Chapter Two

Meg

I ducked into a classroom when I saw our guidance counselor, Miss Perez, strolling in my direction. As always she wore an immaculate pantsuit, kitten heels, and a dainty string of pearls. Her glossy black hair was snipped into a flawless bob. She looked like she belonged in a private practice office. Not a cramped, windowless cubicle that harbored the smells of teachers’ lunches nuked in the break room across the hall.

Shortly after Sydney’s terminal diagnosis three years ago, my parents insisted I meet with someone to help me cope. It was too bad they didn’t abide by the same rule. While I missed my little sister beyond measure, at least I was able to get out of bed in the morning. I hadn’t cut myself off from my friends or retreated into a shell of my former self. Not like my mother had. And my father? He had thrown himself so totally and completely into his business that we hardly saw him anymore.

I had crept through the front door last night, not at all surprised to find Mom sleeping on the couch. I made my way up the stairs to the sound of Dad’s soft, rumbling snores. He always slept with the bedroom door open—no matter how bad of a fight they had—a standing invitation for my mother to join him.

She never did.

As far as I knew she hadn’t slept in their bed since Sydney died.

The clickety-clack of Miss Perez’s heels grew louder, and then the sound receded as she passed by.

Most days I wouldn’t even consider avoiding her. Today was a different story. Miss Perez could read me easier than her favorite psychology text. One look at my face and she’d likely know I’d gotten myself into trouble last night.

I eased back into the crowded hallway.

I hadn’t been able to sleep after last night’s excitement, so I’d gotten up early. I took advantage of the extra time by coating myself in imaginary armor. My eyeliner was a little thicker, my eye shadow a little darker.

I’d slipped into my favorite boots. They were black, up to my knees, with silver buckles down the sides. The spiked heels gave my height enough of a boost that they should put me at eye level with Luke. I was anticipating a run in with him. I didn’t want him to have any sort of advantage over me. Not even the advantage of height.

My leather pants were previously reserved solely for riding. My black sweater hung loosely off one shoulder. I hoped it screamed edgy. I wanted to give off a don’t-mess-with-me vibe without coming across as totally tacky.

My best friend, Francesca Rossini, swooped in from behind me as I neared my locker. Her fingers dug into my biceps as she pulled me into an alcove. Francesca was petite, yet her temper could be monstrous.

“What were you thinking?” Her words were a hiss, her dark brown eyes alert as they scanned the hallway, making sure no one was listening. She shoved an unruly dark curl behind her ear. It defiantly bounced right back, landing against her olive-toned cheek.

Francesca was the only person I’d ever told about my late-night obsession.

She obviously didn’t approve.

I couldn’t blame her. If she knew the murals were in honor of Sydney, she’d probably be more understanding. But it hurt too much to talk about, so I’d never explained it, not even to her.

“I mean, the school? It’s one thing to paint an abandoned building that no one is going to notice. It’s another thing entirely to paint the freaking school.” She jammed her fists onto her hips.

I pinched the bridge of my nose. “I know.”

“What if someone had seen you? Do you know how much trouble—”

Her gaze zeroed in on something past my shoulder. I twisted around to see what had her so bewildered and found myself facing Luke. I couldn’t remember if he was normally in this hallway in the morning.

He grinned at me like we were old pals.

“Hey, Meg. How’s it going?”

I stuffed down a groan and fought the urge to give him the bird.

He continued to smile.

I glared back.

I felt Francesca’s gaze swing between us.

He said, “Did you get home safely last night?”

“I obviously did,” I replied through gritted teeth.

“So I stopped by the office this morning. I had to hand in some paperwork for a class I dropped. Principal Prichard is not a happy man right now. He’s mad, Meg, real mad.” Luke shook his head, attempting to look forlorn.

“Why would Meg care?” Francesca asked in a careful tone.

He looked at me and winked.

“What do you want, Luke?” I grumbled.

He shrugged. “Just wanted to say hi.”

“Hi. Now go.”

“So feisty.” He chuckled as if this had become a joke between us.

“We have to get to class.” Francesca grabbed my arm and tugged me away again.

I glanced back at him and made a face as if to say, What can I do?

His lips twitched in amusement.

“Last night?” Francesca’s fingers dug into me as she towed me through the crowd.

“I ran into him. Last night.”

We skidded to a stop as we reached my locker. She wedged her fists onto her hips again. It was a stance I knew well.

“Ah, hell no,” she said. “He knows?”

I made an apologetic face and nodded.

“He knows?” she whisper-yelled this time.

“Yes.”

“Meg. How did he find out?” Only a few beats passed before she grimaced. “He caught you?”

“Literally red-handed,” I mumbled.

She narrowed her eyes at me and tossed her ebony mane of ringlets over her shoulder. Her silence was a testament to how angry she was.

“It’s fine,” I said emphatically. “I have it under control. He’s not going to tell anyone.”

“You’d better hope not.” She spun on her heel and marched off to her locker without a backward glance.

…

“Okay. So, news flash.” Kylie Jenkins dropped into the seat across from me. “Jaclyn Winters was talking about you in second hour. Bethany Hanson and Meredith Cooper are both in the class with us. Obviously she doesn’t have a clue who I am so I was able to listen in on the whole conversation.”

She looked at Francesca and me, vibrating with excitement.

I poked at the limp salad I’d assembled.

“What did she say?” Francesca momentarily set her cell phone down on the table. Typically she spent all of her lunch hour texting Nate, her boyfriend. He was off at college two hours away, but he came back to Laurel every weekend. During the week they texted, FaceTimed, and chatted on the phone every chance they got.

“She was super pissed because she said she’s heard Luke’s been asking around about Meg.” Kylie turned to me as if I hadn’t just heard her explanation. “Jaclyn wants to know why Luke is asking about you.”

I wilted in my seat.

Kylie stared at me with blatant curiosity, her green eyes silently assessing. She leaned forward on her elbow, waiting for me to say something.

I didn’t know what to say. I had no idea what Luke was up to.

Was he trying to see if I had a criminal past?

Maybe he was looking into me. Maybe he was curious about whether or not this was a one-time thing or if I had a history of unlawful behavior. Would he not keep my secret if he thought I was a repeat offender? I’d never been caught before. He wouldn’t find out anything that way. But that didn’t mean that he wouldn’t be able to find my other murals himself. I rubbed my temples.

“So why,” Kylie wondered as she began to peel her orange, “is Luke asking about you?”

“How should I know?” I stabbed a cucumber. This was getting more complicated by the second.

“Well, are you interested in him?” Kylie pressed as Francesca simultaneously chewed her food and mentally scolded me.

“Why would you ask that?” I demanded.

She leaned back in her seat. “Why do you think? It seems like he’s interested in you. I wondered if—”

Francesca interjected, “No, Meg isn’t interested in him.”

“What she said,” I agreed.

“But—”

“No, Kylie,” I interrupted. “I have no interest in Luke Prescott. Nor do I have any interest in facing the wrath of Jaclyn Winters.”

“They broke up.”

“Who? Luke and Jaclyn?” I glanced around at my friends. Francesca nodded. I shrugged. “Doesn’t matter.”

“They broke up over summer break. How do you not know that?” Kylie asked.

“I think the question is why would I care?”

Kylie looked stumped. “I don’t know. Maybe because he’s the star pitcher for the Laurel Wildcats? They say he’s so good he could possibly go pro if he wanted to. Or maybe because his dad practically owns this town? Or maybe—”

“Maybe you should drop it,” Francesca ordered.

Kylie frowned. “What’s with you two?”

“Nothing. Just tired,” I said as I tried to smooth things over.

“Things not going well at home?” she asked.

“Are things ever good at home?”

“Good point. So maybe you should let him take your mind off things.” She peeled another wedge from her orange.

“You’re wrong. It’s not like that.”

“Tell him that.”

Reflexively I followed her line of sight. It led to the most coveted table, the one closest to the door. The inhabitants never had to trudge their way through the maze that was the cafeteria. My gaze collided with Luke’s. He grinned at me and had the nerve to wave.

“See what I mean?” Kylie asked.

“I’ll be right back.” I shoved away from the table and swerved my way through the crowded room. The closer I drew to Luke, the bigger—no, cockier—his grin got.

“Well, hello there, Meg Matthews,” he said.

My gaze bounced around the table. His friends had stopped talking and were now eyeing me with curiosity. I forced a smile as I returned my attention to Luke. “We need to talk.”

His chair slid across the gritty linoleum with a squeal. I headed toward the cafeteria doors, staying a few steps ahead of him. I didn’t glance around, but anxiety danced up and down my spine as I imagined every eye in the room drilling into our backs. It was much quieter out in the hallway.

“What’s up?” He leaned against a locker and cocked his head to the side, pale blue eyes sparkling with amusement. He looked harmless in his cozy cream-colored Henley. His deceptively charming dimples sprang to life as a smug smile crept onto his face.

“Stop asking around about me.” I channeled Francesca and armed myself with some attitude. I slammed my fists onto my hips as I glared at him, eye to eye.

“That bothers you?”

“I didn’t say it bothers me. I just don’t like it.”

“Well, you better get used to it.”

“Why is that?”

“Meet me at Maebelle’s Diner after school.”

“Maebelle’s?” It was a small diner on the edge of town. I knew it well. “No.”

“I think you mean yes,” he said calmly. “You did hear this morning’s announcements, right? Mr. Prichard made it perfectly clear he wants the vandal caught.”

My heart rate kicked up several notches. I had heard the morning announcements.

“I even heard rumors,” Luke casually stated, “that the PTA is trying to scrounge up a rather substantial reward.”

Students were loitering at the vending machines. Did he have to talk so loud?

“I’ll be at Maebelle’s. If you don’t show by four o’clock, I’ll be giving Mr. Prichard a visit.”

“Can’t you say whatever it is you’re going to say? Save us both some time?” I fell back against the lockers and stared at the ceiling, the inevitability of the situation settling upon me.

“You owe me.”

“So you’ve said.”

He leaned in close, keeping his voice low. His nearness made my heart stutter. “You’re going to pay me back by being my girlfriend.”

I whipped my head toward him. What the hell? Surely I had heard him wrong. I waited for him to laugh. To tell me he was joking. When he didn’t, I laughed instead.

“Um, no.” I frantically glanced around, grateful our friends were still in the cafeteria. No one out here was paying attention to us. The students at the vending machine were more concerned with their junk food options.

A feeling of dread pooled in my stomach. I hadn’t allowed myself to give much thought to what Luke would expect from me. But this? This was the last thing I would’ve dreamed of.

“Fake girlfriend,” he amended. “It’ll be for show.”

“You are insane.” I started backing away from him on wobbly legs. “There is no way I’m going to live that kind of lie.”

“Why? Because you’re so honorable?” He scoffed. “I caught you vandalizing school property. Don’t take this the wrong way, but to me that says you’re at least a little bit morally pliable.” He winked at me. “Maebelle’s. See you there.”

With that, he pushed off from the locker and sauntered away.

I stared after him. I would not be anyone’s fake girlfriend.