus, James wants out, and I won't let him down. Even if it breaks my heart.

With a little ginger and acupressure on the wrist, I finally get relief. The nurse, a plump woman with the smile of an ex-smoker, places a blanket over me and flicks off the lights.

Finally, sleep.

"Edelweiss, you have a visitor." Her voice drifts into my dreams, calling me back from a pointless wandering of campus in my robe, barefoot in the snow. The curtain around my bed crinkles as she tugs it open an inch. "Do you want him to come in?"

I rub my eyes, gazing at the clock. Four p.m.? Whoa. I slept the entire day. "I'm feeling better, thank you. If it's okay, I'd like to head back to the dorms."

She nods, scooping up my blanket for me and handing me her card. "If you get sick in the middle of the night, give me a call. I don't like how pale you're looking."

"I will."

James sits in the chair on the other side of the nurse's suite. My eyes sting. Ugh. He jumps up. "You okay?"

"Yeah." I tug my navy cardigan back on around my blouse. "I feel off."

He runs his hands down my arms, leaving a trail of delicious warmth. "Maybe we should postpone this?"

"No." Dragging this out one more day will only make it worse, and I've always been a "rip it off like a Band-Aid" girl. "You've planned everything perfectly. Let's do it tonight."

"Are you sure?" He steps closer, bumping his head against my forehead a bit. He hasn't been this close since he kissed me on the front steps of Brockmore almost two weeks ago. My heartbeat pumps in my ears, and everything in me screams to rise up on my tiptoes and press my lips to his.

Edelweiss, he does not want you. He's your boy friend, not your boyfriend.

I take a step out of his arms and open the door for myself. "I'm positive."

"Let me walk you to the dorms."

"Why?"

He gulps, stepping forward and linking his fingers through mine. "Because this is the last time I can, and I want to."

He can't have any idea how much I'll miss this. To him I'm a distant friend's daughter he promised to look out for, or else. To me? He's what makes the cold walls of Brockmore warm.

We both walk slowly through the atrium, where some students are waiting for the school's vans to take a last-minute trip into town to costume hunt. When he drops me off at the dormitory he leans in, kissing me softly on the cheek. "Text me if you're too sick. We can always reschedule."

"I'll be fine. You go focus on pulling off that prank. Just..." I sigh. "Don't get caught, okay? I like having you around."

"No need to worry, Edelweiss. There's no way I can get in trouble for what's about to happen tonight. Trust me." He winks as he walks away.

As he does, the lounge door flies open, and Emma pounces out with her friends and a high-pitched giggle. She glances at both of us and an odd, almost calm expression graces her perfect face. "Ready for tonight?" she asks.

Neither of us responds, mostly because she doesn't give us a chance too. Instead she bounds past us with her gaggle of friends, escaping down the grand stairway.

Once inside my dormitory, familiar giggles echo down the hall. I lean up against my open bedroom door, and I can't help but laugh with my friends. Charlotte jumps from bed to bed wearing fairy wings and holding a wand.

"There's our Tinkerbell!" Tuti pulls me into the room. "We picked up our costumes this afternoon."

"I thought we were going to be ghosts."

"Fresh out of ghost costumes, but..." Charlotte picks up a plastic bag and tosses me a skimpy looking Tinkerbell outfit. "These are more fun."

"Who are you?"

"Tinkerbell's friend Rosetta, of course." She laughs, tugging out a small red dress from some plastic wrap.

"I'm Silvermist." Tuti puts on a pair of shimmering blue wings. "I've got the perfect glitter eyeshadow for this."

"Ainsley's on board with this?"

"I didn't give her a choice. She makes the perfect Vidia."

"Because I'm pissed off?" Ainsley walks out of our closet, wearing a tight little maroon number that shows off her killer legs.

"Will these even work with the dress code?" I tug out the green little dress. There's no way this won't show my butt when I bend over.

"Don't wig out. The fabric stretches a lot and there's a built-in leotard." Tuti yanks off her blouse and slips out of her skirt, then shimmies into her blue fairy dress.

"Plus, we got this in case they decide to call us on the length of the dress." Charlotte pulls out a translucent, shimmering cloth and pins it around her waist as a skirt overlay. "Technically, we aren't breaking any rules. This is longer than my uniform."

Ainsley spins in the mirror. "Thank God it'll be dark in the banquet hall."

Tuti pushes out her desk chair. "Hush, Ainsley. You know you look hot, now come over here so I can do your makeup."

"And Edelweiss, wiggle your butt into that costume so we know it can cover your ass." Charlotte nods to another bag on my bed. "We bought a size up, just in case."

"Charlotte!" Ainsley scolds.

"What? I'd kill for a butt like that!"
Chapter Eighteen

James

The DJ's purple lights reflect off the spiderweb-coated diamonds of the chandelier. Fog swirls up to my knees from the dance floor, the chalk scent clouding my nostrils. The dance floor is packed, and for perhaps the first time in Brockmore history, I swear it's flooded with more guys than girls—the result of both the fog hiding their steps and the anticipation of the upcoming zombie attack.

Pretty sure we bought every fake blood capsule within a five-mile radius, not to mention what we ordered from Amazon.

The DJ switches the mix, upping the bass so the deep vibrations rattle my rib cage. The beat is intoxicating, people toss up their hands and get low.

My eyes keep wandering over to the door of the banquet hall, my chest expanding every time it opens in hopes she'll walk through. Maybe she's too sick to come down. I whip out my iPhone and send her a quick text. How are you feeling? I bet I could convince one of the servers to bring up some of the leftover chicken noodle soup they had at lunch.

"Jamie. How nice to see you alone for once."

Her voice makes me flinch. "Emma." I turn around.

She's wearing a pink leotard with a barely-there tutu. Do not look down and check her out. That's all she wants.

"Great party. I heard you're behind all this?" she says.

"Just the idea. The rest of the council took it and ran with it. I was so busy with football." When she steps in a little closer, purposely giving me an angle to look down past her throat at her chest, I glance up at the weird gauze they used to decorate the DJ booth, not giving her the satisfaction. "I had nothing to do with any of this."

The music shifts into a slow song. Oh no. There's no way I'm getting stuck with this one.

My arms immediately cross, and I jump back. Where is Edel? God, she must be really sick to be this late.

Emma sighs. "James..." She reaches up and wraps her arms around my neck, starting to sway with the beat. "Dance with me—as friends of course."

"It's not a good idea, Emma." I pull her hands off the back of my neck.

"Are you serious?" She laughs. "Come on, Jamie. Tear away what we did behind closed doors, and we were nothing more than friends. Why does the last part have to change?"

"Maybe because you chopped my girlfriend's hair off."

Those mascara-thick eyelashes bat wildly. "A little jealous moment, I admit it. But can you blame me?" Her hand floats to my bicep and squeezes it as she stumbles into my arms. "I've missed you." There's a scent of vodka on her lips. Of course she'd sneak in booze.

I spin her around. "Emma, look at all those guys out there. Any of them would kill to dance with you."

"But I only want you." Her giggle bubbles.

"Listen. You don't need any of them, and you don't need me." I catch sight of one of her groupies, another junior who is so quiet I don't even know her name. I flag her down, and she's at Emma's elbow within a moment. "Make sure she has some water, okay?"

"See. You do care." Emma partially floats and stumbles her way across the dance floor in her friend's arms.

It's true. Seeing her drunk makes me feel sorry for her.

There's a tap on my back, and it takes all my strength not to groan, knowing another girl will be taking Emma's place behind me. This is what life will be like all the time by tomorrow morning. I can't believe this was the life I used to want.

She taps again. With a tolerant smile, I spin around.

Edelweiss grins in a tight green costume and a pair of sparkling wings. "I'm a fairy."

"Tinkerbell. I get it." My throat tightens. Seriously. Is she trying to kill me?

She tugs at the dress that hugs her hips in a way that makes my knees weak. "I wanted to be a ghost, but Charlotte said the costumes were gone. The other girls are fairies, too." She glances back toward one of the high-top tables, and when I see Ainsley in a little dark-purple number that shows a lot of thigh, I can't help but cringe.

She should not be allowed to wear that here.

"So, Emma, huh?"

Who's Emma?

Edelweiss's jaw clicks. "I see."

Oh. Emma!

"No, no, no. She's drunk. Confused. I didn't want to dance with her."

She cracks a smile and whispers. "It's okay, James. Our agreement never stipulated you couldn't date Emma after we were through. Granted, I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I didn't at least say that I think you deserve someone better."

"Like you?" The words are out of my mouth before I even know what I've said. Shit.

Her eyes drop to the floor. "No, that's not what I'm saying. I mean a girl who wants to lift you up, not drag you down."

Drag me down. Like I'm doing to Edel.

When she glances up, the lights bounce off her sapphire eyes. I lift her chin with a finger to make sure I get a good look. "Dance with me."

"Are you sure? Won't that seem weird if we're supposed to break up in an hour?"

There's no way I'm passing up the chance to dance with Edelweiss tonight. "Well, it'll look odd if we don't at least try to dance together. Don't you think?"

"Okay."

The music transitions into another slow groove, and I tuck Edelweiss into my arms, letting my hands rest on the curve of her hips while we sway. Having her so near feels better than any touchdown.

"James?" she whispers, pressing her hand lightly to my chest. "Do you think..."

"What?" My hand wanders to the small of her back, scooping her closer.

"Never mind."

"Please don't say that." I stop dancing, gazing down at the perfect little fairy in my arms. A fairy is fitting for this girl. Feisty and precious. Courageous and delicate. Edelweiss in a nutshell. "What do you want to know?"

Suddenly, the white twinkle lights flick off, along with the DJ's purple overhead lights. No! Not now. A thunderous boom that makes my ears pop blares from the speakers, and Edelweiss jumps into my arms. "What's happening?" The windy theme music fades in, making the hair on my arms stand up.

I spin her around and point her toward the concession tables. "Get behind one of those tables, right now." She looks back at me, and those eyes are blazing wide. Worried. "It's okay," I whisper, accidently—okay, purposely—letting my lip graze her ear. "This is the prank. Just take cover, and you'll be all right."

There's a high-pitch screech that halts everyone shifting on the dance floor. Two beats later, as rehearsed, hands start smacking against the windows from the outdoors. Proctor prances forward, his smile so big you'd think it was his first Christmas.

The side door opens and one by one, zombies straggle in. Edelweiss isn't moving, so I take her hand in mine and tug her across the dance floor. I grab Ainsley as well and hand them both off to Gavin, who's behind the concession table. "Do not let any of those zombies near them."

"No sweat, man."

I join most of the senior guys out on the dance floor. Girls shriek while the zombies wander in, reaching out but not touching anyone who isn't a senior guy. The choreography of each death scene is perfect, each one happening one after another. People slide on fake blood as they bolt from the dance floor.

The screams lessen once people figure out our football team is in on it. Instead, cheers erupt as each senior guy is slayed.

Proctor puts on such a spectacle with tumbling over a table while a zombie eats his brain that the room breaks into applause. Looks like the forty-five minutes they took to choreograph that death was worth it.

"Lighten it up a bit, don't you think?" Julie nudges me with her shoe, and I glance up at her from my deathbed on the dance floor. "Do you know how long it's going to take us to get the stain from those blood capsules off your shirt?"

With a grunt, I stand up, admiring my masterpiece. All around me lay "dead" bodies with an apple-Jell-O brainlike concoction spilling onto the floor. This prank will be remembered forever.

"Come on, it's perfect this way."

"Some of the freshmen are crying. Your blood capsules destroyed their costumes. Lights on, now."

"Fine." I flag the DJ, who flicks the lights back on, then hands me the microphone. Time to wind this down. "Everyone, let's give the Dayton football team a round of applause!" The majority of the room erupts in cheers, and as planned, our freshmen football team step up with rags, quickly mopping up the mess on the floor and walls. Within minutes, the music is back on and the dance floor is packed.

"I don't recall approving twenty-one visitor vouchers." Julie crosses her arms.

"You did." I pull out the paper with her signature. Sure, I played a little dirty, showing up at her house with pizza on a night I know she drinks wine with her favorite reality TV shows. After her third glass, getting her to sign wasn't hard.

"Did you check their IDs?" she asks after examining the paper.

I tug out a thick square envelope from my back pocket. "All twenty-one IDs held and accounted for. I'll give them back on their way out the door."

"I've got nothing on you, huh?"

"Not this time. Sorry, Julie."

She rests her hand on my shoulder for a moment, then pulls it back. "Sorry, I forgot."

"It's fine."

"I've been worried about you, James. You're not acting like yourself lately."

"Nervous about tonight." Worried that once I let Edelweiss go, I'll fall back into my old life.

"I see. Well, thank you for putting in the effort to make sure the senior prank didn't target me." She laughs. "God, it'll feel good knowing that for one year, I don't have to worry about my stuff being destroyed."

"See." I nudge her. "I told you there's a perk of having your nephew be the mastermind behind most of the school pranks."

"As long as there is one perk, right?" She tucks her hands into the pockets of her trousers. "Want to come to breakfast Sunday morning? I accidently ordered eleven pounds of bacon online instead of one. Tossed most of it in the freezer, but if you want to—"

"You had me at bacon. I'll be there."

Julie rolls her eyes with a grin before she walks right through the dance floor to break up a few couples who have started grinding. I use her sea-parting to get to Edelweiss.

"That was something." She steps out from behind the table. "I have to hand it to you—when you commit, it's 100 percent. The attack looked like something from a movie." She glances at the patio, which—as expected after the attack—the custodian has now lit. I knew he'd want to make sure no one else is lurking out there.

"So, is this a good time?" she asks.

No. I'll never be ready to let go of you, Edelweiss.
Chapter Nineteen

Edelweiss

The leaves crunch under our feet as I gaze up at the sliver of the moon. "You didn't wear a costume," I say to James. The wind howls, biting at the skin on the back of my neck, arms, and legs.

James takes a seat a few feet away from me, as planned. The space feels awkward, and I can't help but slide an inch closer. Usually, we're right next to each other. He glances down at his football jersey. "Sure I did. I'm a football player." His warm chuckle fills the night air. "Honestly, I was so busy prepping the prank this evening I totally forgot." He glances back toward the windows at the dancers inside.

Probably wondering what he's missing out on. Or who, for that matter.

"We can make this fast if you want." My fingers fidget, so I ball them up in my lap. "I mean, fights are supposed to be quick, aren't they?"

He shakes his head. "Depends on the person. With you, it should start slow with talking. You're too sweet to just go off on me without trying to speak things through first. Maybe we talk a bit, and then you can stand up and yell a little? I'll come in like I'm going to kiss you, and you shove me away, stomping off. Or something like that?"

I nod. The wind whips around the corner, sending shivers down my legs.

"You're cold."

"A bit, yeah."

"Here. I'll give you my jersey."

I laugh. "No thanks." His thoughtfulness is killer. "Handing over your jersey isn't really breakup material."

He frowns, then a second later he tugs it off anyway, revealing a white T-shirt. "We'll tell people I was hot from dancing. Take it." Instead of tossing it over, he brings it over to me, then takes a seat on the bench right next to me.

"Now this really looks like we're breaking up." Still, I put it on. The jersey is still warm from his body.

He sighs, pressing himself off the bench and moving down to the next one over. "Better?"

"More believable." But not better. I press my toe into the ground, spinning it on a leaf to turn it into dust.

"So, what are you going to do with your freedom?"

"Sleep around, of course." I toss him an eye roll, and I can't help but catch the hiss in the back of his throat. "Kidding," I add. "I'll probably just hang out more with the girls."

"There's no guy you're waiting for?" He taps his lip. "Maybe Gavin would be good for you?"

"Gavin?" I actually cough. Most girls swoon over a guy with a guitar, but it's nothing compared to James. "No thanks. I'm not really interested in dating anyone. Once we break up, that item on my list will be checked off."

He nods. "Well, let me know if you need help checking off some of the other items on your list. I'm game."

"How? We won't be talking much."

"Right." He pulls out his phone. "I'm still going to text you after all this. Is that okay?"

Texting. Yes! At least that'll be some sort of connection we can maintain. "I'd be mad if you didn't."

"So..." He frowns. "You should probably stand up and yell at me a bit."

A dreadful feeling sinks within my chest. "I don't think I could ever yell at you."

"Sure you can." He laughs, glancing down at the patio. "I got a good earful after the shower rescue." When he looks back up, there's a firm determination in his eyes. He wants this. No, he needs us to be apart.

My heart nose-dives to the patio. There must be another girl.

What's wrong with me? None of this is real! I was never his girl to begin with. "I'm being silly. Of course I can yell at you."

A grin spreads across his face. "Then get to it." There's an arch in his brow, a playful challenge.

I jump to my feet, my heart fluttering like a humming bird. "James Parson!" My voice cracks.

"You call that a yell?" He laughs. "God, you are adorable."

Adorable? No! I want to be desirable. "Don't. Call. Me. Adorable."

"There we go. That's the anger we're looking for. Now shake your finger at me."

I do.

"Oh my God." His palms pull down his cheeks with a groan. "I knew I should have had Emma teach you the ropes of a good argument."

"Emma?" I stand back. "You wanted me to learn from Emma?"

"There you go! Now you look pissed off." That's because I am.

He jumps up and in one stride closes the distance between us, scooping me into him with his arm. When his lips touch mine, it's bold and brilliant.

And then I'm gone.

My lips part, and I can't help but let him kiss me, and oh how he kisses me. How am I supposed to push him away? Logic defies me with the heat from his lips and the way he curls me into his chest.

"Edelweiss," he whispers, pulling away briefly.

"Just—" I stretch up on my tiptoes and brush my lips against his once more.

"Trying to make it look real?" he asks.

My response is another kiss.

"I'm thinking you should take up drama club."

"Maybe." Heat floods my cheeks. What am I doing? I press my palms into his chest, glancing up at those deep, brown eyes, focusing on those golden flecks so I'll never forget how mesmerizing they are.

"Edel." There's an ache in his voice. He's begging for this to end. Now.

If that's what he needs, I'll give it. Even if he has no idea he's walking away with my heart in his hands.

"Go," I hiss, pressing into his chest with all my force. He staggers backward, his eyes popping wide in shock. Maybe he should be the one taking up drama club.

"Edelweiss!" He calls after me, and I force myself to ignore him, bolting back inside before I lose brain function and maul him with my lips one last time.

...

"What do you mean it's over?" Tuti's warm hand rests on my back. "You two were just kissing on the patio."

"He..." God, I can't even say the lie he wanted me to tell people—how we just stopped feeling our spark. "It's just over, Tuti. We're not right for each other."

Her fingernails gently scratch my back. "I'm so sorry, Edelweiss. I know how much you liked him. Maybe you guys just need to talk things out?"

"No. We tried that." My voice cracks, and as it does, my heart goes with it. My eyes burn into my pillowcase, tears squeezing their way out.

It's really over.

Our bedroom door flies open. "Is this real?" Ainsley asks while she charges through the room, waving her cell phone in the air.

"He's such an ass!" Charlotte runs in behind her. "Oh, heavens. Look at you!"

I try to drag my head off the pillow, but it's almost like there's a weight pinning me down, the universe demanding that I stay put while it figures out where my heart went.

Charlotte kneels, her forehead puckering as she shakes her head. "You've got it bad, girl."

"And you think that's helping?" Ainsley groans, yanking her back. "Edelweiss, please." She holds up her phone, showing me Proctor's Instagram post from the party still going on downstairs. It's a photo of James with a girl in his math class dancing together. She's pressed in so close that her boobs look like they might pop out of that little angel gown. The image makes me sick, but the caption makes my skin prickle and the hair on my arms stand on end.

How could he say that about me?

"What does it say?" Tuti asks, taking the phone and reading aloud. "Closed legs means a new girl for the King of Brockmore." She drops the phone. "Oh my god. That's horrible. He broke up with you because you didn't want to have sex?"

I can't even answer the question. Man, he must have wanted distance from me fast if he was willing to say that. My stomach turns over, and I groan, reaching for my trash bin.

"Whoa, girl." Charlotte jumps out of the way just in time, and someone holds my hair back while the punch I drank at the dance decides to take an encore.

"No more pictures. No more questions. Are we in agreement, girls?"

Tuti smooths my hair back, and I can't help but look to Ainsley. How I wish I could explain everything to her. We should have told her that we weren't real. And now she truly believes her brother is an asshole. "Ainsley, I'll be fine. Don't believe that photo, okay?"

"And she's delusional." Charlotte hands me a tissue for my mouth. "Honey, this has nothing to do with Ainsley."

Ainsley presses her lips together. "What happened, then?"

"Oh my God." Charlotte tosses a pillow at Ainsley. "If you aren't going to comfort her, then go."

"Fine." Ainsley shoves herself off Tuti's bed and makes for the door.

"What's gotten into her?" she says.

Charlotte sighs. "I think she's always liked James. I swear I've seen them talking more than a few times. God." She plops on Tuti's bed. "How did I miss that?"

Tuti seethes. "Charlotte. Is this really the right time for all this?"

"Guys, forget her." I sit up and hug my pillow to my chest. "She needs a little time. It'll work out, I promise."

"Well, I doubt you'll want any of this." Charlotte looks to a bag on the floor. "When I saw the Instagram post, I may have flirted with one of the servers down there and convinced him to steal us a few pints of Ben and Jerry's from the kitchen."

"Seriously?" Tuti squeaks, looking into the plastic bag. "Chocolate chip cookie dough!"

"Have at it." I curl up and press as deep into the mattress as I can manage. "My chest actually aches. How long does this last?"

Charlotte sighs. "Unfortunately, none of us has ever been in love before. You're sort of paving the way on this one. But we've watched enough Netflix to know we need ice cream."

Love?

The word I've desperately pushed out of my mind since James first kissed me in the library snakes its way into the empty void in my chest.

No. I can't love him. A deep sense of betrayal is what's ripping through me. How dare he take my heart and toss it on the dance floor with a label that makes me seem like the most pathetic girl in school?
Chapter Twenty

James

"Tell me you didn't!" Someone barrels into my shoulder the moment I step onto the quad the next morning.

"What the hell?" I whip around, surprised to see Ainsley staring me down. Whoa. The girl hits better than some of our defenders. She holds up her phone, showing me the photo that haunted me all night.

After Edelweiss left me on the patio, I nearly came undone. My lips were on fire, and my heart felt like it was trying to push its way out of my rib cage, yet I couldn't walk. The lines of our plan and what played out blurred. Did she push me away as planned or did she push me because my last kiss got through to her, the desperation in my lips telling her how much I wanted to hold on to her? I was ready to tell her the breakup was off. With her in my arms and her lips on my mouth, I couldn't put myself first. She drained my strength. I couldn't send her off into a better life.

Luckily, she was strong enough for both of us.

Proctor saw it all. I knew he'd watch us out there because his eyes have been on Edelweiss from the start. When I walked back inside, the first question out of his mouth was when he could ask her out. It took every fiber in me not to knock him off his feet. Instead, the only thing I thought would distract him from Edelweiss poured out of my mouth. "What's the point?" I'd said. "She won't put out."

My biggest mistake. Even in trying to protect her, I failed her.

Word spread fast, and then the night spun out of control. First Veronica, then Devonne, followed by Avery.

The stench of their perfume suffocated me, screaming that they weren't her.

Ainsley clears her throat. "I always thought you were better than this, James Matthew."

"It's not like that."

"Oh?" She shouts, throwing her jacket to the ground. Students pour out the back door for Saturday afternoon flag football.

A small, soft giggle floats down the steps. "Oh, Jamie. Don't tell us that Ainsley was your side piece."

"Emma, get a life." I roll my eyes, watching her take a photo of us. "No one's going to believe that."

She sputters. "Right? I know. Who would have thought that the big guy on campus would snuggle up with such a twat."

"Don't you dare call her that," I growl.

Ainsley's eyes narrow, and before I can flinch, she charges up the stairs and snags Emma by the hair, yanking her down.

A second later, I'm crawling over people to protect Ainsley from Emma's burning smack—one I know far too well. A whistle blows, and the crowd thins leaving me with a girl under each arm. Creighton bursts through the door. "You two." She points to both Ainsley and me. "In my office, now."

"What about Emma?" I ask.

"I'll visit with her this evening. Until then she'll be in her dorm room. Correct?" She looks to Emma who nods back, dropping her chin. "The show's over, everyone."

Ten minutes later, Julie's seated at one side of her oak desk, and Ainsley and I are on the other. "How long has this been going on?" She grabs her pen, glaring at me. "You promised me, James, that you would never touch my foster daughter."

Ainsley sighs. "Julie. It's not his fault."

She laughs. "You expect me to believe that you hit on him? God." She shakes her head slowly. "I thought when you both lived under my roof in the summer that you were just friends. How many times... Under my roof." She shakes her head.

"Julie, trust me on this one. You are completely off base," I say.

"James, I'm going to have to call your father. And Ainsley, I'm sorry, babe, but there's no way I can hold this information back from the social worker."

"But he's my brother!" Ainsley spits the words out before I even have time to grasp my chair.

Oh shit.

The silver pen that was between Julie's fingers clinks on the table. "Excuse me?"

We are all silent for a moment, and Ainsley looks absolutely frozen, so I scoot forward. "Ainsley." I reach out, nudging her elbow. "Smile for her."

"How is that going to help?"

"Just do it."

She rolls her eyes, smiling for Julie, and I scoot forward and do the same.

Her eyes grow wide. "Oh my Lord. Did you..." She swallows.

"DNA tests? Yup. The results are in my desk drawer."

"How did you figure it out?"

"An old photo."

"No wonder you always found an excuse not to be around when Peter came to visit." She tucks her pen into her mouth. Then her eyes grow wide. "Peter! He doesn't know."

"Not yet, ma'am," Ainsley says.

"We are planning to tell him come the end of the year."

"Listen." Julie leans forward. "This conversation never happened. Ever. Do you hear me? If the state knows you have a father, you'll be yanked from under my roof and from Brockmore. You'll have to go through processing. There will be court dates. Tuition costs. You need to think this through and time it properly."

"I know," Ainsley says softly. "That's why I don't want to tell him yet."

"I graduate at the end of May. I'm sure Dad can stretch one more year of tuition. I have this all figured out."

"Honey." Julie steps around her desk and pulls Ainsley into a hug. "I wish you would have told me." A tear rolls down her cheek. "Wow. I was not expecting this."

"Me neither." I glance at Ainsley. Only true terror would have made her spill that secret. A shiver runs down my back. She spent two years in the foster system before landing at Brockmore. What happened to her there?

"Okay." Julie claps. "You two are having dinner at my house tonight. We have a lot more to talk about. And regarding your punishment." She tosses her hands up in the air. "Ainsley, you will have detention on Saturday morning for pulling Emma's hair. And James?"

"I already spend every Saturday morning in the stables, Julie. The only night we don't have practice is Wednesday, so can we do it then?"

"No." She lifts her hand to my cheek, her skin a slight shade darker than my own. This is what my mother's skin looked like. Felt like. "You stood up for your sister, James Matthew. I could not be more proud." She lands a soft kiss on my forehead before sending us both out of her office.

Throughout the day, I search for Edelweiss. Well, at least she'll know the new rumor about me and Ainsley is false.

Six hours later, Ainsley and I crawl into the backseat of the car Julie sent for us. "Did you really dump Edelweiss because she wouldn't have sex? Look me in the eyes as you answer me, James."

I do. "No," I say firmly. "This has nothing to do with that."

"I knew it." Ainsley grasps her bag on her lap. "Why did you really dump her?"

I sigh, feeling my grip on sanity loosen from the exhaustion of the day weighing down on my chest. "I didn't."

"She dumped you?"

"Ainsley, we were never together."

"What?" Her eyebrow lifts.

"It was all fake. A phony relationship to appease Dad so he wouldn't yank me out of Brockmore, and it kept girls like Emma away from me for a while."

Her nose scrunches up. "He was going to take you out? Would he do that?"

"He planned to enroll me in an online school so I could live with him on base. He was sick of my pranks."

The Uber driver hits a bump at the end of Brockmore's drive, throttling us both upward and landing with a thump. We glance at each other, scrambling to buckle our safety belts. "So all this time you two have been playing along?"

"Not exactly."

"Wait. You like her?"

"Far too much for her own good." I glance out the window. "Can we stop talking about this right now? It's not worth it."

"James. I think you need to talk with Edelweiss."

"Why?"

"Because you may find out she feels the same way."

"Ainsley, I was about to." The pressure of Edel's hands shoving me away still remains on my chest. "Trust me. Girls like her shouldn't be with me."

"Yes, she should." She nudges me with her knee. "Talk with her."

"No." I grit my teeth, gazing out the window. "She'll be happier this way. Trust me."

The night moves along like molasses. Ainsley hounds me about Edelweiss every time Julie leaves the room. So much so that there's a flicker of hope in my chest that maybe, just maybe, Edel really is as miserable as I am.

And hoping that probably makes me evil.

Still, when we get back to Brockmore, we walk back up to the dorms, making sure to avoid the lounge, where Emma's shrieking voice makes the hair on my neck stand on end. Once Ainsley goes into the girls' side, I run back down the grand stairway and outside. Edel's room is six windows down from the lounge. The lights are on, and the curtains are open.

The stone's frigid, but I scale the wall anyway. For the first time, I'm not terrified of the distance between my feet and the ground.

As I climb, I make myself a deal. If she seems upset, I'll knock and Romeo and Juliet the crap out of the situation.

But if she's not, then I'll walk away forever.

When I peer through the glass, my chest grows heavy. Charlotte is spinning her in the middle of the room with a blindfold on. On the wall there's a giant picture of a guy wearing only football pads with blurred out junk. Is she seriously playing pin the dick on the jock?

A bark of a laugh escapes my throat. Ainsley has never been so off. Edelweiss will be just fine without me.

...

On Monday morning, Edelweiss looks like nothing ever happened between us. Well, technically nothing did. Her uniform is wrinkle free, unlike mine. I tug at my white dress shirt, the front pocket all screwed up from accidently sleeping on top of it. It's hard to give a shit about school when the only thing I looked forward to is now out of my grasp.

Her blue eyes flicker to mine from across the banquet hall with a brief nod. Then she drops her head, moving to the table with her friends and Jordan. Keeping her distance, as planned.

"Do you mind if I sit here?" A female voice intrudes from behind me.

You knew this would be the consequence of letting Edelweiss go.

I pull my eyes off my blond fairy, looking over my shoulder at the voice. Veronica cracks a smile, nudging the empty chair next to me with her toe. "Sure. Take a seat. I can always use a little company."

I wave down Mason, Proctor, and Pickles. There's no way I'm going to be stuck here alone. When I wave to Gavin, he rolls his eyes, pointing at an empty table in the corner and his black songwriting journal. A moment after he sits down, I send him a text. Dude. Join me.

My phone pings a second later. Can't help when inspiration hits.

What are you writing?

A love song.

You're writing a love song? Where the hell did that inspiration come from?

I've got a nice crash test dummy to watch.

I flinch. There's no way he knows.

"James, I don't think I have your number." Veronica pulls out her phone. "Here, smile!" I lift my eyes long enough for her to snap a quick shot of us. "For your contact photo," she explains before she types in my digits.

A second later she does another shot via Snapchat, and in this one she's bold enough to type "Future bae?" across the screen.

"Emphasis on the question mark," I mutter under my breath.

"Excuse me?"

"Nothing." I try to take a bite of eggs, but they taste like rubber, and my coffee may as well be sewage.

Dude. Your four o'clock, Gavin texts.

When I turn to look, a sickening feeling swells within my chest. Proctor hovers over Edelweiss, and for the first time in Brockmore history, his shirt is actually tucked in. A second later, he grabs the chair at the adjacent table and pulls it up next to her, Charlotte wiggling her chair over to give him room.

"Excuse me." I push myself away from the table. "Can I borrow your seat?" I ask one of the freshman football players at the table beside Edelweiss's. He jumps out of his chair to make room for me.

Proctor will not get to Edel.

"Hey, mind if I join you?" I bump the back of Jordan's chair with mine.

Jordan looks to Edelweiss, who is sitting so straight you'd think she was being interrogated. I raise my eyebrow at Jordan when she doesn't respond. Help a guy out! "Sure," he finally says, shifting out of the way.

"Are you kidding me?" Tuti knocks Jordan on the back of the head.

Proctor growls as I take my place next to Edelweiss. "Is there something you need?"

"Actually, I have a question for you. Why'd you put that post on Instagram?"

"The one of you nearly dry-humping Veronica?" He shifts an inch closer to Edelweiss, as if he valiantly wants to protect her.

That's when Edelweiss looks at me, and those eyes, those soulful blue eyes look deep into my own. "Did you really say that about me?"

I take a deep breath, refusing to lie. She needs to know all of who I am if I'm ever going to be able to win her over. "Yes, it slipped out because I thought it'd keep guys like him away from you. And, Proctor, she dumped me."

Proctor laughs. "She dumped you? For what?"

"None of your business." Her words bite at the air. "I need to get to class."

She gets up, and immediately I hop to my feet. "Can I walk you?"

Edelweiss spins on her heels, ignoring me. Instead she rests her hand on Proctor's shoulder. "John, if you sincerely need help with calc, meet me after lunch in the library."

His eyes widen, taunting me with his victory. "Thank you, Edelweiss. It's ruining me."

"Okay." She tosses on her coat and messenger bag, then heads toward the dining hall's door.

"You can't get close to that guy," I whisper while I follow her. "He's wretched, Edelweiss." When the door slams shut behind her, I reach out, gently touching her shoulder. "Come on."

"James, I'm a big girl. I can take care of myself."

"Proctor isn't the type of guy you want. Don't be with him to get back at me."

"Get back at you?" She tosses open the back door, and my gut sinks, realizing I forgot to open it for her. The sharp November air stings my skin. "I don't want to get back at you, James. Telling Proctor that I wouldn't put out sucked, but you did what you thought you had to do to protect your image. I understand exactly what I signed up for when I agreed to 'date' you."

"I didn't do it to protect my image." I growl, following her into the quad. "How can you offer to tutor him? He posted that shit!"

"Tutoring someone in math is on my list." She shakes her head. "As for him, he told me he posted that Instagram so I would know what type of guy you really are."

"So you believe him?"

"Seriously? You aren't allowed to ask me that question."

"Why not?"

"Because..." Those bee-stung lips press together firmly. "Because you know me and you know how well I know you, which is exactly why you should have stayed away the moment you saw John sit next to me at the table. Do you think I'd fall for him? I'm just going to help him with a few math problems. I've corrected his papers in class. He's a legit disaster."

"He won't be interested in math."

"Then I'll set him straight. Now, if you excuse me, I need to get to class." She pushes past me, jogging up the stairs into the math building.

"Edelweiss?" I call up after her. "You're right."

"About what?"

"Everything."
Chapter Twenty-One

Edelweiss

Everything? What the hell does that mean?

"And, time's up." Ms. Jennison's voice yanks me out of my world.

Time? No. It can't be! Only four of ten quiz questions are completed.

"Ms. Lee, that means pencils down."

Shoot. My pencil drops to the desk. "Yes, ma'am."

"Now hand your quiz to the person next to you." I sigh, handing my exam over to Jordan.

He glances over my paper, lifting an eyebrow. "You can't be serious?" he whispers, taking out his red pen. "Even I finished eight of them."

Ten minutes later he hands back my paper, and I'm looking at my first F. Well, guess I can check that off my list now, too.

On my way out of class, my eyes automatically move to the back wall near the bulletin board where James used to wait to walk me to English class. My throat swells at his absence.

"Edelweiss." Emma steps out from behind the door. "I'm sorry to hear about you and James."

"What do you want, Emma?" My patience is gone, and I just don't have it in me to deal with her right now.

"Nothing." She runs her hands through those beautiful, beachy waves, glaring at my short bob.

"Then we're done." I peel myself off the wall.

"It's really romantic, isn't it, Edelweiss?"

"What is?"

"What James did last night?" She pulls out her phone, showing me a photo of James clinging to the stones of Brockmore outside of my window. When was he outside my window?

"It'd be a shame if this photo found its way into Headmistress Creighton's hands."

He would have told me before he made a climb like that. It's not like using the ledge, which is dangerous enough. He would have given me a heads up if he was going to scale an entire wall, especially with his fear of heights. "You Photoshopped it. No one was outside my window last night."

"In your room," she corrects. "He was in your room."

I can't help but press my lips together at her daring implication. Obviously, she's up to something. "Stop this. Do you want James kicked out of the school?"

She shrugs. "Maybe. He's been a pretty shitty friend this year."

"Friend?" I laugh. "You cheated on him. How is he supposed to act?"

"He knew what we were. Don't tell me you think he was exclusive with me the whole time." She rolls her eyes. "Come on, Edel. I know you're naïve, but you've got to know the guy got around."

"Don't do this to him."

"Well, you can save him if you want to."

"Excuse me?"

"See Ms. Jennison's desk? She keeps the midterm in her top drawer. Get me the test, and I won't turn in the picture."

"Are you kidding me?" I glance through the window of the classroom.

"Dead serious, otherwise I'm showing it to Creighton by sundown."

As she saunters away from me, all I can see is the look of disappointment that will be on Colonel Parson's face. There's no way he can know. If Creighton finds out, James will be yanked from the school by tomorrow.

Blood flies through my veins as I glance back into the classroom to see Ms. Jennison sorting through the quizzes at the front podium. James may have hurt me, but that's my fault for not guarding my heart. I can't hold that against him. He was always honest with me. How can I find fault in him acting like the guy he always warned me he was?

But if I walk away from Emma, leaving that photo in her possession, I'd knowingly be ruining James's life at Brockmore. Emma may be low enough to want that, but I'm the type of girl who rises up. She's not getting to James. Not if I have anything to do with it.

"Ma'am?" I duck back into the classroom, my heart thrashing in my chest. This can be done with my bobby pin. Mom said she'd never regret teaching me to pick a lock, for my own safety, but I'm pretty sure she'll be eating her words after this.

"Edelweiss, I'm glad you hung back." Ms. Jennison pulls out my quiz. "What happened here?"

I sigh, leaning up against her desk, two feet away from the drawer. "I was distracted, Ms. Jennison."

"I'll say so. You're ranked top in the class."

"I know." I look out the window, and the tears I need come easily. When I glance back at her, my cheeks are wet.

"Now, Edelweiss, I know this is your first failing grade, but I'm sure we can work through this with a little extra credit."

"That's not my problem." I wipe away one of the tears. "James dumped me this weekend. He said he loved me, so I..." I shake my head, hoping she'll put together a picture with James's reputation that'll support the tears.

"Oh, honey." She reaches out, pulling me into a hug. "Come here."

"Thanks." I grab a tissue off her desk when she releases me, moving another foot closer to the drawer. "I can't believe it. One second, I'm the only girl he sees, and then I thought... Well, and you know how it goes. God." I scuff my heel on the floor, shifting a bit closer. "I'm such a fool. I thought he was different."

"You're not a fool. I've been with a selfish man before, too."

"Yeah?" Time to take what I have and work with it.

I let my lower lip tremble and finally allow my lungs to react to the ache in my chest that's been there since I left James out on the patio.

"Are you okay, honey?"

I grab her desk. "I don't feel so well." Then, I let my knees weaken a bit. "Haven't eaten for a few days," I explain.

"Oh dear. Here." She plops me in her desk chair with a firm grip on my shoulders. "Stay seated, and I'll be back with something from our lounge for you to eat. Don't faint on me, Edelweiss. Promise me."

"Yes, ma'am." I sigh, leaning my head down between my legs. Only when I can't hear her heals clicking on the tile anymore do I look up.

The room's clear.

I yank out my bobby pin, and within twenty-two seconds I have the drawer open. I don't dare take the exam, but my phone captures an image of each page. With a few flicks of my wrist, I relock the drawer. The lock looks flawless, not a scratch.

Too bad I didn't write down breaking and entering on my list.

With the click-clack of heels, I drop my head back between my legs. A minute later, Ms. Jennison's hand lands on my shoulder. "Here you go, dear. A little lemonade and a cookie should give you a boost."

I take a little sip and the cool liquid both soothes and fills my stomach. Whoa. Have I really not eaten in the last forty-eight hours?

"There you go, dear." She perches on her desk. "Is that better?"

"Yes, thank you. Between the breakup and the quiz, I must have pushed myself over the edge." I stand, staggering a step before I right myself. Yikes. That wasn't acting at all. The weight of the photos on my phone burns a hole in my hand.

"I'm sorry, Edelweiss. You know I can't let you retake the quiz."

"I wouldn't dream of asking you such a thing, but thanks for the talk. It helped."

"It did?" She pushes out her chest a bit, her wool cardigan catching on her broach. "Anytime you need to talk, come find me."

"I will."

"What's your next class?" She stands up, grabbing a notepad.

"English."

"Here you go." She hands me an approved late slip. "You'll need this."

"Thanks." I tuck the note into my pocket as the bell rings, and guilt strangles my breath as I do.

Three hours later, I catch Emma on her way to cheerleading practice. "What's your number?" I ask.

"Why?"

"Because I have some photos for you," I growl. I flash the image of the paper, and her eyes pop wide.

"Oh my God! You actually did it." She takes my cell phone, sending the images to her own number.

"Delete the photo of James."

"My phone is in my room. It's not allowed at practice."

"You're not going to delete it, are you?" I want to shove her up against a wall.

"Babe, I'd be a fool if I did. See." She leans into me, whispering, "Now that I know your trigger, I own you."

My heart slithers to the ground. How could I be so foolish? "Don't do this, Emma."

Emma giggles. "This will be so fun." She glances back at Brockmore Hall. "How about you stop by my room tonight for your next assignment?"

"Not happening." She will not own me.

"Then you can kiss James and Brockmore good-bye."

Her words stop me in my tracks. Sure, watching James hit on other girls, like he did this morning at breakfast, will destroy me, but living at Brockmore without James? He's what makes this place home to me. "I'll stop by before curfew."

Evil must sweat out of her pores.

...

One month of being at Emma's beck and call has exhausted every bone in my body. No one knows, of course. It's all done behind closed doors, internet ordering, and sneaking through the secret passageway James showed me the first day of school to the kitchen to get snacks after hours.

Still, my bones sigh as I lie down. How much longer can I keep this up?

"Absolutely perfect." Tuti adjusts her new softbox toward the corner where she's already draped a hippylike textile of colorful geometric designs as a backdrop for her next YouTube video. "What do you think?" Her fingers brush her lips as she studies the setting.

"I like it better than the gold sparkling one that you used before."

She nods. "I'm trying to blend my makeup channel into more of a lifestyle vlog with a plant-based living bit. That's hot right now."

"I didn't know you were vegan."

She laughs. "I'm not, but I'll become one if it'll gain me another hundred thousand subscribers. Haven't found anyone like me who's dominated that niche. And I've got the advantage of the boarding school keyword to help with it."

"Always the businesswoman. I can't make fun of you for that."

"Nope." Tuti studies her latest eye shadow palette from Urban Decay. "I'm thinking I'll use glimmer for my Winter Ball eye tutorial. Do you think I can pull it off?"

"With a champagne base? Absolutely." I press myself to smile for her benefit. It's taken work to hide all the dread that I'm constantly wrestling with, but it's worth it to keep our room a place Tuti still wants to be. I bet it'd suck to have to share your room with someone who's always miserable.

"Only one week. Did you get your dress yet?" Tuti blots a few different colors of lipstick on her plump lower lip, deciding on bold red.

"Not yet." Not to mention a date. To avoid Proctor and Emma, I've had to become a recluse.

My phone dings from across the room, vibrating on my desk.

"Is that James again?"

"It's probably my mom."

"She texts a lot lately, doesn't she? Thought she was more of a Skype woman."

I trudge across the room with bricks in my feet, knowing it'll be Emma, because it's always Emma. My room is out of filtered water.

When I glance up, I catch sight of myself in Tuti's mirror. Dark circles shadow my eyelids, and my eyes look dull. Serving Emma grates against my essence, but if fetching her a bottle of water or—hell—handing over my sports bra from my gym locker because she forgot hers for cheer practice will help keep James in Brockmore? Then I'll do it. Over and over again.

Girls swarm James every evening in the dining hall, and it seems like every night he gazes at one like she is the most interesting girl in the world, but there's always a moment where all of this is worth it. His eye will catch mine from across the room, tripling the size of my heart.

I open his last text, sent yesterday. Exes usually become friends after a month or two. So in two weeks, I'm walking you to class.

When I didn't respond right away, he texted again. We need to catch up.

It took me two hours to figure out how to respond. I settled on a smiley face emoji. Seeing him is one thing, but if I open my mouth to speak, I'll only be able to say the truth, and then he'll never want to talk to me again.

I respond to Emma's text. On it.

There's a knock at our door a moment later. I toss off my blankets. Seriously? She came to my room! I yank open the door, biting my tongue. But instead of Emma, Ainsley and Charlotte barrel in. "Guys." Ainsley flicks on the lights. "You need to see this."

"What is it?" Tuti yawns, sitting up in bed.

"Look what I found online." Ainsley opens her laptop, spinning it around. Seeing those images again feels like I swallowed a live fish. No! Emma posted the exam!

"That was our midterm exam, correct?" Charlotte asks.

"Oh my God." Tuti crawls in closer to examine the screen. "It is."

"And the time stamp of the image URL was the day before the test." Charlotte ruffles her red hair. "I wish I'd found this sooner. I could've used the edge up."

"And cheat? Umm, no." Tuti nudges her. "Not on my watch."

"How would someone have gotten this?"

Emma wants me to get expelled so badly she's willing to take herself down with me. Something in my chest snaps like a thick rubber band. This voids every agreement I've had with her. In less than twenty-four hours, someone will be able to trace this all back to her, then back to me.

My parents taught me integrity—I may have forgotten it for a month to protect James—but I'm not going down this way. Sure, I'll bend to keep James out of trouble, but this will certainly land me in expulsion territory. Does it matter though? I feel like I'm walking on eggshells here, and I hate having so many secrets from my friends. Confession will bring me freedom, even if it also means I pack my bags forever.

I slide off my bed and walk right out of the room. "Where are you going?" Tuti calls from behind.

"I've got something to do." I clench my fist, banging on Emma's door.

Tuti pops her head out of the door, watching. "Guys," she calls back into the room. "Edelweiss has lost it. She's at Emma's door."

"Can I help you?" Emma asks as she opens her door. Fluffy white slippers match her flowing nightgown.

"You sleep in a gown?"

She checks me out, her eyes lingering on my tattered T-shirt. "I treat myself right."

"Can I come in?"

"No."

"Okay then. Why'd you post the test?"

Charlotte's gasp echoes off the walls.

"I have no idea what you're talking about, Edelweiss."

"Is that so?"

"Yup." She leans against the doorframe. "Would you mind getting me a water? I'm so thirsty."

"No." I dig my toes into the carpet. "You posted the exam. That wasn't part of the deal."

Her chin tilts back, and her sinister giggle bubbles from her throat. "I make the rules, Edelweiss. Not you."

"I'm done with you. Get your own water." I turn my back to her and walk back to my room.

"Don't you care about James anymore? I see how you look at him."

"James?" I laugh. "James will be fine. Trust me." I'll make sure this doesn't link back to him.

Emma crosses her arms. "What are you doing, Edel?"

"Something I should have been strong enough to do the moment you approached me in the math building." I push past Ainsley, Charlotte, and Tuti. They follow me back into my room, and not surprisingly my phone is lighting up like a Christmas tree. Don't you dare! She texts. I'll show the headmistress the pictures of James if you tell. Then you'll both be expelled. Stealing an exam gets you a one-way ticket home from Brockmore. Say good-bye to high school, bitch.

"Edelweiss?" Tuti closes the door. "What's going on?"

"Nothing." Heat wraps its way around my chest, and I yank at my collar. Am I ready to be expelled? I grab my little notebook and flip to the things I need to experience before college—that is, if I can even get into college after this.

Screw up, big time.

Well, at least getting expelled will let me check that item off.

"Edelweiss." Ainsley takes a seat on the floor near my bed. "Tell us."

"Tell us what?" Charlotte takes a seat on my bed.

"Let us in. Whatever situation you are in, we can help." Ainsley adds.

"I..." My breath trembles in my chest. "Ainsley, you'll hate me if I tell the truth."

"No, I won't. I promise you."

Tuti takes my hand. "You're in trouble."

"Big trouble." I take a deep breath. "I'm the one who stole the test, for Emma."

"You're working for Emma?" Charlotte's mouth hangs open.

"How did you get roped into that?" Tuti asks.

"Ainsley..." I drop my eyes to the floor. "James and I were never really dating. Our relationship was fake." Charlotte gasps, and a moment later Tuti's eyes drop to the floor. Only Ainsley's eyes remain on me. "I'm so sorry I didn't tell you guys."

Tuti and Charlotte will forgive me. But Ainsley? How can she forgive me for lying to her when she trusted me with so much?

"It's okay, Edel." She squeezes my hand. "I already knew."

"You did?" I say at the exact same time as Tuti.

"James told me the day after you broke up." She picks at my comforter.

"Whoa." Charlotte reaches over me and turns on my bedside lamp, shining it at me like a spotlight. "I'm sorry, you guys may be quick and all, but I need this to be slowed down. Ainsley, why are you talking to James in secret? Were those rumors about you and him true?"

"Eww. No." Ainsley rolls her eyes.

"Start over then. I feel like I missed a few steps," Charlotte demands.

So I do. I tell them everything I know—except for Ainsley's secret—from the minute James ran me over with his motorbike. When I get to Emma's blackmail, Ainsley is so mad that her fists are clenched and she's pacing back and forth.

"This is horrible." Tuti hugs her knees. "There must be a way to fix this that won't lead to either of your expulsions."

"Don't worry, I already figured one out."

"No, Edelweiss. You can't." Ainsley grabs the footboard of my bed, her knuckles turning ghostly white.

"She can't what? God!" Charlotte smacks the nightstand. "Slow this down, people!"

When she realizes what I'm set on doing, Tuti whispers, "Oh my God. You're going to turn yourself in."
Chapter Twenty-Two

James

Gavin tucks his guitar into his case. "You want to talk about it?"

I nudge my computer. "Nope."

"Just ask Edelweiss to the dance."

"Rumor has it she's going with Proctor." A total lie. I'm just a coward afraid of rejection. A real rejection, one that I can't control as part of the game we played through the first half the semester.

"Doubt it. If Proctor had a date, he wouldn't be hanging out with the sophomore girls so much." He takes a sip of water, then suddenly stops as his eyes fix above my head. "Whoa."

"What?"

He gulps. "Pretty sure there's a girl outside of our window."

"What?" I whip around, and my stomach skydives at the sight of Ainsley's silver eyes. It's not safe out there! A second later I have the window open, and I pull her little frame into my arms. "What are you thinking? You could have died. And you're only wearing pajamas. You're freezing."

"Says the guy who risks his neck all the time on that ledge to get around."

I yank my comforter off my bed and pull it around her shoulders. "Not when it's below freezing!"

"Well, you should have answered my texts and calls."

My hand checks my back pocket. Empty. "Shit. I must have left my phone in my gym bag." I grab the duffel and find my iPhone nestled in the bottom. "Sorry."

Gavin floats toward the door. "I think I'm going to head out if you guys are...umm."

"No," Ainsley snaps. Like, literally snaps. "Both of you take a seat. We need to talk." She clears her throat, pointing at me. "You talk. Now."

"About what?"

"Tell him," she growls.

Gavin gathers his laptop and sweatshirt. "It's fine. I think I've figured out what's going on here."

"Gavin, you're going to want to sit down." I pick up the water cup that at some point he dropped on the ground. "Ainsley's my sister."

"Your what?" He presses his palms deep into his temples just as he does when he's stuck on lyrics. "Impossible."

"Why?" Ainsley tosses her hand on her hip. "Just because our skin tone is different doesn't mean that we're not related."

"Of course not. Sorry. I just didn't see that coming." He sighs. "So you're related." His Adam's apple bounces up, swallowing whatever lump he's keeping from me. I glance between him and Ainsley. Could he like her?

No. How would they even know each other more than in passing? They don't have any classes together.

"We have the same father." I turn to Ainsley. "But that doesn't explain why you're here and making me tell this to my roommate."

"Edelweiss is in trouble."

I'm moving toward the door before I can even process anything. "Where is she?"

"Stop, James. She's not, like, physically in trouble. She's in her room."

"Fine, I'll go out the window."

"No." She steps in front of it, blocking my path. "That'll only make it worse."

"Ainsley, what's going on?"

"Emma blackmailed Edelweiss into stealing the calculus midterm, and then tonight Emma posted the photos of the test online. It's only hours before the administration realizes what happened."

Gavin picks up his phone and scrolls through it. "Not hours. They sent an email out three minutes ago. There's an entire school assembly tomorrow morning at eight o'clock to address academic dishonesty."

"Wait." I sit down on the radiator, jumping up when its heat bites back. "Why would Edelweiss steal a test for Emma?"

"To protect you." Ainsley sighs. "Emma apparently has an incriminating photo of you sneaking into Edelweiss's room through the window."

"From earlier this semester?" Gavin asks. "Bad luck, man. I thought you'd kept a low profile."

Ainsley crosses the room and grabs my favorite hoodie off the back of my chair. "From the night we ate dinner at our aunt's house. Did you climb that wall, or was that Photoshopped? You were wearing this."

"Guilty." I dig my fingernails into the woodwork of my bedframe. "But I didn't go in. She had no idea I was there. You were wrong about her, by the way. She wasn't miserable at all. In fact, she was pinning a dick on a poster on the wall with Charlotte."

"Did you see her eyes?"

"Well, no. She was blindfolded."

"You're an idiot. Charlotte bought it to try to cheer her up, because... Well, you know, Charlotte sometimes misses the mark. I told her it wasn't a good idea, but I guess she decided to run with it, since I was going to my foster mom's for dinner."

"James, I thought you were eating dinner at your aunt's?"

"Same thing," I mutter. "Go on, Ainsley."

"Same thing? Your aunt is also her foster mom?" Gavin tosses his pillow at me. "How many secrets have you been keeping from me?"

Ainsley ignores him. "I walked in on the scene a minute too late. When she took off the blindfold and saw the guy in the football pads, she fell apart. She was like a puddle on the floor that we had to scoop up. But that's beside the point. She needs your help."

"Let me see the images of the test."

Gavin tosses me the phone, and I examine the images and the URL.

"There's no way they can trace these pictures back to Edelweiss. I think she'll be all right."

"No." Ainsley shakes her head. "Because Edelweiss is determined to turn herself in the moment Julie walks through those doors."

"Julie?" Gavin sighs. "Who's Julie?"

"Creighton." My hands find the back of my neck.

"James, what the hell is going on?"

I suck in a deep breath. "Gavin, do you swear to secrecy?"

"I've been your roommate for four years."

"And best friend," I add.

"I've got your back, man. No matter what."

I flick my eyes up to him. "Creighton is my aunt."

His butt flies off the bed like someone lit a spark under his ass. "How could you keep that from me? This all makes sense!"

"And my relationship with Edelweiss was completely fake. A total sham to appease our parents. The only reason I'm still at Brockmore is because I knew that if Edel and I were together, given our parents' friendship, my dad wouldn't yank me out of here. I convinced her to fake date me for a few months in exchange for me helping her adjust to high school. We mutually benefited." Though as I say it, I definitely benefited more than she did.

"No way." Gavin shakes his head.

"It's true. We have rules and everything." I grab my wallet off my desk and pull out the yellow slip of rules I've been carrying around since the beginning.

"This is nuts." He studies the paper for a while before handing it back. "I don't believe you."

I roll my eyes. "Ainsley, tell him."

"No, I mean I get that you arranged a fake relationship, but listen, I've never seen you so head over heels for a girl. Nothing about what you two had was fake."

Ainsley tugs on my arm, but I ignore her. "Sorry to disappoint you, but even the breakup was planned from the get-go."

She tugs again. "What?" When I turn to look, she's pointing at the digital clock on my dresser. Shit. They make rounds in five minutes!

I grab my thickest sweater and toss it to Ainsley. "Let me get you back to your room."

"When will you be back?" Gavin asks while I climb out the window. The hair on my arms stands on end as I open the window. I reach out, pressing my foot firmly onto the stone ledge. Slippery. Too slippery. "Ainsley, how did you survive this?"

"It wasn't slippery until I got past the lounge, then it was too far for me to turn back. So I guess I almost didn't?"

God, she really is my sister. "I can't let you back out there."

"James." Gavin yanks his pedal board out from under his bed. "Coach Davvy may look under your bed from time to time, but he'd never suspect me."

"You're right. Ainsley, you're little. You'll fit fine."

"Are you serious?" she squeaks while dropping to her stomach to wiggle under the bed. Gavin replaces his pedal board, the edge of it only sticking out a few inches farther than normal. "This is absurd."

"Be quiet. Not another word. Davvy sometimes drops in a few minutes early for fun."

"I've got the lights." Gavin flicks off the overhead light and turns on our desk lamps. He snatches up his guitar and sits on the edge of his bed. I toss on my noise-blocking headphones, pulling up Snapchat on my phone.

Coach Davvy pops his head in three minutes later, checking thoroughly under my bed and in my closet. "Quick curfew check," he explains.

"No problem."

When he closes the door, a bead of sweat drops down the back of my neck. "That was too close."

Gavin gives Ainsley a hand off the floor. "What are we going to do? Oh my God." She squeezes her eyes tight. "They're going to know I missed curfew."

"Yeah." Gavin nudges the board. "I thought of that."

"Not being in your room isn't enough to get you expelled," I offer.

"Is that our only goal now?" There's a desperate edge of frustration in her voice, and I can't help but look at her differently. Sure, if I get caught with her in here, I'll end up living with Dad with a laptop as my classroom. But if Ainsley is discovered, social services will transfer her to a different home placement.

And she risked all this for me.

"I'm going to get you out of this, Ainsley. I promise you." I reach for my phone, texting Julie before Ainsley can say no. "We need help. As far as I remember, it doesn't say anything about brothers and sisters hanging out in each other's rooms."

Ainsley leans on the edge of my bed. "Gavin? You never saw us. You were sleeping. That's the story. Do you understand?"

Three seconds later, Julie replies. Are you hurt? Where are you?

We aren't hurt, but I'm in trouble, and Ainsley came to give me a heads-up through the window. Then the ledge froze, and now she'll break her neck if she goes back out that way. We're both stuck in my dorm room—something she has NEVER done before. I wouldn't normally ask for help, but I can't let Ainsley get expelled from Brockmore over a stupid rule she broke to help me out.

I suck in a breath, praying she'll pull through.

Give me ten minutes.

"Edelweiss must really like you," Gavin says while we wait. "To let Emma blackmail her is a pretty epic love note." He pauses, and his mouth drops open. I know that look. That's his eureka moment. I sigh, picking up his guitar and handing it over so he can get to work.

He's halfway through recording the verse into his phone when the fire alarm rings. "Are you kidding me?"

This is the best exit I can give you. Make it work. Julie texts a moment later.

"In this weather?" Gavin jumps up and grabs his robe. "You two both owe me. God, I hate the snow."

"Go ahead of us."

He nods, stepping out of the room. "See you in the morning?"

"Sure thing," I add, even though I know I'll never sleep another night within Brockmore.

"Can you walk like a dude?" I grab the hood on the back of Ainsley's sweatshirt and pull it over her hair. I take a step back, looking her over. My sweatshirt's big enough to hide any of her curves, and I think if she keeps to herself she'll be able to sneak out of the dormitory in the chaos.

"You mean like you have a constant wedgie?" She shuffles her feet around, and I hate to admit it, but she nails the walk.

"That'll do." I open the door. "Keep your chin down, yawn a lot and act pissed off. I'll be right behind you."

She steps out, and I follow close behind. One by one the doors open, and guys walk out swearing a mouthful on the way to the emergency exit. We follow them down the stairway and out into the snow.

The frigid wetness shimmies into my socks through my sneakers.

"Go," I whisper when we get close enough to the pack of girls.

Ainsley moves over a few steps and picks up her chin, yelling out for Charlotte to notice her. A wave of relief washes over my shoulders seeing she's safe. She's smart enough to come up with an excuse of getting stuck in the bathroom with a stomachache or some nonsense like that.

I report to Coach Davvy, and after five minutes of shivering Julie's voice breaks through the microphone. "Thank you for all of your cooperation during our annual winter fire drill. Due to the weather, we will be making this drill shorter than our normal twenty-minute lockout. Please walk into the building carefully. They will do room checks in seven minutes, so make sure you all return to the correct dormitory."

A few guys snicker, ogling the girls who ended up outside in skimpy pajamas.

I glance over the crowd, trying to find Edelweiss, but almost all the girls are wearing hats or hoodies, making it impossible to spot that bright blond hair.

Creighton waits for me inside the school. "Thank you." I reach out, squeezing her arm. "Can we talk in your office?"

"Right now?" she asks, unlocking the door to the admin offices.

"It can't wait until morning." I follow her in and down the hall.

"This better be good, James."

"Julie, this is the worst thing I ever could have done."

"Oh no." She shakes her head, her eyes losing the normal sparkle she has when looking at me. "Don't tell me you stole the midterm, James Matthew. Please, God." She closes her eyes tight. "I am giving you permission not to tell me the truth," she whispers.

With four words, I seal my fate. "I stole the exam."
Chapter Twenty-Three

Edelweiss

The golden haze from the sunrise floats behind the fog. I gently pull my fingers back from the blinds, hoping the way they brush won't wake Tuti. She refused to go to bed unless I promised her I wouldn't turn myself in.

For the first time in my life, it was easy to lie.

With my iPad clutched to my chest, I tiptoe out of the room and through the wing of the dorms. While Brockmore sleeps, I slip away into one of the study alcoves and take a seat on the floor to Skype my parents.

"Are you okay?" Dad answers the call. "It's five thirty in the morning for you."

"Is Mom around?"

"Oh. Is this a girl sort of matter?"

"No. I need to talk to both of you."

He must recognize the seriousness in my face, because he leaves the computer screen and in the background I can hear him turning off Mom's exercise DVD.

"What's going on, babe?" Mom asks before she even takes her seat. When she appears on screen, she's dripping in sweat and her hair is tied up with her old scrunchie.

"You guys once told me that if I'm ever in trouble, you want to hear the news from me first."

Dad presses his lips into a thin, red line, and Mom looks to him with a keep your mouth shut type of expression. It's not hard to imagine her kicking him under the table.

"Right," I continue. "Anyway, I got in over my head here at Brockmore." I can't even look at them while I say it. "Everything started out on the wrong foot, and I tried to correct it with lies...which lead to blackmail."

"Blackmail?" Dad leans into the screen. "Tell us everything, Edelweiss. At once."

So I do. I tell them about pretending to date James, Emma's bullying, and how I stole the exam to keep James out of trouble. Speaking the truth lifts a dreadful weight off my neck.

In only a few hours, I'll be free of this nightmare.

"I'm going to turn myself in this morning," I finally say. "You should be expecting a call from the headmistress sometime in the next hour or two."

"Wait." Mom holds up her hand.

"Stop." I suck in a deep breath, trying to keep a sob at bay. "I know I disappointed you, and I'm so sorry. I wanted to show you I was living, make some headway on that ridiculous list. If I had a boyfriend, then you guys would think I was fitting in here."

"That's why you concocted a fake relationship with James?" Dad asks.

Mom rubs her temples. "This all backfired. Baby, we just wanted you to enjoy yourself. Dating is not a requirement of a successful high school experience. I should have never teased you and written that in your book. Sometimes I forget that you're not me, honey. My first heartbreak prepared me for my second, which rocked my world in college."

Dad rests his hand on Mom's shoulder. "But then I came along."

"Yes." Mom dabs at the dampness under her eyes. "But to assume that Edelweiss would live my life? I'm sorry I interfered. You never know. Maybe James is your real deal like your father was mine."

"Honey, she confessed her relationship was fake."

"Fake? Darling, can't you see that your daughter loves him?"

Loves him. There's that word again. The truth of her words tastes terrifying. I do love him. Every cell in my body and fiber of my soul loves him. Needs him.

And it blows.

Dad's jaw dangles open, and Mom pats him on the back. "Don't worry. I'll explain it to you later."

"I don't know what to do. He..." I sigh. "It doesn't matter. Once I turn myself in—and I have to turn myself in?"

Both of them nod firmly.

"Once I turn myself in, it's all over."

"Love always finds a way. Believe it." Mom reaches out toward the screen. If she were here, without a doubt she'd wrap me in her arms for a long hug.

But she's not here, so I shrug. "So now you know." A scrape of the front door makes my throat swell. "That may be the headmistress. I should go."

"Edelweiss, even though we are disappointed that you stole an exam, we couldn't be prouder of who you have become." Mom smiles. "You're handling this like a true adult."

"Does being an adult feel like crap?" I mutter.

"Another conversation for another day." Mom blows the screen a kiss.

"We'll have lots of time for it once I fly back to Monaco."

Dad leans forward and speaks with delicate intension. "Babe, visualize where you want this story to end, not where you fear it will go."

"I will, Dad. Thank you." I end the call and take a deep breath, embracing his advice to picture the life I want.

What do I want?

James, laughing and holding my hand. I picture us at a dining table with Tuti, Jordan, Ainsley, Charlotte, and Gavin. Then I picture his lips brushing up against my own.

My soul aches with how desperately I want to stay at Brockmore.

With a little prayer, I peel myself off the carpet and walk straight to the already-lit office. "Edelweiss?" The front-desk secretary lifts a brow. "What can we do for you, honey?"

"I need to speak with Headmistress Creighton."

Her eyes widen, likely suspicious of the correlation between my early arrival and the stolen exam. She picks up the phone. "Yes, Edelweiss Lee is here to see you."

A second later the oak door in the back corner opens, and Headmistress Creighton steps out in a navy-blue power suit and white high heels. "Come on in, Edelweiss."

It's the first time I've stepped into her office since Dad signed my contract with Brockmore. At the time, the walls felt endless and the space filled with promises. But right now, as I take my seat, the woodwork seems to mock me, closing in like a collapsing tent.

"It's not often a student seeks me out at six in the morning." Headmistress Creighton folds her hands gently on her desk after taking her seat. "How can I help you?"

"The exam—"

"Oh, honey." She cocks her head to the side. "You really do care for him, don't you?"

"Excuse me?"

She grins softly. "I knew I liked you for a reason."

Why on earth is she smiling? "I'm sorry, I'm a bit confused, ma'am."

"You're here to tell me that James stole the exam, correct? Turn him in so he can become a better man?"

"James?" I jump to my feet. It's high time she understands that James is a great guy. "Why would you assume James would do something like that? He loves Brockmore and would never flirt with academic dishonesty."

"Really?" She shifts back in her seat, studying me.

"Listen, he told me about his bad track record, but believe me, he's changed. Don't link his name to that stolen exam."

"Then who took it?" Her rosewood eyes pierce my own, and there's a second where I swear there's a little flash of gold.

"I took it, ma'am." There's no use telling her about Emma, because the bottom line is that I messed up. I refuse to walk through life blaming my choices on someone else.

Her arms cross. "How many students saw the questions before the test?"

"As far as my knowledge goes, only one that doesn't include me. I didn't read the questions though. Not that it matters."

"Why'd you do it? To get James to notice you after he dumped you?" she offers.

"Yes." My mouth runs dry. "Well, no. Not exactly. It's complicated."

"Edelweiss, this is a very serious thing to confess." She stands up and paces behind her desk.

"I'm well aware."

"You'll have to wait in the office!" The secretary's voice echoes down the hall as Creighton's office door is yanked open. Charlotte barrels through in her pajamas, pulling in Emma behind her with both Ainsley and Tuti bringing up the rear.

"Oh my God," I whisper.

"Excuse me, ladies. We are having a conversation," Creighton says.

"But you don't know all the details!" Tuti nudges Emma. "Either you tell her, or I will."

Ainsley opens her laptop and places it on Creighton's desk. "I was able to trace the IP address from your post."

Emma turns on the waterworks, gazing out of the window. "I was jealous of James liking Edelweiss, so I blackmailed her into stealing the exam for me. I wanted her to get caught."

"You what?" Headmistress Creighton returns to her chair and takes a deep breath. "Okay, you two. Sit." She points between Emma and me and the chairs in front of her desk. "And you three?" She nods toward a seating area in the corner where I imagine she has tea with prospective parents. "Sit." Once Tuti, Ainsley, and Charlotte retreat, the headmistress leans in and glares at Emma. "What did you blackmail her with?"

"With this." Emma, now away from Charlotte and Ainsley, reaches into her bra and takes out her phone.

Charlotte hisses from the corner. "You deleted it in front of us, you brat! You had another copy in that thing?" She knocks the back of her head against the wall. "God, Emma. You are worse than a snake."

"No more words from any of you. I'll take the photo now, Emma."

Emma slides the phone across the desk and within moments the headmistress's eyebrows lift. "Is that your window, Edelweiss?"

"Yes, but I had no idea he was there. He never came in."

Please don't ask any of us if he has ever been in a girls' room before. Please, don't make them lie for me.

Her eyes flicker to Ainsley, then back to the photo and Emma.

"Did James enter the window, Ms. Brown?" The two look at each other for a full minute before Emma drops her head to study the paperweight on the table.

"No." Emma presses her hand onto the desk. "He did not. He immediately climbed back down."

"And you thought using this photo would get them both expelled? Is that really what you want?"

Emma moves her head a millimeter to the left, squeezing her eyes shut.

"Well." The headmistress leans back in her chair. "You ladies have offered plenty of enlightenment this morning. First, I need to figure out who actually stole this exam."

"I did, ma'am." I scoot forward in my chair. "I called my parents this morning, and I'm prepared for the consequences."

"A consequence that would be easy for me to deliver if someone else hadn't already confessed to the crime."

Who would do such a thing?

"Edelweiss, if you could remain in my office please." Creighton stands up. "To the rest of you girls, I'd appreciate it if you spent the next hour talking some things out with our school counselor. Emma, how about you swing by my office after breakfast this morning?"

"Yes, ma'am."

Creighton walks the girls out of the office, leaving me alone in the room for forty-five minutes. Forty-five minutes of studying the golden ceiling tile and the carvings in the woodwork hugging the doorframe. Forty-five minutes to memorize the smell of Brockmore. Cedar. Old books. And mint.

It's easier to breathe with all of the lies off my chest. The fog in my head has lifted. Clarity is easy to find when you've laid it all out on the table. Terrifying, yes, but clear.

Not a shred of my body regrets my decision to be James's fake girlfriend. Yes, it led me into a level of drama I thought people only joked about, but it led me to him. And I'll take any piece—even if it's only being his ex-girlfriend for the rest of eternity—if it means he is part of my story.

No matter what happens, I can't feel bad for myself. I have real friends, ones who tried to save me. Rushed in when I needed them most. God, I'll miss them so much.

When the door opens, I'm in such a better place. A calm has replaced the restlessness in my heart. I don't even have to look up to know he's here. Every inch of my skin warms when that extra pair of footsteps enters the room.

"You two need to talk." Creighton leans up on the desk while James takes the seat next to me. He smells of oranges and sandalwood, fresh out of the shower. Pretty sure I smell like salt and worry.

"Hey," he says.

"Edelweiss, meet the guy who confessed to stealing the test."

My jaw drops. "You did not."

"So who's protecting whom?" She rubs her eyes. "Listen, I've been up all night worrying about losing James."

"Losing James?" An odd thing for a headmistress to say. I glance between them, too tired to mask my curiosity.

James grunts. "Edelweiss, please meet my aunt."

His aunt? I spin around, facing him down. "How could you not tell me that until now?"

"There are a lot of things I haven't been honest with you about." The words slice through me like a knife through butter.

"Hey, now." Creighton taps the desk to get our attention. "Focus here. What's going on?"

"I stole the exam, ma'am. James had nothing to do with it."

"Is this true, son?"

Those deep, brown eyes—oh duh, no wonder the headmistress has some gold in her eyes—find my own. He looks at me like I'm sunshine and clear skies. "I promised to protect you, Edelweiss."

"By getting yourself expelled? Why would you do that, after everything we did to convince your father you'd changed?"

"Oh heaven, help me. How deep do these lies go?" she asks.

James shifts forward in his chair, his leg bouncing under the desk. "We pretended to date to keep Dad from yanking me out of Brockmore."

The way he says it is so matter of fact. So flat. To him it was nothing but a business arrangement, so I do my best to keep my voice steady. "It was temporary. Still, I got to know James and respect him. What Emma was going to do was wrong, and I couldn't let that happen to him."

"So did you or did you not steal the exam, James?"

James gazes at me. "The lines blurred. It's hard to figure out what's fake and what's real anymore."

"Okay." She hops off the desk. "That's enough. James Matthew, you can unpack your bags. Obviously, you didn't steal the exam, and I won't be calling your father about Emma's photo. I checked Brockmore's bylaws and to my astonishment, there is no official rule about climbing the walls of Brockmore or looking in a window. Of course, this will be revised immediately. As the headmistress, I'm gravely disappointed in you. But as your aunt? Congratulations. You're a pioneer." Her voice is deadpan through the entire speech, but the way James jumps up and pulls her into a hug, it's obviously full of love.

"And Edel?" he asks. "The fact she only took the exam to protect me has to count for something." His eyes are bright, far too full of hope for what he knows must be coming.

This isn't a battle worth fighting. Right now only one of us walks away wounded, and I'm okay with that. I look to Creighton. "I messed up, and I understand the punishment."

"It's probably best you go." His aunt—not the headmistress—embraces him. "I picked out your tuxedo for the dance tomorrow night. Want to swing by and have dinner tonight when you grab it? We still have a lot to discuss."

"Be easy on her, Julie. Please." He squeezes her shoulders firmly before he leaves the office. On his way out his eyes catch mine, but I immediately glance away. I may have done this for him, but that doesn't make it easy.

"Again, headmistress, I am sorry."

"I know." She folds her hands on her desk. "Did you really already call your folks about this and confess?"

"Every word."

"Not many kids would do that. Usually students do everything they can to keep their parents from learning about their mistakes."

"My parents are a little different, so it makes it easier. They're forgiving of mistakes."

"Is that why you thought it would be okay to take the exam? You assumed Brockmore would forgive you?"

She's giving me an out, an opportunity to play the "I didn't understand how Brockmore worked" card, but there's a warm centering in my chest that I can't ignore. The only way to face this is with honesty. "No." I shake my head. "I knew taking the exam landed me in an expulsion category. I didn't come here asking for forgiveness."

"Well..." Her lips settle into a steady grin. "Maybe you should." When I don't answer, she laughs. Actually laughs. "The bylaws do have another clause, and thankfully no student reads them too closely. The clause allows me as headmistress the final judgment in regard to whether a student will be expelled."

"Wait." I grab the armrests of the chair for support. "So I'm not being expelled?"

"Edelweiss, I'm not the type of leader who would kick out an honest, courageous kid. Kids like you are what make Brockmore great."

Her words are like tossing sugar on a campfire. I nearly jump out of my chair, wanting to hug her, but the lift in her eyebrow makes me stop.

"This morning at breakfast I will announce that the guilty party has been dealt with and no further details shall be made known. This conversation though? It stays between you and me. If I hear that it's leaked, I'll know the source."

"I understand."

"I cannot have the student body thinking these rules are gray rather than black and white."

"Yes, ma'am. Thank you so much."

"Your entire class will have to retake the exam, and you will receive a zero."

My chest shakes a little, but a quick calculation means my grade will only be slammed down to a B-minus. Survivable.

She continues. "I expect you to serve detention for the rest of the semester and the entirety of next semester as Ms. Jennison's student service worker, every evening for two hours. She was shocked, and you owe her an apology. She did, however, say you are her best student. You'll help her with tutoring."

"I'll do whatever it takes, headmistress." Second chances taste sweet. I scoot to the edge of my seat, my legs dancing.

She notices, opening her office door. "You may be excused, Edelweiss."

"Thank you, ma'am." It's easy to float out of the room when my life has just been handed back to me. I'll never let anyone have the upper hand on me again, that's for sure. I check in at the secretary's desk to find out Ainsley, Tuti, and Charlotte were excused from the school counselor half an hour ago. When I throw open the door, I'm taken aback by how empty the hallway is. How still. A reminder of how my world turned over while 97 percent of the student body slept.

"It's a bit creepy before school hours, isn't it?" James scrapes himself off the floor by the door. The door behind me swings closed with such vigor that I know there's no way I didn't whack him when I threw it open.

"Don't sweat it," he answers before I can even ask if he is okay. "I'm fine."

"You waited."

He nods. "I wanted to tell you why I was outside your window."
Chapter Twenty-Four

James

"James?" She steps away from me.

Her baby-blue eyes catch mine and for an instant I try to pour into her how sorry I am for how I've mislead her, all through one glance.

Then she shrugs. "It doesn't matter to me why you were on the wall."

The nonchalant move is like a cut. She used to be so open toward me, and now she's guarded. And it's all my fault. "I'd want to know why someone was looking in my window. Why don't you want to know?"

"You're not the type of guy who would be there if he didn't have a good reason."

"I was checking to make sure you were all right."

She exhales sharply as she crosses to the other side of the hallway, folding herself against the wall. "And was I?"

"You seemed to be. Didn't know you and Tuti were the type to hang naked posters of guys in your room."

Her brow folds in and—help me—she looks adorably confused. "Oh," she groans. "Charlotte. It was her brilliant idea to help me."

"Help you?"

"I found it harder than I anticipated to be without you." She presses her hand against one of the columns and gazes up at the stone archway over our heads. "Turns out you are a cornerstone."

"Edelweiss." I take a few steps toward her, but when I do, she shifts farther away.

"It's okay, James. Really. Thank you for taking the blame for the test."

"It's all my fault."

"Don't say that. It was my decision to steal the test and—to be honest—I wouldn't change it. I thought if Creighton got ahold of that image or if Emma posted it publicly, your dad would have transferred you."

"You saved me."

"Yeah, well." She glances back up at the archway. "Brockmore isn't Brockmore without you. The walls would have come tumbling down."

"You're wrong, Edelweiss."

"Trust me on this one." She swings her messenger bag over her shoulder. "See you around, I guess."

Watching her walk away kills me. Everything is wrong. This is when I should be holding her close, feeling her breath on my cheek while I bend down to whisper how much I love her. Desperation launches me forward. "Edelweiss?" My voice echoes down the empty hallway. "Will you go to the dance with me?"

When she turns around, her expression is soft but too kind. The rejection stings before the words fall from her mouth. "James, please don't."

"What?"

"You don't have to ask me to the dance to thank me."

As we climb the grand stairway, I reach out and touch the silky skin on the inside of her wrist. When she doesn't pull away, I claim it as a victory. "Do you already have a date?"

"No, but I'd rather not be asked than go as a pity date."

"You'll never be anyone's pity date, Edelweiss." I brush against her shoulder. "And that's not why I'm asking you. Maybe we can go as friends?"

"Friends?" She punches in the code to her dorm. "James, don't waste the winter formal on me, not when there are so many girls you've been eyeing the last six weeks."

"Hey, I..." The words slam into the back of my throat. "That meant nothing."

"Just old habit?" That's a hard edge in her eyes, one I don't dare try to challenge right now.

Obviously, I hurt her, and that knowledge cuts deep. I nod, stepping back and allowing her to pass into the girls' dorm. There's a long way to go before I can even come close to winning her back, but I'll do whatever it takes for her to trust me again.

I take a deep breath, wandering back down the stairs. To win her back? Well, my arsenal is empty, and somehow I doubt Creighton is going to be up to hearing me out. I tug out my phone and call the one guy who knows me best.

"Dad?" I say the moment he answers. "You awake?"

He chuckles. "Of course I'm awake. I think it'd be a bit more appropriate for me to be asking you that question, don't you? Isn't it a Saturday morning?"

Normally I'd make some snide remark about how I'm always up early on Saturdays for practice, and on the days we don't have practice I'm still hitting the gym by six thirty a.m. But instead, defeating words tumble out. "I guess so."

"What's wrong?"

"Dad. You don't want to hear this, but I screwed up everything with Edel."

There's a long silence before he answers. "Is she pregnant?"

"No. Nothing like that."

"Thank God." He exhales into the phone. There's another long pause, and the space makes me antsy. "How about you talk, and I'll listen until you're done?"

"Okay." I spill out all the facts. How our relationship was fake, and why it was fake. I pace back and forth down the hallway while I confess that I did it to convince him I was serious about staying at Brockmore, and how I'm sorry for being so ignorant as to think a fake girlfriend would fix me.

"Son," he says when I'm finally done. "You know you could drop out of high school, get a girl pregnant, and work at a gas station, and I would always love you, right? I'm so sorry that you felt like you needed to be fake to gain my approval."

My eyes sting, and I cough, studying the cracks in the aging Sheetrock.

"You still like Edelweiss." It's not a question.

"Yes, sir."

"Listen close, James Matthew. After your mother's death, I always worried that I wouldn't be enough for you." He takes a deep breath. "So much so that when you hit your teenage years, I thought you needed a motherly influence in a way I didn't think I could provide, so I convinced myself you'd be best in Julie's hands at Brockmore. Today I understand that I'm wrong. I shouldn't have doubted that and sent you away to Brockmore. My love is enough, son. Let that knowledge be your firm foundation so you can look at Edelweiss and not doubt whether or not you deserve her love, because James, you are loved by me through your core."

It's pretty much impossible to see through my wet eyes. Eventually, I cough out a "Thanks, Dad."

"So," his voice is lighter, changing the tone. "Lucky for you, I messed up royally with your mother at the beginning of our relationship yet still managed to win her over. Tell me where you're at with her, and we'll hash out a plan to get you back in the game."

"Dad." I wipe away the dampness below my eyelids. "You're the best."

"We'll figure this out together."
Chapter Twenty-Five

Edelweiss

For the last week, James has somehow managed to work himself back into my life. The first day, he walked me to a class. On Tuesday, he took the table next to mine in the library, eventually shifting over to join me. Ever so slowly, he's eased himself back into a miniature, more distant version of our old routine.

And it sucks. My heart is constantly aching when he's not around, and when he is, it's just a painful reminder of what we're not.

Last night, when we walked back from the library, I almost told him how I felt. My heart felt like it would burst if I didn't let out my secret. The pain of losing him felt more tolerable than the ache of longing to be with him.

Thankfully, he saved us both. He must have sensed it coming, because the moment I opened my mouth he made an excuse that Gavin needed some help with his final lit essay and had to get back to his room.

I scroll through his most recent texts when he asks my opinion about the nominees for next year's football captain.

Yup. Definitely friend-zoned.

I must have sighed, because Tuti hops off her bed. "That's it," she says. "I've had enough. It's time for you to start living again." She grabs my journal and tosses it toward me. "What else does it say on that list of yours?"

Oh God. Not this thing. I throw it right in the trash.

"Fine." She snatches it out of my trash bin and dares to open it. I shrug. Whatever. There's nothing in there that's more humiliating than what I've already endured.

"Girl, how did you even come up with sixty-two things to do before going to college? And look, you've only checked off half of them. We need to do something about that." She glances through the pages once again. "There. Number eighteen: go to a dance in a beautiful dress." Tuti rolls her eyes. "And you claim you don't want to go to the winter formal tonight?"

"Tuti, I'm not up to it."

"Doesn't matter." Tuti pulls out her own silver, flowing gown from the garment bag in her closet. "After all this moping around—yes, moping—you owe me. I will not let you miss this, and I don't care if you are dateless, you're going."

"Says the girl who doesn't have to walk into the ballroom alone. Even Ainsley is going with Gavin, and Charlotte's going with..." Actually, I have no idea who Charlotte decided to pair up with—evidence that I've been too stuffed into my own drama. It's time for this to change. I need to learn to be an amazing friend like these girls are for me.

"Oliver." Tuti brushes out her hair for the one-hundredth time. It's sleek, straight, and gorgeous. "He's president of the drama club. They aren't serious, just friends."

"Well, are you excited to go on a real date with Jordan?" Because whatever that is, it's serious, even if it hasn't played out past a look.

She sticks out her tongue at me instead of answering. I love how her playfulness makes the room feel like a playground. "Where's your dress?"

"I don't have one." I plunge my hands into my Brockmore hoodie.

"Why not? A formal gown was listed on the school supplies."

"We didn't want to go overweight on my luggage, and I figured if I was asked to the Winter Ball I'd buy one."

"I still can't believe he hasn't asked you yet."

My tongue stings as I nip it with my teeth, not wanting to tell her the truth. "Maybe he's already asked someone else?"

"Well, forget him then." She plucks through a few items in my closet, tugging out my favorite sundress. "Nope. This won't do."

"Tuti, I'm not going."

"All of us are going with friends anyway. What will it take to get you to go?"

"A date and a dress."

She taps her desk while she thinks. "What if Jordan takes both of us?"

"No." I flop down onto my bed. Being a third wheel is not my style. I'd rather take another English final.

"Yes. People do this all the time. Jordan will be thrilled to have you tag along."

Doubtful.

"There, message sent." She props her phone up while she presses out her gown. Not even a full minute passes before he responds. "He's in."

"Tuti, I'd rather go to the ball alone than as a third wheel."

"Then come alone! Please. Tomorrow's our last night on campus together before I have to fly back to Washington for a month and you go visit your parents in Monaco."

"We can Skype."

"Please, Edelweiss." She pulls me to my feet. "I won't have any fun knowing you're binge-watching Gilmore Girls and cheering for Rory to get together with Logan when we all know she should end up with Jess."

"Ugh. Jess is so not her type. Why can't you see that?"

"Please. I'm serious. I want you there." She squeezes my hands. "You've had a ridiculous semester. Let's end it on a high note. I need you there." Her cheeks flush. "Be my wing girl, okay?"

There's an urgency in her brown doe eyes that I can't say no to. She's done so much for me this semester. If I said no, I'd be the worst friend in the world. "Fine."

"Fine?"

"If you need me, I'm there."

"Well, thank God, because..." She gets down on her hands and knees and pulls out a giant box from under my bed. One I didn't put there. "I may have snooped through your closet a few days ago and—rightfully—grew concerned at your lack of gown."

"What did you do?"

She tugs off the lid of the box and unwraps the tissue paper. Inside there's a blue gown with a scooping sweetheart neck. "Charlotte guessed your size, and we ordered it online. Don't worry about the price. It's my gift to you."

I carefully take the dress out, pressing it to my form. The baby-blue fabric flows down and the hem flutters against the floor. It's absolutely gorgeous. "It's totally my style. I love it."

"We forgot to order shoes, though."

"My ballet flats will work fine with this." The gown will cover up my feet anyway. "Thank you, Tuti. This means the world to me."

"See. I wasn't kidding about how much I want you there. Now, if you would only stop hiding in our room and start wandering the halls, I bet you anything James will ask you out."

"If he really wanted to ask me, he would have this afternoon when he walked me to my world lit final." I know I shouldn't have been disappointed, especially since he asked me a week ago, but every time James is near, my heart races and my palms itch, hoping to hold his hand. The fact he didn't ask proves that he only asked the first time out of guilt.

"He walked you to class? Edelweiss, wake up! I've known James for almost three years now, and I can guarantee he's never tried this hard to get a girl."

"That's because they chase him."

"He likes you."

No. He's antsy every time he's near me, and when he speaks, it's almost like he's struggling to tolerate me. "Jordan likes you, too." There's a topic change she won't be able to handle.

She tosses her hands in the air. "Who has time for boyfriends anyway? Did you know that the moment you get a boyfriend you lose subscribers? And these are female subscribers! Not an option for me. My channel supports my tuition at Brockmore and every subscriber counts. If I want to stay out from under my parents' noses, then I need to work. Come on. Let's try on your dress and figure out what way to take your makeup tonight."

...

A promise is a promise, and I won't let Tuti down.

I glance over the rail down three floors to the atrium below. The event planners the council hired held to their promise to make everything delicate, warm, and gorgeous. LED candles and white roses decorate the grand stairway, leading the way into the ballroom, transforming Brockmore into an enchanted castle.

Creighton must have had a huge budget for this formal for decoration, photography, and gourmet catering: steak, chicken, and a vegan risotto. It seems way over the top for high school, but in student council, she mentioned it's essential to appease parents who expect Brockmore to represent a "higher society."

I hid in my room until I was sure all the students had descended the grand stairway. Going to a dance alone is one thing, but walking down for the couples' photos is a bit more torture than I'm willing to inflict on my psyche.

The two photographers wander among the crowd of students below. Their umbrella lights are turned off at the base of the stairway and now they snap candid group photos while they wait for the ballroom doors to open. Beautiful corsages and boutonnieres pepper everyone's formal attire, except for my girls. They took a different route, wearing a piece of jewelry that starts on their left wrists and spirals up their forearms to their elbows with small beaded flowers speckling the chain to match their gowns. Ainsley's flowers are a deep green, matching the green ombré top of her gown; Charlotte's pale-pink flowers are a gentle complement to the blushed slinky number she's using to highlight those killer hips; and Tuti's silver gown makes the white flowers on her forearm pop.

My arm is notably bare. I rub my skin. Now this is a challenge I never wrote down on that damn list. Staring down at my arm and swallowing the fact that I'll be the only girl at the dance without a date and a corsage feels like I'm asking myself to climb Mount Everest.

A small part of me screams to abandon ship. But if traveling the world and being a student at Brockmore have taught me anything, it's how to shake things off.

My friends bought me a gown. I have friends. Real friends who look after me. Sitting in my room would be refusing to live. Yes, James may be in some corner wrapped up in a girl, but letting that drive me back into my room would be cowardly.

And I was raised to be strong.

My phone vibrates in my clutch, a text from Tuti. Are you coming?

Wouldn't waste the beautiful dress you bought. Be down soon.

Gear up, Edelweiss. Climb the mountain and shut up.

I take a deep breath and force myself down the side stairs that lead to the top of the grand stairway.

Still, my heart thumps with each step. Take your shoulders away from your ears. Breathe. But when I reach the landing of the grand stairway, not a head even shifts in my direction, because at that exact second the doors to the ballroom are whisked open and the sea of students below drift into the Winter Ball. Perfect timing. I glide my hand down the rail while I skip down the steps as fast as possible, my footsteps pattering on the marble floor.

"Do you want your picture taken for the blog, miss?" A photographer in the corner of the room calls out. "I haven't moved my lights into the ballroom yet," he explains. "I can just flick one on and get a quick shot if you want to grab your partner."

"No, thank you."

"Are you sure? We're contracted to get photos of all the students up on the Brockmore blog in their formal wear."

"Maybe you can hit me up on the dance floor with my friends?"

A bead of sweat forms on his guy's temple, and his cheeks suddenly flush deep red. That's right. I'm single.

"Absolutely. I'll make sure to snag one with your friends later."

"Thank you." And I thought I'd only have to deal with my own embarrassment of being dateless. I force myself to keep my head high as I walk into the ballroom, for both of our sakes, but I don't even make it through the doors without being struck silly by the gorgeousness of the space that's always locked to students.

Beautiful blue-and-golden wallpaper wraps up the walls. The floor-to-ceiling windows are draped in gold. On the tour Mom thought the three chandeliers were a bit much, but with them lit and the popping flames in the fireplaces on mirroring walls, they give off the warmest, golden glow. In all its grandeur, somehow the room doesn't feel overdone. More like the room is an entity on its own. Grand yet somehow delicate and warm. Absolutely breathtaking.

"Welcome to the one hundredth and twenty-second Brockmore Winter Ball." Headmistress Creighton speaks into the microphone in the middle of the dance floor, dressed in a lavender gown. "What a magical evening this is, and, may I say, you all clean up quite lovely." A light, nervous laughter bubbles through the crowd. "Per tradition, we will open with a waltz before we share our meal."

A coupled waltz? They did not explicitly outline this in the student handbook. Burning panic swirls through my heart. I figured I'd just avoid the dance floor during slow dances, then blend in when the music picked up. Okay, maybe if I take a seat at one of the back tables in the shadows, I'll survive this without being noticed.

The lead violinist of the string quartet in the corner nods, and the group pulls their bows across the strings to make a warm, upbeat tune resonate through the room.

One, two, three. One, two, three. One, two, three.

Jordan leads Tuti onto the dance floor, and they step into the rhythm like they're professionals. Only the freshmen seem to fumble their steps a bit.

Then, just beyond the dancers on the other side of the room, I see him. His tuxedo hugs his shoulders just right. He looks so good I could melt. Where is his date?

He smiles at me, and with one grin he unwinds all the knots in my back. I shrug effortlessly, smiling back, hoping he'll come over to me. It takes him less than ten seconds to reach my side.

"Hey." I nudge his dress shoe with my toe.

He tucks a hand in his pocket and glances out at the dance floor. Out from his pocket he pulls a box, opening it to reveal a slight chain with beads of baby-blue flowers. The same style of jewelry that Tuti, Ainsley, and Charlotte are all wearing wrapped up their arm.

This. Was. Planned. My mouth runs dry as I gaze down at the black box.

The hardwood floor creaks as he shifts. "May I have this dance?"

I study him for a beat, wondering if this is worth the pain that may follow. But there's something about him that's been so constant and good. There's no way I can say no again. "Yes," I whisper.

He removes the chain, linking its ends around my wrist in a bracelet and twisting the chain up my arm to fasten it just over my elbow.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome." His warm hand squeezes mine, and somehow my feet carry me forward and fall into the rhythm of the dance effortlessly, allowing him to lead.

"You're good at this." Firelight sparkles in his chocolate eyes.

"I'm the daughter of a diplomat. Waltzing comes with the territory."

"Lucky you," he whispers. "We're all put through ballroom boot camp as freshmen and sophomores. They fly in this dame from Russia who claps while she shouts at us for an entire weekend until we master each dance. Training future presidents for the inaugural ball, I guess. Speaking of which, did you know these chandeliers are made by the same craftsman who created the ones in the White House?"

I crack a smile while he rambles on. This is new for him. What exactly is going on?

He spins me, and as he does his hand shifts just a tad, so it rests more on my lower back than hip. The quartet slows its beat, ending on one gentle note. Applause breaks out from the room, but James doesn't let go. "Edelweiss," he whispers. "You are so beautiful."

A summery heat flushes my cheeks even though snowflakes fall just beyond the window. The fabric of his tuxedo is taut on his shoulders, a slim fit that makes him look more stunning than any red-carpet photo. "You make the tux look good."

He leans in. "No, you make me look good. You've always made me look good. That's the problem."

"The problem?"

"What a lovely dance!" Creighton's voice chimes over a new piece that the quartet started in the corner. "Please find your tables."

"Can we..." He looks over his shoulder at one of the doors that leads onto the patio. "Can we go outside to talk?"

Last I checked it was fifteen degrees and snowing, but right now I'd follow him anywhere. "Sure."

He holds open the door for me, and as I slip past him my breath floats upward in a white puff. The air snaps at my exposed shoulders.

"Take my coat." James is already holding it open, allowing me to put my arms into his warm sleeves. He puffs his breath into his hands as I wrap the coat around me.

"It's beautiful out here." Thick snowflakes powder the branches of the trees and the full moon glows brilliantly in the darkness.

"Edelweiss, I messed up."

"Not as bad as me." I force out a laugh. "I can't believe I'm still here after stealing that test."

"No." He reaches out and takes my hand in his. "I mean I messed up us. The moment I started feeling..." He takes a deep breath then locks those deep eyes with my own. "The moment I started having feelings for you, I should have been honest. Instead I royally screwed things up."

Feelings for me? The thought is so wonderful that my heart stops.

"I shouldn't have pushed you away. Here's the thing." He takes one step closer and rests his hand on my hip.

A gentle warmth feathers through me. Pure joy.

"Without you in my life, I'm undone. I tried to stay away because, God, you are too good for me. But I can't stay away anymore. There is no other girl for me."

I quiver as his hand touches my cheek. "Edelweiss." The golden flecks in his eyes shine. "I love you."

My shoulders shake as those beautiful words flutter out of his lips. "I..." It's terrifying to speak those same words into the air, proclaiming the truth I feel in my bones, but life is too short to worry about the future. To have the blessing to love means it should be made known. "I love you, too."

His eyes brighten. "Really?"

"More than you'll ever know. I wanted to tell you that yesterday, but you—"

"Ditched out?" He nods. "I'm sorry. I wanted to be the one to tell you first, and I didn't just want to blurt it out before you started speaking. I guess I panicked. Plus, I had all this planned."

I glance down at the bracelet on my arm. "Thank you for putting so much thought into this."

"How are we both so lucky?" He presses his forehead to mine.

"I don't know." Our breath hangs in a fog between us. There's one more thing I need, though. I'm done with letting lofty ideals and naïve expectations shape my experiences. "I do have one request."

"Anything."

"No more rules. No lists. Let's let whatever we are happen naturally."

He chuckles. "No rules?"

I press my hands to his chest, knowing he's teasing. "You know what I mean."

"I do." Then his lips brush against mine, melting me into his arms. I swear I've got one hundred monarch butterflies fluttering in my chest. "Like this?" he whispers.

Yes. Just like that. "James..."

"Edelweiss, please forgive me for everything I've done."

"Of course I forgive you." I brush my nose against his, letting my lips linger on his while I whisper. "But why me?"

"You had me the moment you climbed out of the boys' bathroom window and walked into the lounge like you owned the place. You are braver than anyone I know, and you challenge me to be myself. It had to be you, Edelweiss. It always had to be you."

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Acknowledgments

I feel blessed beyond reason to be writing my fourth book. I've loved this journey and without my readers none of this would be possible. Thank you for taking the time to read these words and the latest love story God placed on my heart.

So much love to the Wirt family and the Froehle family. Your endless support has held me up and inspired me to write stories about family and the heart.

To my agent, Dr. Jamie Drowley, thank you for our hour long telephone calls and always being my go-to gal. You are a great encourager with an endless belief in me, which I appreciate so much.

To Kate Brauning, my amazing editor. Kate, I bet you didn't know what you were getting yourself into when you took me in. We had quite a wonderful ride putting this novel together and I'm so thankful you challenged me. You were everything I needed and this book would not be possible without your trust, support, and being able to see what I could not. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

To Entangled Publishing and the CRUSH line, thank you for choosing me. I'm honored to be part of the Entangled team. You guys have been absolutely phenomenal!

One thing that's integral to any author's sanity is having a community and I've fallen in love with the writers I've met on the road to publication. To Fiona McClaren, Katrina Sincek, Rebecca Yarros, Kelley Harvey, Molly Lee, Nikki Urang, Rachel Scheiffelban, Theresa Marie, Jenny Morris, Suzi Retzlaff, Jenny Bennet, Jessica Salyer, Cassie Mae, Kelley Gerschke, Leigh Covington, and many more, thank you. Thank you for listening. For being in the trenches with me. For your encouragement and ideas. I'll never be able to thank you enough.

To my dear girlfriends, Katie Stano and Elissa Lucier, thank you for believing I had another story to tell and for cheering me on during every draft I tackled.

Evelyn, Penelope, and Owen, thank you for just being you. For shining and being awesome. You are the reason I do this. I'm called to write and dear little ones, I pray you will listen to your own call when the time comes.

To Greg, the love of my life. You are the best man I know. No one believes in me the way you do. You make being your wife so easy. You are the type of guy that puts book boyfriends to shame. You are my everything and I love you. Thank you for all the times you held down the fort while I wrote, encouraged me when I thought I couldn't go on, and always being yourself. I'm so proud to be your wife.

And to God, thank you for placing this purpose in my heart and loving me the way you do.
About the Author

Lizzy Charles writes young adult contemporary romance and would rather read than eat, but if she's not reading then you can bet she's eating. She's a tea fanatic, guacamole expert, and sushi lover (though not necessarily combined). When she's fixing lunches, dressing kids, changing diapers, or wiping pizza sauce off sticky hands, she escapes to La La Land and imagines all sorts of little love stories that she likes to tuck into novels once she's put all three kids to bed. Lizzy loves her daily dose of fitness and is also a Registered Nurse so she can triage any symptom you send her way. Her best friend is her husband, and it's no wonder she loves writing YA romance since the two fell in love in high school. She's also enjoys blogging at LizzyCharles.com where she talks about life, faith, food, health, parenting, and more. Oh and she has a little pup named Professor Lupin who is pretty much the glue to the whole writing operation.
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