Devon

A few more days turned into a few more weeks. And Devon was no closer to talking to Zander. They didn’t have any classes together and Zander refused to talk to Devon when he waited for him after practices.

Zander finally acknowledged Devon, after he cornered him in the parking lot after school. “It’s too late to come crawling back, mate,” Zander warned.

“That’s not why I’m here.”

“Then I have nothing to say to you,” Zander replied strolling to Sophie’s car.

It seemed all Devon’s old teammates were determined to shut him out and Zander wasn’t going to cross that line. Hell, he’d probably been the one to draw it. And Devon couldn’t even blame him. He knew he’d behave the same if it had been Zander to ditch the team while Devon still played.

Devon stood in the parking lot at a loss. He watched Sophie and Zander make out before pulling away. And then he watched Sam slink into a sleek black town car without so much as glancing in his direction. Misery settled into Devon’s chest. He didn’t know what to do. Things with Sam had gone wrong so quickly. She wasn’t speaking to him. She took the car service to and from school and didn’t even come to the lunchroom. He had no idea where she was hiding.

They saw each other at home, but mostly at dinner, and he couldn’t really talk to her in front of her father, Cara and the kids. And every time Devon went to Sam’s door, she refused to answer it.

It was probably just as well. What would he even say? How’s school? Sorry you think I’m avoiding you, but I’m actually trying to protect you?

Devon knew he was running out of options, so he gave up his pride and begged Cara for a favor. She was his last hope.

Sam

Sam’s phone was dead—again. It was dead a lot these days. It didn’t charge right with the stupid UK adapter. And she’d spent all day texting Megan while she was at school so she could pretend she was at Stanton instead of in hell—otherwise known as Eddington.

It’d been two weeks since her first day. Things weren’t any worse, but they weren’t better either. Sophie and her minions were leaving Sam alone now that she wasn’t talking to Devon. But she wasn’t talking to Devon. And that pretty much left no one for Sam to talk to, making her desperately lonely.

After radio silence for two weeks—which was her doing—Sam realized how much she missed Devon. He kept trying to talk to her at home, but her pride got in the way. She hated feeling used. If he wasn’t brave enough to be her friend at school, she wasn’t going to be his friend at home. She knew he was trying to help her, but it still stung.

Sam plugged her useless phone into the charger and decided to video chat with Megan before it got too late. Sam practically lit up when she saw Megan’s face pop onto her laptop screen. “Hey, Meg!”

“Hey, kiddo!” Megan greeted.

“Kiddo?”

“Yeah, I’m trying it out. I need a thing. All great film writers have a thing.”

“Well, it’s not kiddo,” Sam said crinkling her nose.

“What about tootsie? Hey there, toots?” Megan said in a ragtime voice.

Sam giggled and shook her head. “No. Definitely not toots.”

“It worked.”

“What?”

“You laughed! I haven’t heard that sound in ages.”

Sam hadn’t either. She smiled back at her best friend, wishing she could reach through the phone and hug her. “Thanks, Meg. I needed that.”

“So how goes Camp Half-Blood?” Megan asked. That was her code word for Eddington since it referred to a school full of demons and demi-gods.

Sam sighed. “Same, it still sucks.”

“And Devon?”

“He still sucks too.”

“Are you still not talking to him?”

“Yeah. But it’s probably for the best. He’s basically Eddington’s Cody Matthews.”

“Well, maybe you could be his Hannah Stark!” Megan mused, referring to Stanton’s legendary wunderkind who somehow cracked the Goldens and rescued Cody from social exile and jail time.

“I don’t want to be his anything. I just want to come home.”

“What about your dad? Still won’t budge on Boston?”

“Nope.” Sam had told her father how much she hated Eddington and that kids were teasing her, but as suspected, he pulled his usual give it time speech.

“Well, I may have some good news for you,” Megan offered.

“You chartered a helicopter to break me out of this prison world?”

“No, but what would you say to having another inmate join you for a bit?”

“What? You’re coming to Ireland?”

“If you’re still there by winter break, my mom said she’d buy me a ticket to come visit.”

Sam started to tear up, both from happiness and dread. The thought of getting to see Megan made her giddy, but that meant she’d have to survive Eddington all the way till break.

“Is that okay?” Megan asked when Sam didn’t respond.

“Oh my God, yes! That’s amazing, Meg. I think I’m just in shock.”

Sam opened another window on her laptop and started counting.

“What are you doing?” Megan asked.

“Counting the weeks until you get here.”

Megan laughed. “I already did that. There’s eighteen.”

Sam closed her eyes. That seemed like a lifetime away.

“Hey! None of that. You’ve got this, Sam. Are you doing what I told you and going to the library during lunch?”

“Yes.”

“And?”

“And you were right.”

“I knew the nerds would take pity on you.”

“They haven’t befriended me.”

“But they don’t give you shit either, right?”

“Right. But I hate it. I feel like a coward hiding in the library. I could totally take those stupid Irish Barbie dolls.”

“Easy, killer,” Megan said. “Channel that energy into your soccer tryouts tomorrow.”

“I will.” That was pretty much the only light at the end of the tunnel for Sam. Soccer was her solace. Soccer didn’t play favorites. Soccer let you prove yourself and leave everything on the pitch. Plus, Sam couldn’t wait to lay some blonde bitches out.

“Okay,” Megan said. “I gotta get some studying done. Kick ass tomorrow.” She blew Sam a kiss.

“Bye.” Sam waited for the screen to go blank, then she balled herself up on her bed and cried.

How had this happened to her? Her life sucked. Her classes were hard. She had no friends. And she missed Boston so bad she feared she might have actually left her heart there. Plus, her father didn’t even care. Megan was the only one who did, but their friendship was contained to a laptop or cell phone for the next eighteen weeks.

Having no one to interact with face-to-face was starting to depress Sam. She stared at her bedroom door. She almost wanted to go across the hall and sit on Devon’s bed so she could pet Eggsy and maybe convince Devon to bake another pizza. Almost. But almost wasn’t enough.