Chapter 1
The school gymnasium bustled with excitement. Isabella winced as a brawny guy crammed onto the bleacher, practically sitting on top of her. He smelled of locker-room sweat, and Isabella grunted as the air squished out of her lungs.
Her best friend, Savannah, turned to glare at him. “Hello? Someone’s sitting there.”
The guy cast Isabella a blank stare. “Sorry,” he mumbled, scooting over a millimeter.
“Maybe look next time before you sit?” Savannah said to him, rolling her eyes.
“Won’t do any good. I’m invisible, remember?” Isabella pulled her phone out of her pocket and sighed. That was the story of her life.
Savannah moved over to give her room and snatched the phone from Isabella’s grasp. “Let me see your new phone.”
The cheerleaders ran onto the gym floor, shouting and waving their pom-poms.
Ugh. There was so much to hate about mandatory pep rallies.
“You have no fun apps.” Savannah nudged her. She had her hair up in pigtails, and she looked like she had just stepped out of an ’80s magazine with her sparkly lips and denim jacket. “You haven’t even put your name in here.”
“I just got it last night.”
“You’d better put a password in, at least. What if someone steals your phone?”
“Who’d do that?” Isabella wanted to laugh but saw that Savannah was serious. “I’ll do it tonight.”
Savannah slapped it back into Isabella’s hand. “At least you have a cool case.”
“I know, right? The Beatles were legendary.” She pocketed her phone. The cheerleaders were forming a pyramid, and she didn’t want to miss it if one of them toppled off.
“I’m still surprised your stepmom let you get a phone.”
“I think it’s because she wants to be able to hound me even when I’m not home. She’s acting like I owe her big-time now. Never mind that Delilah and Ava have had phones since middle school.”
Savannah smirked. “If I were you, I’d have run away a long time ago. Your stepmom is the worst.”
Isabella didn’t want to get into it. She was holding out, waiting for graduation.
Just one more year and she’d be gone. Not even Savannah knew how horrible it was living there, in her father’s house, but not belonging. Unloved and unwanted.
She pushed her glasses up her nose. “You said it.”
A deep voice rang out over the speakers, and Isabella’s heart involuntarily sped up. Chase Hawkins. The most popular guy in school. And an actor. Who could forget the roles he’d had in two major Hollywood movies? Not leading roles, smaller stuff, but still. He was a movie star, and the whole school treated him accordingly.
Chase was her stepsister’s dream man. Isabella had to hear about him every morning as Delilah rushed about, getting ready for school. It made her want to throw up. It might be because Isabella didn’t want to admit to herself that Chase affected her in much the same way as every other female in the school. Especially in physics—he sat right in front of her, and she had to smell his heavenly cologne all period long.
“Are we ready for the game tonight?” he shouted, and the crowd burst into a screaming frenzy. Chase walked to the center of the gym floor with a wireless microphone. “I can’t hear you!”
Isabella feigned boredom but couldn’t help staring at Chase. His dark hair was never perfectly styled, yet it fit his easygoing manner. His smile made her toes curl, and his blue eyes were sigh-worthy. He handled being in front of the crowd with ease. It was in his nature.
“All week we’ve been collecting change for our ‘Kiss the Pig’ contest.” Cheers rang out, and he waited for everyone to settle down again. “I’m sure you’ve seen the teachers’ jars all over the school.” More cheers. “It’s time to announce the teacher who collected the most change and has to kiss the pig.”
Screaming erupted, and Isabella held in a smile. Even though the pep rallies weren’t her thing, she couldn’t deny wanting to see a teacher kiss a pig.
Jason Scott, the quarterback, came out of the locker room wearing his football gear and carrying a squirming pig. It squealed its disapproval at being manhandled. The crowd went nuts, standing and stomping, making whatever noise it could.
Chase pulled an envelope from his pocket. “In this envelope is the name of the teacher who won.”
There was no settling the crowd down now. Even Savannah was screaming. Isabella stood, pulled her phone out, and turned on the camera.
There would be perks to having a cell phone.
She focused in on Chase, zooming in so his face filled the screen. No one heard the click of the shutter on the app—they were too busy hollering.
“Do you want to know who it is?” Chase asked, eating up the attention.
Isabella figured she would probably be deaf after this pep rally.
Chase opened the envelope and tugged the piece of paper out. He grinned and pulled the microphone close to his lips. The gym grew quiet. “Mr. Morgan!” he shouted.
The pig squealed as if in protest, and the entire school blew up. Savannah jumped up and down, shrieking. Brawny guy scowled at her.
Mr. Morgan taught Isabella’s physics class, and he was probably the coolest teacher in the school. He had actively campaigned for his jar to get the most change. All the students loved him; he was young and energetic.
The gym exploded again as Mr. Morgan ran onto the gym floor waving at the bleachers.
Jason held up the pig, and Chase tried to calm everyone down. “Let’s give the man a little silence, please.”
Mr. Morgan put on a show, waving his hand in front of his face like the pig stank. Then he walked around, pretending to contemplate where he should kiss the pig, pausing and looking close at the back end. Laughter rose from the crowd. Isabella snapped another photo, this time of the pig and Mr. Morgan. When he finally leaned down and kissed the pig on the top of its head, cheers erupted and Chase whistled.
“Come to the game tonight and watch us kiss East Ridge High goodbye!” Chase waved one arm, signaling that the students could go.
The cheerleaders stood at the doors handing out candy kisses to everyone. Isabella waited until the mad dash for the doors had dwindled into more of a solid throng before starting down the stairs. “I wish you could come to the game tonight!” Savannah yelled over the noise.
Isabella held in a snort. “Delilah would die if I showed up at a game. I’d ruin her social status or something. I’d rather avoid the drama.”
Savannah gave her a pitying frown and hugged her. “See you Monday.”
Isabella nodded and gave her friend a little wave. Her weekend would be spent running the art gallery her father, Anthony Shepherd, had established before he died. Her stepmother, Mrs. Elenore Shepherd, was too stately to do something as lowly as man a gallery. That fell to Isabella’s shoulders.
She pulled out her phone and fiddled with the photo she’d shot of Chase. She’d caught him while he was smiling, showing his perfect white teeth and a small dimple in his cheek. It was a good shot. She stepped onto the gym floor.
“The pig is loose!” someone screamed.
In an instant, the gym turned into a mass of running students. Some tried to catch the pig while others tried to avoid it. The pig ran past her legs, squealing with what she could only imagine was glee.
“There it is!” someone shouted.
A cheerleader slammed into her and Isabella’s phone went flying. Her heart lodged in her throat. Not her new phone!
It clattered to the floor about two yards from her. She prayed no one would step on it and crack the screen before she reached it. She pushed her way through the crowd, trying to not lose sight of the phone. The pig ran past her again. Someone kicked her phone, and it skittered across the gym.
Her heart pounded. She couldn’t see it. Please, no. She couldn’t lose her phone on the first day of having it! She fought against the steady stream of kids, trying to see where it had landed. There! She saw it. It was on the floor near the wall. She focused on it and shoved her way through.
Just before she could grasp her phone, a hand reached down and picked it up. “Hey, that’s mine!” she said, as she looked up to see . . .
No. Not him. Anyone but him.
Chase grinned at her, holding out her phone—and another one with an identical Beatles case. “Hey, look. We have the same phone case.”
“You like The Beatles?” she asked, then mentally rolled her eyes.
Brilliant. That was a completely idiotic thing to say.
He grinned. “Who doesn’t?” But he wasn’t looking at her anymore. His gaze ran beyond her.
She turned to see Mr. Morgan holding the pig. “Got him!” he shouted. Everyone cheered.
She grabbed her phone from his hand, but Chase didn’t seem to notice.
“See ya at the game.” He brushed past her and ran to catch up to Jason, who slapped him once on the back before they disappeared into the crowd.
And that was it. Her first conversation with Chase, and he didn’t even really look at her. She was upstaged by a pig.
Chase jogged across the parking lot to his Mustang convertible. He unlocked the doors with his key fob and slung his backpack onto the seat.
Friday at last. Football and fun with the guys. This weekend was going to rock.
He climbed into his car, clicked the button to put the top down, and started the engine.
Delilah Shepherd came running across the parking lot in her ridiculously high heels. “Chase!” she shrieked, waving her hand. She was Barbie blonde and had about as much empty space in her head as the doll.
He held in an eyeroll. He was just too nice. That’s what it was. He didn’t have the heart to tell her he wasn’t interested. “Hi, Delilah,” he said as she stopped, panting.
She grinned at him and adjusted her purse. “Some of the guys are coming to my house later tonight for a small get-together after the game. I thought maybe you’d like to come.”
Delilah’s parties were always popular. Most of his friends were probably going to be there. “Sure. Sounds fun.”
Her grin spread, and she placed her hand on his arm. “Great. I’ll see you tonight.”
She took off, and he could see her younger sister waiting for her by their car. They giggled and jumped up and down before getting in their red sports car and driving off. He shook his head.
See? Too nice.
He threw his car into drive and skidded out of the parking lot. Even with Delilah after him, he knew he would still have fun that night.
His phone made a noise. What kind of noise was that? When he stopped at the light, he checked it. There was a text, but he didn’t recognize the number. He looked closer at the phone. It looked brand new. The tiny crack in the corner was gone, and there were no scratches on the screen.
Dang, he had the wrong phone.
He pulled off to the side of the road and read the message.
Where are you? You’re late. If you don’t show up immediately your precious phone privileges will be gone.
Ouch. The girl from the gym was in trouble, and she didn’t even know it.
He swiped the phone open and touched the messaging icon. He typed in his phone number.
We accidentally switched phones. I think your parents are texting you asking where you are.
He waited a minute before realizing she didn’t have a way to answer back; his phone was locked. He sent another text.
Unlock my phone. 110900
A message came through.
Oh my gosh, your phone will not stop beeping at me. I don’t even know what Snapchat is. You’ve got so many messages. Sorry about the phone switch.
That’s OK. Your mom sounds angry. You better hurry home. We can switch phones back tonight at the game.
He slid the phone into his cupholder and pulled into traffic. Five minutes later, he parked in his driveway. The phone beeped again, and he picked it up.
I’m not going to the game. We’ll have to switch them later. Sorry.
She wouldn’t be at the game? Who was this girl? Didn’t the whole school go to the games?
He tried to remember what the girl looked like, but he couldn’t think of her face. Did she have brown hair? Blonde? He wasn’t sure. She was shorter than he was, and that’s all he remembered. He texted her back.
Who are you?
He figured he could look her up in the yearbook so he’d know who he was talking to. As he waited for her answer, he climbed out of his car and grabbed his backpack. Walking into the house, he checked the screen, but no more texts had come through.
Huh.
His mother met him in the kitchen, her dark hair set up in electric curlers. “Excellent. You’re home. I can tell you the good news.”
He inwardly groaned, but didn’t let it reach his throat. “What?”
“You have an audition tonight. Quick. Go shower and change. This is a good one.”
His mouth dropped. She knew he had plans. Why would she do that?
“Mom, there’s a game tonight!” He knew he sounded whiny, but he couldn’t help it.
She narrowed her eyes at him and folded her arms. “Then aren’t you glad you’re not on the team? This is why we decided you shouldn’t try out. It’s your career we’re talking about. Not some unimportant football game.”
His heart sank. It wasn’t his career. He didn’t want it. “It’s important to me. It’s the first game of the season.”
She got that look on her face, the one that said he’d better do what she wanted or he’d be in trouble. “It’s one audition. They are making special arrangements for you to come in tonight. Don’t sass me about it. You can go to the game after.”
He let his shoulders fall. There was no point in arguing with her. His father would have his head if he talked back to her. “Okay.”
“Go get ready. The script’s on your bed. Memorize your lines before we leave.”
He nodded and ran up the stairs. His phone beeped, and he swiped to read it.
Your mom texted. Sorry, I was walking and didn’t see it right away. She said something about an audition.
He answered her back.
Yeah, I know, I just talked to her. I’m going to miss the game.
Getting an audition is good though.
He snorted.
If only I wanted to be an actor.
He hit “Send”—then instantly regretted it.
Why did he say that?
He didn’t talk about that with his friends. They all thought he was cool because he’d had a few roles in the movies. There was a pause, and then another text came.
Why do you do it then?
That was a complicated answer.
Parents.
Oh. Sorry. That stinks. I know how that is.
Who was this girl? He was curious enough to poke around on her phone. He opened her contacts, but they were empty. Didn’t she have any friends in her phone? She hadn’t even put her name in. Just her number showed at the top of the screen. Weird.
He tossed her phone on his bed and stripped down to his boxers. He turned on the shower to let the water get warm and grabbed a towel out of the closet. A half hour later he was dressed and picked up the script. When he saw what role he was trying out for, he confronted his mother.
“Mom, this is a major part.” He flipped through the pages and pages of text. “This isn’t something I can do during school.”
She smiled. “We’ll get you a tutor. Then you wouldn’t have to go to school every day. Honey, this is the role we’ve been waiting for. You’re ready for it.” Her eyes shone, and she flipped her curly hair behind her shoulder. “Come on, you can memorize in the car.”
Just what he wanted.
Not.