SKYLAR
I shifted in my seat. They were staring, all three, like I’d just walked the runway in nothing more than a strip of fabric. I adjusted my top, even though I knew my cleavage was fully covered. A roller coaster of nerves came swooping up, taking my stomach along for the ride. Today was already so much different from yesterday that it felt like a dream.
When I first walked in the classroom, I spotted a table with three girls and smiled, hopeful for an invite. But none of them would look my way. Now, they glared at me like I’d killed their favorite pet.
Why was it so impossible to make a girlfriend?
I sighed, accepting my fate to be forever surrounded by men. It was the curse of the band. Four guys and every one had sons, except my dad.
“First day?” The question broke though my disappointment. It had come from the blond. The future male model who had pulled out my seat. He scooted closer. “I’m Blake.”
Oh, yeah, the king himself. My thoughts went to Henry. He didn’t even look at me this morning. “Yes, I know. Your subjects have kept me well informed.” Ugh. That was probably a dumb thing to say. The last thing Henry needed was my making his life harder.
Blake’s slow smile didn’t look offended. It didn’t look overly friendly, either. It was a smile that spelled trouble. With a promise. “I’m glad to hear it. Keeps the introductions easy.” His eyes shifted to the other two at the table. “That’s Chugger and Cody.”
Cody. The hallway guy who seemed so different from his friends. I knew his name before the introduction, but used the introduction as an excuse to fully check him out. Up close. Cody’s wide jaw and strong chin made him look years older than a high school senior and borderline intimidating. He was tan like the others with a hint of red on his nose and cheeks. But those eyes. The brown color wasn’t unusual, but the intensity, the laser focus that came at me had my insides quivering. Just like yesterday.
I looked away, studied the one referred to as Chugger. The name implied an overweight, brain-deficient frat boy, not the freshly shaven heartthrob in an Oxford button down. Hair the color of sandy beaches and eyes to match, his fair skin glistened almost as much as the humor in his eyes.
Did this table have a hotties-only policy?
“Chugger? There has to be a good story behind that name.” I peeked at Cody in my peripheral. He was still studying me like an impossible math problem.
Chugger leaned in. “It’s from junior high.” His lids lowered, and a small dimple appeared. “I’m free tonight. We can swap stories…and other things.”
Cody snapped to attention like a knight ready to defend my honor. Electricity streaked down my arms, and I felt a strange desire to fan myself. I liked a guy who respected girls. Maybe I’d been coddled growing up, but I came from a world where men opened doors for women and held out their chairs at restaurants.
I tried to ignore my erratic heartbeat and rolled my eyes at the smiling boy who thought way too highly of himself. “I think I’ll pass.”
“Smart girl.” Blake dropped his elbows on the table, his voice annoyed. “Besides, nobody wants to hear about an eighth grader sucking down a liter of Dr. Pepper and then spewing it all over Kasey Moore’s white shirt.”
“It was cream, not white, and I had to do three days in detention for it. I also bought her a new shirt.” Chugger winked at me. “I’m nice like that.”
I had to admit he did have some charm. The kind that would have my dad locking the doors and taking away my phone. But charm all the same. I fought down a giggle and dared to look at Cody again. He was not amused. Nor had he said a word, and I found myself longing to hear him speak.
“No nickname for you?”
Blake answered for him. “Not to his face. But behind his back, he’s known as Saint James. The guy has no idea how to have a good time. He’s the most dedicated wrestler at Madison. Our state champion.” Blake squeezed Cody’s shoulder, but I didn’t see the camaraderie. It felt more like disdain or even jealousy. But Blake was supposedly the king of the school, so I must have missed an inside joke.
Ms. Yarnell called for attention and wrote “Revolutionary War” in script on the whiteboard. I turned around, but the hair on my neck prickled as if someone watched me. Someone with powerful brown eyes. His presence heightened my senses, made me aware of every small noise from the shuffling of paper to the scraping of chairs.
I never before questioned what I looked like from behind, until now. I obsessed about my shirt tag. Was it sticking out, flailing around like a lost cause? Was my hair a mane of beautiful waves or the bird’s nest that greeted me each morning? Was Cody even looking or had I imagined his interest? Yikes. I was turning into one of those girls Ricky made fun of. Not that the band’s lead guitarist could judge. He’d been married three times.
Blake saved me from my internal freak out. “Ms. Yarnell puts twerking and tweeting in the same offensive category, so don’t even touch your phone in this class.”
Laugher imploded in the back of my throat. Blake chuckled along with me, and tears tickled the corner of my eyes. I could see why the students loved him. Blake’s personality reminded me of my father’s—charismatic and confident. The qualities people get addicted to.
My laughter died. Remembering my dad at his prime brought the familiar ache back to my chest. The chemo yesterday had taken its toll, and we spent the night curled up on the couch watching old movies. He slept through most of them, but I didn’t mind. It was enough to have him near. We’d beat the sickness. I chanted it again and again in my head until my shoulders relaxed.
“Skylar?” Blake’s voice showed a hint of concern.
My mind catapulted to the present. Ms. Yarnell was busy passing out the worksheets, yet I had been staring blankly at the board. I turned around. “Sorry. Zoned out for a second.”
Our eager teacher slid the paper in front of us. “These boys can explain the drill to you, Skylar. This is your opportunity to discuss, to reason, and to have a viewpoint that isn’t given to you on some YouTube video. And boys, don’t think you’re getting away with ditching. There will be makeup work. I just haven’t decided how hard to make it yet.”
Her passion was admirable. Even if it was met with snickering from most of the class.
As soon as she took her seat, Blake passed the paper and book over to Cody, who pulled out his pen and began filling in the sheet without bothering to read the questions out loud.
“Shouldn’t we be helping him?” I asked.
“Nah. It’s his turn today. I’d rather hear more about you.” Blake was the type to make eye contact the whole time he spoke. It was unnerving, in a way, to have so much energy focused on me.
“Not much to tell. My parents traveled a lot, so I’ve been homeschooled my whole life. We recently settled here, though, so I thought, why not see how the other half lives?”
That seemed to pull Chugger into the conversation. “Homeschooled? I thought you all wore Little-House-on-the-Prairie clothes and raised goats or something.”
I resisted smacking his arm. “Last I checked, there were no goats in my yard. Although I do keep my prairie clothes available for smart-mouthed wrestlers.”
Chugger caught my humor and came back with feigned shock. “Why, Skylar, are you saying I lack a filter?”
Cody’s snort was the only sign he’d heard our conversation.
Chugger punched him in the arm. “Nobody asked you.”
Cody glanced up, those soulful eyes doing crazy things to my insides before they returned to the writing assignment. He smiled. It was faint and barely recognizable, but I wanted more.
By the end of first period, I’d learned that Blake had an older brother who held the school record for touchdown passes. Chugger was the youngest of three. His two older sisters were mother hen types, so he was spoiled rotten with no remorse on the issue. I also learned that they’d been friends since grade school. Cody was the odd man out. Joining their crew only a year ago.
“So, how bad was it yesterday?” Blake’s words came out amused.
I shrugged. “Quiet. Boring. But at least no one saw how lost I was. Well, except Henry, but he was very helpful.”
Chugger choked out a cough. “Henry Watkins? The four eyes with high waters?”
My mouth tightened. “You do need a filter. Henry is a nice guy and could have said mean things about any one of you, but didn’t. Maybe you could offer him the same courtesy.” My hearted pounded by the time I finished, and my hands trembled.
I stared at the boys, but only Blake made eye contact with me, and his expression was blank. I couldn’t tell if I annoyed him or if he respected my gumption. And why did I feel like I needed his approval? That bothered me almost as much as Chugger’s words.
“Apologize.” The demand came from Blake. It was cool and effortlessly powerful.
“You’re right,” Chugger said. “Sorry I said anything.”
An awkward silence hung around the table. Cody stopped writing and, although he wasn’t looking at me, I sensed something in his shoulders. They were tight. His neck strained as if waiting for an explosion.
“Personally, I love a good set of glasses.” Blake smiled like a man who knew he would look good in anything. “What do you think, Skylar? Would I look good in glasses?”
“Of course, but it would be a shame to hide those eyes.” My answer was meant to be cute and truthful—Blake had remarkably blue eyes—but I realized too late it sounded flirtatious.
Cody’s head lifted and he tossed his pen. “Done.”
My nerves prickled under his stare. Why did I feel like it was now my turn to apologize?
“Dude, that took you almost the whole period,” Chugger said.
Cody fell back in the chair. “Ms. Yarnell must have been all kinds of ticked when she wrote up this worksheet.” He flexed his fingers like they cramped and passed the sheet to Blake. We each signed our name and passed it back to him.
He glanced at mine and stared at me with bewildered shock. “Da Lange?”
My cheeks flushed hot red. He knew the name? No eighteen-year-old boy should know who my mom is. Fear rattled my otherwise steady tone. “Um, yeah. It’s Irish.”
The bell rang before he could probe further.
I darted to my feet and Blake followed, grabbing my bag off the floor. “I’ll walk with you.”
Cody glanced from me to the paper and back up again. He was going to figure it out. I could see the recognition in his eyes. Maybe that’s why he made me unsteady. Maybe it had been there all along.
“Sure. Let’s go.” My ears were on fire. I wasn’t even going to get a full day of “real” high school before everyone knew I was Donnie Wyld’s daughter.