y life sucked, I still hadn’t been able to get my hands on Hayden’s phone, but at least I’d been invited to my first party.

The invite came the day following my transformation to social media star. I’d cornered Stef and begged him to show me the ways of Instagram. He’d agreed to meet me after school in the dining hall where we could score lattes and internet access. He helped me set up my account and then follow everyone in the senior class. Since most of the accounts were private, they would have to follow me back if I wanted to see their posts.

“What if no one follows me back?” Mostly I was concerned about the girls. From the way guys were checking me out in the halls, I could probably start an account dedicated to my now-infamous pink sports bra, and they’d follow it.

“Don’t worry, they’ll follow,” Stef assured me. “It’s what we do.”

He then took me through the rules of the site on his own phone. “You can’t post more than once a day, or it’s totally pathetic,” he said, scrolling through pictures and posts of our classmates. “Save your best selfies for Sundays if you want the most likes, but posting only selfies will brand you a loser.”

So far we’d come across four different pictures of Sam and me locked together, and they all had a ton of likes along with several embarrassing comments. Mostly people wanted to know if Sam was tapping more than the mat. It was so humiliating.

“On Man Crush Mondays you can post the picture of your boyfriend, or,” he grinned slyly, “the guy you want to be your boyfriend. Woman Crush Wednesday works the same way. I can’t wait to see who posts your pic next week.”

“That’s a thing?” My voice rose an octave. I now had to worry about public declarations of interest? Who the hell came up with this plan?

“Relax,” he ordered. “You have a whole week to check everyone out. They’re certainly checking you out,” he said as he came across yet another photo of me from the gym.

I put my head down on the table in misery. “I’m never leaving my room again. This is too hard. I don’t want to play anymore.”

He laid his head down next to mine and met my gaze. “You can’t stay in your room, or you’ll miss the Friday night Survival Party.”

I lifted my head. “Party?” I’d been dying to go to a high school party ever since streaming my first R-rated high school movie.

He straightened up with a laugh. “Yep. We’re celebrating surviving our first week back. One down, thirty-six to go.”

My mind immediately flashed on my new wardrobe. Surely something in there wouldn’t feel like a straightjacket. “Please say I get to wear something pretty.”

“You better.” With a mocking grin he ran a hand through his sculpted hair. “I can’t be seen with you otherwise.”

That was why I went straight to the dorm after class on Friday, hoping Hayden would spend hours in the bathroom getting ready. I didn’t know how long it would take to install the tracking program but calculated her vanity would help me out.

Seated at my desk, I was deep into the weekend’s homework by the time she showed up. True to form she ignored me, but it didn’t take long for her to plug in her phone. A few minutes later she hit the bathroom. As soon as the shower started running, I jumped up from my chair. Just as I was about to reach for her phone the bathroom door swung open.

We both froze. “Do you have any paper clips?” I blurted, my heart pounding.

She frowned before answering. “In the desk. Top drawer.”

I made a show of grabbing a handful before retreating. She snatched up a hairbrush and returned to the bathroom.

Shaking off my nerves, I counted to ten before sneaking across the room again to seize her phone. With the tracking program booted up and waiting, I quickly cabled her phone to my laptop. The slowest thirty seconds of my life crawled by, but finally it bypassed her password and began downloading the software.

Then the water shut off. The girl was part fish; she never took short showers! I jumped to my feet as if that would somehow speed the process. My computer said it needed five more minutes to download, but what if I didn’t have that long?

The lock on the bathroom door clicked open, and I leapt back into my chair, covering her phone with my arm. My stomach in turmoil, she padded across the room, pulled a few things out of her armoire, and then, merciful gods, went back to the bathroom. She hadn’t even noticed her phone was missing.

Expelling a pent up breath, I counted the seconds until the program finished downloading. With shaking hands I plugged her phone back into the charger and retreated to safety.

A test run revealed Hayden’s phone was somewhere within Watson Hall. When I switched the app to tracking, it zeroed in on the phone’s exact coordinates… our room.

When Hayden emerged again, I had dressed in a cropped white sweater with a short, black pleated skirt and a military-style jacket thrown on top. I must have done something right because she looked me over with grudging approval. She’d gone with a mash-up of a tight tweed skirt and jacket with a red flannel underneath. It was the kind of outfit only a true trendsetter could pull off.

“Who invited you to the party?” she asked.

“Stef.” That must have been the right answer because she said, “You’re coming with me.”

I knew better than to think we were suddenly best friends, but it would save me the trouble of tracking her, so I grabbed my new Céline bag and dutifully followed, locking the door behind us.

It was well past sundown, and the old-fashioned lampposts dotting the walking path were no match for the darkness. Dim pools of light spilled across the trail at even intervals, offering just enough illumination to keep us from stumbling off into the void.

I rubbed the chill from my arms as we trekked right past Hale Hall and toward a giant cement pad serving as a parking lot. Two dozen cars huddled together, most of them covered with gray or beige tarps. Hayden walked up to one and started tugging off the canvas.

“A little help,” she ordered. Our efforts revealed a pretty silver Mercedes coup.

“Is this yours?” Silly question, I know, but I didn’t even have a driver’s license. She rolled her eyes as she stuffed the cover into the compact trunk. Without a word, she got in and started the engine. Feeling awkward waiting for an invitation, I slipped into the passenger seat, though there was no way she’d be allowed to leave campus. Surely Major Taylor had taken steps to prevent that.

We arrived at the front gate and stopped next to the guard kiosk. I waited for the guard to ask her just where she thought she was going, but instead he leaned in with a friendly smile. “Good evening, Miss Frasier. Who is your passenger tonight?”

I stared at them both for a moment. “Uh, Riley Collins.”

He made a note on his clipboard and flipped the switch to open the gate. “Have a good evening, ladies.”

“You too, Don.” We cruised on through.

I swiveled in my seat to face her. “They just let you come and go?” It didn’t matter how good or bad Harrington’s security was if the billionaire’s daughter could leave the school anytime she pleased.

“Seniors have off-campus privileges,” she said with impatience, as if I should know all the rules by now. “Besides, my father knows if he tries to keep me prisoner here, Mom’s lawyers will make his life a living hell.” She turned the car toward Bridgehurst, the nearest town, and cranked up the music.

Her parents’ divorce had played out in the tabloids like a tennis match. Each side had lobbed some killer shots before it was finally settled away from the glare of the spotlight, but it sounded like Mrs. Frasier had not quite finished sharpening her teeth on her ex-husband. No wonder her dad wanted an undercover bodyguard for Hayden.

We drove for a few minutes before coming to a wide spot in the road. On one side was an abandoned diner with a large “for sale” sign propped in a dirty window. On the other was a dimly lit gas station and convenience store called Stop & Shop. She pulled around the side and parked.

“What are we doing here?” I’d been silent up ‘til now—who could talk over the volume she played her music at?—but I had a bad feeling about this place. There wasn’t another car in sight, and it felt deserted.

“You’ll see.” She got out of the car, and I followed like a trained puppy.

The only person in the store was the clerk, an overweight woman in a faded T-shirt that may have once had a beer logo emblazoned across the front. Her eyes were glued to the countertop TV, and she paid us no mind as Hayden zipped to the liquor aisle with obvious familiarity.

“We may be in the sticks, but at least they have decent vodka,” she said, pointing to the top shelf. “Get a couple of the big bottles of Grey Goose.” She wandered a few steps further and selected a large bottle of club soda and a quart of cranberry juice.

“We can’t buy this,” I hissed, gesturing to the alcohol.

She stalked over with narrowed eyes. “If you want a ride back to school, grab the vodka.”

I glared at her. It wouldn’t bother me to walk, but Major Taylor’s deeply disappointed face flashed through my mind if she learned I’d screwed up what little chance there was of befriending Hayden. I snatched two large bottles off the shelf and stomped my way to the register.

The clerk barely glanced our way, wrapped up as she was in a riveting episode of “Wheel of Fortune”. She rang up the alcohol and mixers but before she finished, Hayden grabbed a package of condoms from a nearby display and tossed it on the counter.

“Smart girls always carry protection,” she said with a superior air. She paid with cash, and as she stuffed the change into her bag, she nodded at me. “Get that, will you?”

Resisting the impulse to sigh, “Yes, Your Highness,” I hauled the large brown bag off the counter and trudged to the door. Hayden halted me just as we stepped outside.

“See that?” She gestured to a cheap security camera mounted overhead, aimed right where we stood. “It looks like we both bought the alcohol for tonight’s party, so you better keep your mouth shut.”

I resolved to make sure she made it onto Major Taylor’s shortlist of people to be airdropped into a snake-infested South American jungle, minus the granola bar. She flounced to the side of the building where we’d left the car but skidded to a halt at the corner. The reason became disturbingly clear when I caught up with her.

Parked next to her pretty car was a tired Ford pickup that had seen better days. Splotches of mud couldn’t disguise the rust spots eating through the teal paint, and a crooked coat hanger had been jabbed into the slot where a radio antennae used to be.

The truck’s owner and a buddy were running their hands over the Mercedes as if it was a hot date instead of a car. One of them, a lanky guy in his late twenties wearing a dirty T-shirt and battered cowboy hat, gave us a greasy grin. “I don’t know who is prettier, you ladies or the car.”

His friend straightened from where he’d been peering into the driver’s side window. Wearing jeans and an open denim vest over a bare chest, he looked cut from the same cloth, but the creepy way he ran his eyes over me said he was looking for more than a bit of fun.

“Get away from my car,” Hayden said in her most imperious manner. She had guts, you had to give her that.

“We don’t mean no harm.” The cowboy defiantly sat down on the hood of the car. “We like Harrington girls, don’t we Tom? They think they’re so smart.”

Tom ambled to the front and claimed the other side of the hood, though they had to rub shoulders to fit. He noticed the large bag I carried. “You girls looking to party?”

“We are looking to get the hell out here,” Hayden snapped as if she were reprimanding the hired help. She crossed her arms in a show of bravado, but I wasn’t fooled. Her hands trembled before she balled them into fists.

Their smiles faded, and I got the feeling they were done playing nice. They too must have realized there was a complete lack of security cameras on this side of the building, the lighting was dismal, and there was no one around to help us.

“That’s no way to make friends,” the cowboy complained. He threw his arm around Tom’s bare shoulders.

“I think you’ll find my brother and me can be real good friends to you girls,” Tom added in a tone promising no such thing.

Without taking my eyes off the pair, I shifted the bag to one hip and quietly slid a hand into my purse. “I haven’t been at Harrington for very long,” I said in a conversational tone, “but I’ve already learned the scientific principal of conductivity. How about you get off of the car, and I’ll explain it to you?”

Hayden’s eyebrows shot skyward as I spoke.

“Better yet,” Tom growled, “why don’t you come over here and show me?”

I shrugged. “If you insist.”

I whipped out the Taser and let loose on Tom. Both barbs latched right onto his naked chest, and since the fools were shoulder to shoulder, the charge went straight through Tom and into the cowboy as well. From the way they both stiffened like they’d been starched, I estimated not a volt was lost as the charge raced through both of their bodies.

“That, gentlemen, is conductivity,” I lectured in my best school teacher voice, “and the human body makes an excellent conductor. In this example, Tom has played the part of our conductor while his brother the part of the conductee. Putting an arm around each other just makes it easier to conduct the charge equally between the two of you. Any questions?” I kept up a steady flow of electricity until they slipped off the hood and slumped to the ground. “Apparently not.”

“Start the car,” I ordered Hayden, handing her the bag as I scampered over to retrieve the electrodes. The two jerks would be stunned, but not for long. We needed to bail.

I was barely in the car before she slammed it in reverse. We were back on the road within seconds. After a couple of minutes of driving in silence, Hayden ventured, “How did you know to do that?”

“A smart girl always carries protection,” I dryly observed.

As we neared the gates of Harrington, she said, “Don’t think this makes us friends.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” I replied.