UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

HarperCollins Publishers

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TANNER AND I LURKED IN FRONT OF SACRED Heart, watching as groups of couples walked up the steps into the building. For such a small school, it fit an endless mass of people. All dressed up. As in, not in jeans, like us. Every so often we’d get a look that made me feel like I should be holding out a donation cup or something.

“This doesn’t look like the sort of dance you can just show up to, T,” I said.

He craned his head to get a better look into the vestibule. There was a table with two girls sitting behind it. Two very dressed-up girls.

“There’s a sign that says it’s fifteen at the door,” he said.

“Per couple, which we are not,” I said. “Let’s just get outta here, hit a movie or the diner.” I started walking toward the VW, which I’d parked about a block away but slowed when I realized Tanner wasn’t following me.

“Dude, we’re here,” he said, waving his arms around. “We might as well figure out a way to get in, or stand by the gym door.”

“I’m not standing by the gym door to hear Smegma,” I said, walking back to him. I’d felt pathetic enough the night Duncan caught me sitting in the Beetle trying to avoid him and Hannah. No matter how curious I was to hear their sound, I wasn’t going to freeze my ’nads off and risk the humiliation of getting caught lurking.

What the hell were we doing here?

“When the crowd thins out, I’ll go in and chat up the ladies,” Tanner said. I laughed but his face was determined.

“Oh, you’re serious?”

“Why not? I’m sick of waiting for shit to happen,” he said.

He’d made an effort—his usual white-boy ’fro tamed and combed to the side. And he reeked of some shower gel stuff that he claimed was supposed to smell like “exotic and spicy.” I’m sure whatever that was supposed to smell like wasn’t something you needed to brace yourself against. Tanner was surrounded in a formidable cloud.

“Fine,” I said.

We waited a good five minutes until the front door was dead. Tanner loped up the steps and opened the glass doors to go inside. He shoved his hands into his pockets as he stood there, and both girls looked up at him. There was no way they were letting us in.

The one girl whispered in the other’s ear. She gave Tanner a once-over. He gestured toward the door—toward me, I realized in horror—and shrugged, arms out to the side, hands up. They kind of squinted, one girl shielding her eyes from the overhead light like she was saluting someone, and looked right at me. I wasn’t sure if they could see me in the shadows, but I slunk back behind the fence. One of the girls shook her head and smiled. Tanner walked out.

“Not an open dance. We need a Sacred Heart chick,” he said, trotting down the steps.

“Well, that settles it, then,” I said, turning. He grabbed my sleeve.

“I think you should talk to them,” he said.

“And say what?”

“I dunno, something that will get us in.”

“Why would they listen to me?”

“I didn’t really try that hard. Jess, come on, you’re a front man, start acting like one. These girls would be pressed against the stage for you. I’ve seen it. Just, you know—”

“What? Sing to them? This is a stupid idea.”

“Sure, a stupid idea, like finding a drummer or taking off that fucking wristband, or anything that means leaving her behind.”

Every so often, T would cut to the chase. You’d think he was clueless and goofy and then, there it was—a spot-on revelation. But the drummer thing—both guys were good. It felt like choosing one over the other would be shutting down a world of possibility. Although in my gut I thought I knew which choice would be the best for us.

“That’s not what this is about.”

“Really? So if Hannah came up to you right now and told you it was all a mistake and she wanted to hook up again, you wouldn’t crawl right back to her.”

“No.”

“Bullshit.”

Before I could think about it any more, I tore up the stairs and opened the door. Jesse the front man can handle this. Own it, I thought, even though I generally believed anyone who talked about himself in the third person, even in his head, was a complete nimrod. The girls looked ready to be challenged. No backing down now.

“Hey,” I said, sauntering up to the table. I hooked my thumb in my belt loop, taking the laid-back, I-don’t-really-need-to-get-in, caj approach.

“Hi,” the girl with the dark hair said.

“This dance—you really have to know someone to get in?”

“It’s a Sadie Hawkins dance, you have to be asked,” the other girl said with a smile. The smile was key. Genuine. Cute. An endless stream of girls in dresses and guys following them flowed into the gym. The doors were only about ten feet away and wide open. I could see the stage. Plasma wasn’t on yet.

“I’m just here for the band, is there any way you could look the other way, for like, five minutes? I’ll even pay the fifteen dollars. I swear I won’t stay long.”

“Why do you want to see the band?” the dark-haired girl said, putting her chin in her hand.

“I hear they’re really good.”

“Liar,” the other girl said.

“Okay, maybe I want to see how good they are. Kind of friendly competition.”

They looked at each other. There was a cheer from the gym. The band walked out onto the stage. Kenny Ashe pulled his guitar strap over his head. Duncan settled down behind the drums. When the rest of the guys were in place, Kenny counted off the song. The sound exploded into the gym, “Dance, Dance”—really? Duncan was a little fast on the beat.

“Please,” I said.

There was a slow second, a moment I knew they were wavering. Then a tall girl in a short black dress with legs for miles walked over to us.

“Hey, ten more minutes and we can officially close the door,” she said. Her cool green eyes darted over me—my Vans, leather jacket, the frayed pocket of my jeans. Whatever progress I’d made had just gone back to square one.

“Can I help you?” she asked, looking at me like I was something she’d flick off a friend’s sweater.

Front man, Jess.

“He just wants to see the band, Ava.”

She crossed her arms. “You can’t.”

“Look, I’m friends with them, I’ll just stay for one song, two tops,” I said. “I’ll even just stand at the doors, how’s that?”

“We’re at capacity.”

“But . . .”

“Do I need to get someone more persuasive to walk you out?”

Who? The Sadie Hawkins police? I wanted to say, but I didn’t need to call more attention to myself. I shook my head and went back outside. Tanner waited at the foot of the steps.

“So?”

“They opened with Fall Out Boy, can you believe that? Then some girl kicked me out.”

“Damn.”

“Wait,” I said, checking out the fence around the property. From the top stair the fence looked easy to get over. “There must be another way in—a back door or something. If I get in, I can let you in one of the gym doors. Give me a boost.”

“Huh?”

“Do we want to see Plasma or stand out here like numbnuts waiting for shit to happen?” I asked, checking out the area to make sure we were alone.

He grinned and interlocked his fingers, then hoisted me up. I teetered on the top of the fence for a split second before grabbing a tree limb and dropping down onto the lawn.

“Wait, what should I do?” Tanner whisper-yelled.

“I’ll text you when I find a way in,” I said, heading toward the side of the school, although what I was going to do after I got past the shrubbery and statues of stern-looking angels, I wasn’t sure. Tanner’s “waiting for shit to happen” got to me. Is that what I was doing? Would I really let Hannah walk back into my life if she wanted? And if she did . . . would it make everything better?

Past the shrubs was a wide, tree-dotted lawn that ran the length of the building. I crouch-walked toward the classroom windows, hoping to find even the tiniest breach. Sacred Heart was ancient. My mother had told me once that she and her friends would climb out the window in the spring to catch some rays during study hall. I couldn’t imagine my mother being that ballsy, but if she could climb out a window, I could climb in. I only hoped they hadn’t updated their security system to more than the stone angels that guarded out front.

Each set of windows I tried was locked. Shit. Then I spied one toward the end of the building that was cracked open slightly. The lengthwise window opened outward. There were two panes in it, but it was one solid piece. I slid my fingers in and pulled. Nothing. I tried again, widening my grip. It gave a tiny bit. My fingers ached from the cold. I shook out the numbness, adjusted my grip, and pulled again, working it for a good minute until it opened enough for me to slip through. I took a last look outside for any telltale security lights or cameras in corners of the building, and wriggled my way in.

A thick drape covered the window. There was a moment when both feet dangled on either side of the windowsill, until my left foot finally found the floor. I gripped the sides of the frame and backed in. My fingers slipped and I toppled down, the drape fanning out around me as my ass hit the floor. I groaned and propped myself up on my elbows, letting my eyes adjust to the dark.

The only light in the room came from the dimly lit hallway. I pushed myself up to standing and brushed myself off before shutting the window. Desks were arranged in a semicircle—and on the chalkboard—they still had chalkboards here?—was the quote “To be or not to be, that is the question.” Ha. Well played, universe.

When I opened my messages to text Tanner, I already had two from him.

I’m in.

Side door to caf open.

For fucking real? I laughed. I felt stupid. Reckless. Alive.

I stepped into the hall. The sound of the band—Kenny Ashe’s muffled voice screaming out a song I couldn’t decipher—echoed through the empty corridor. Farther down, people milled around in front of two open doors. Cafeteria, maybe? I hugged the wall as I moved toward the action. As I got closer, I noticed a leggy silhouette turn the corner at the end of the hallway. The girl from the front who shut me down. My heart shot into my throat. No fucking way was I getting kicked out after this. I ducked into the cafeteria, crouching a bit to get lost in a throng of kids.

I worked my way over to a vending machine and studied it as if my life depended on finding a healthy snack. In the reflection of the glass I could see that I was unnoticed, at least for the moment. I peered over my shoulder, scanning the room for Tanner. My eyes landed on a familiar-looking girl in a black dress standing behind a long table covered in water bottles and several trays of cupcakes. Where did I know her from?

“Jesse?”

Someone tugged my jacket. I flinched and turned toward the voice.

There was a girl next to me. The short-haired one from yoga.

“Madison.” I could not hide my surprise as I checked her out. There wasn’t a word to describe how she looked. Only sounds, syllables. She was cute after class, but damn.

“Wow.” Smooth, Jess, why don’t you just grunt?

She lowered her eyes and smiled.

“Thanks,” she said. “Who are you here with?”

“I—um . . .” I stuttered as she gave me a once-over. I could see it was dawning on her that I wasn’t exactly dressed for the occasion. Her grin got wider. I knew it was okay to tell her the truth. I wasn’t sure why, maybe it was that smile—man, it was the kind of smile that gave you an adrenaline rush from just being on the receiving end. I had to smile back.

“I’m not here with anyone, just snuck in to see the band,” I said. Her eyes got round. Had I made the wrong call? She leaned toward me.

“Then why are you staring into the vending machine?” she whispered. “Especially this one—seriously, who would actively choose papaya fruit leather over peanut M&Ms?”

I laughed. “Well, I kind of got hassled at the door, so I’m um, flying under the radar.”

“C’mon.” She motioned for me to follow her. I looked down, careful not to step on the back of her dress. We walked up to the table. The girl in the black dress handed Madison a camera on a long strap. Ah, the other Thursday Girl from yoga.

“Thanks for watching it,” Madison said as she put the camera over her head. “Look who I found wandering around the cafeteria.”

“Hey, Mugshot,” the girl said.

“It’s Jesse,” I said.

“Wren,” she said, smiling. “Your friend just wandered through here a little while ago.”

“Really? No one hassled him?”

“Not that I saw.”

“Where’s the ball-and-chain? He bailed on cupcake detail already?” Madison asked her, fiddling with the camera and pointing it at Wren.

Wren put her hand over her face and waved the camera away. “The band played some Nirvana song he wanted to check out. No reason the two of us should miss out. If you see him, tell him my shift is done in about ten minutes.”

“I’m off to be roving photographer—don’t forget we need to get a picture of the three of us later,” Madison said, sneaking in a few fast clicks of Wren, who finally smiled for the camera. The three of us? She tugged my sleeve again and I followed her through the side doors of the cafeteria and right into . . . Legs. Who immediately recognized me.

“I thought I told you—”

Madison grabbed my arm. “Ava, he’s with me.”

Legs/Ava blinked fast a few times and looked between us. Madison moved even closer to me.

“Wait, I thought you were with Zach O’Keefe.”

“I am, and I’m also with Jess. It’s ladies’ choice, right? I can have two dates, there’s no weird Sadie Hawkins bylaw I’m not aware of, is there?”

This stunned her speechless.

“Ava, come on, stop being a dance Nazi. It’s a success. Enjoy it,” Madison said, pulling me along. “And Wren wants to dance with her boyfriend, no one cares about cupcakes!”

Ava opened her mouth to say something but then just shook her head and almost . . . almost smiled before walking into the cafeteria. Did that mean . . . ? I was in the clear. Madison held on to my hand, leading me down a narrow, darkened hallway toward the pounding thrum of the band. People were coming and going, like an ant tunnel, but she held on to me, looking over her shoulder once and saying something I couldn’t hear. It was hot and loud; I gripped her hand a little tighter. We finally made it to a door that opened to the gym.

The gym floor was thick with people in front of the stage dancing to a craptastic version of “What I Like About You.” Kenny was breathless as he sang—probably from jumping around the stage like an idiot. We wove our way through the mob, stage lights flashing red and green and purple over the crowd. Madison stopped to chat with a few people, then held the camera in one hand over the mass of heads and started snapping random pictures. The flash made my vision spotty. We made it to the far wall, where she finally let go of my hand.

“So are they friends of yours?” she yelled, gesturing to the band and rocking a little to the beat.

“Not really—that’s our old drummer. Just checking out the competition,” I yelled back. She nodded. The gym was less crowded than it appeared from up front. Most of the people were toward the stage, with a few stragglers hanging around the perimeter of the room. Tanner was still MIA. I checked my phone. Nothing.

“Hey, I’m going to find my date. You okay?” Madison asked.

I wouldn’t have minded hanging out with her some more, but yelling at each other over the music wasn’t exactly the perfect situation to get to know someone. Oh yeah, and the fact that she was here with someone made the whole thing a bit inconvenient.

“Yeah, thanks for helping me.”

“You still owe me that chai.” She waved as she walked off into the crowd. What guy would be idiot enough to let her out of his sight at a dance?

I leaned against the wall and finally spotted Tanner. He was dancing with Tori Ashe and her friends. I guess he threw the lying-low plan out the window. I laughed. He looked a little spastic, but it worked for him. I’d forgotten that Kenny’s sister went to Sacred Heart, which probably helped with them getting the gig. One thing Kenny had was connections. I tried to be objective—just a dude listening to a band. They weren’t that bad and the crowd seemed to like them.

Then I saw her.

Hannah. She was in a dark dress, hair down, and moving to the music, her face lit up red. Green. Purple. I hadn’t thought about seeing her or if the band could bring dates. Anytime I thought I was over it, that she hadn’t crossed my mind in a few hours—zap. This awful jolt Tased me. Maybe it hurt a little less.

Or not.

I fiddled absentmindedly with the infinity band—okay, bracelet—that I still wore . . . for her. For us. Hoping.

“Come on, Jess, just get them. One for me, one for you,” she’d said. We’d been walking around the street fair for a while, browsing the table of, like, the tenth jewelry vendor we’d seen.

“Guys don’t wear bracelets,” I’d said, even though I knew I was going to cave.

“What’s that big-ass ugly thing you’ve already got on?”

“That’s a wristband. There’s a difference.”

“So call it a wristband—pretty please, sugar on top, and all that stuff,”

The look in her eyes was worth the forty bucks. Worth a million.

I hadn’t taken it off since that day. Even at my worst moments, when I hated HannahDunk more than I thought I could hate anything, it was still on my wrist. I tugged at it and looked away.

The band finished the song with a crash. Kenny breathed into the mic—Back in ten!—and the guys walked off. I sent Tanner a text where to find me; I didn’t want to walk over there to his dance circle. I’d seen enough. We could pick the shittiest drummer and still be better than Smegma. Booming dance music blared out of the speakers and the crowd swelled as some rapper sang about talking dirty. My head pounded with the beat. My jacket felt tight. The edges of the room blurred. Madison was suddenly in front of me.

“Couldn’t find him,” she said. “Hey, you okay?”

“Yeah, fine. I just . . . hate this music.”

“I know, right?”

“Mads! I’m free!” Wren scurried across the dance floor to us. “Where’s Jazz? I haven’t seen her since we got here.”

Madison shrugged.

“Duuuuude, did you get a load of . . . hey, Thursday Girls,” Tanner said, joining us. His stunt on the dance floor must have given him some swagger because I’d never seen him so laid-back in front of these girls. “So what’d you think, they suck, right?”

“Pretty much,” I said.

“Who, the band?” Wren asked.

“Yeah,” T said.

A tall guy crept up behind behind Wren, putting his finger to his lips. Madison pretended not to notice him. Wren jumped as he wrapped his arms around her, then laughed. The “ball-and-chain” . . . wait. He looked at me.

“Grayson?”

“No effing way,” Tanner said, realizing his number-one drummer choice was wrapped around the girl he’d drooled over for a month.

“Hey, how do you know—” Grayson said.

“Jess works at Mugshot, we go there after yoga.” Madison motioned back and forth between us.

The five of us stood there, kind of nodding to the overpowering beat and just looking at one another, searching for something to talk about. I knew what was coming, could feel the subject swirling there in the center of us, building up energy. Grayson spoke first.

“So did you ever, um, you know, find anyone?” His eyes darted from me to Tanner.

Grayson was not my first choice; the other dude, Plasma’s old drummer, was technically better and more experienced. Tanner, on the other hand, thought he’d want to come in and take over, whereas Grayson would be a better fit for us. We were at a stalemate, but standing there, having Grayson ask me point-blank, my gut told me a different story. It craved action. Forward motion. I looked at Tanner.

“Um, yeah, you, well . . . you saved us a phone call,” I said.

“What?”

“Can you practice with us tomorrow?” I asked.

“Yeah, definitely.”

“What do you think?” I asked Tanner.

“Great.”

“So you can vouch for this guy,” I said to Madison.

“Me? Um, I guess he’s all right. His car is awful, though.”

“Thanks, Mads,” Grayson said, grinning.

I looked at Grayson. “Guess you’re in.”

“The band for this sort of sucks, don’t they?” he said.

“Yeah.” I already liked him. This was the right decision. He gave us each an enthusiastic handshake to seal the deal.

The music changed to a slower groove. The crowd split apart, some people pairing off like magnets, a few leaving the floor or awkwardly standing there. Madison searched the dance floor, looking for her idiot date no doubt. She fumbled with the camera.

“No more interviews or cookies, right? We can dance?” Grayson asked, holding out his hand to Wren. She grinned, took his hand, and it was like they were already dancing. He brought his forehead down to hers, her hands clasped behind his neck, up into his hair as they curled into each other, eyes open.

“Sickening, isn’t it?” Madison said, tilting her chin toward Grayson and Wren. She said it with a smile, like she didn’t really think it was sickening at all but felt like she needed to say something since we were just there gawking at them. They kissed. She walked out to the center of the floor and took some snapshots of them. I looked away.

Bam.

Duncan and Hannah swayed into my view. They weren’t pressed together like Grayson and Wren, but their arms were around each other and Duncan was talking, a smile on his face. Hannah leaned into him and whispered something in his ear. He laughed and then brought her in closer. She put her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes. I could not look away. There was no jolt this time. More like an empty ache, pressure, like someone was slowly pushing the air out of my lungs. They were happy. They didn’t even know or care if I was there. Their relationship had nothing—nothing—to do with me.

Madison walked back over to me.

“I think we should go,” Tanner said.

“You’re leaving already?” Madison asked.

A chestnut husk stuck in my throat; the room was hot again.

“Yeah, we’ve seen enough, right, T?”

“Yep.”

“Well if you need to sneak into Sacred Heart anytime, I’m your girl,” she said.

I pushed open the side door, and a cold gust shot in. Madison shivered.

“I’ll keep that in mind, thanks.”

We walked out into the night, silent as we went back to the car. My ears still thrummed with the sound of the gym, my mind still numb from the reality of what I’d seen. I yanked off the infinity bracelet, stopped short of tossing it to the curb, and shoved it into my pocket. No more pining, for fuck’s sake.

“You’re okay we went with Grayson?” I asked Tanner.

He nodded. “Why, because he’s with Thursday Girl? We have a drummer. I’m on top of the world.”

“Because if you had a problem with it, we could—”

“I like the dude, Jess. He’s a good fit. Plenty of fish in the sea. Did you see me dancing with Tori Ashe?”

I laughed. “Yep, but isn’t that a conflict of interest?”

“Or sleeping with the enemy. That sounds hotter. What changed your mind about Grayson?” he asked as we reached the VW.

“Dunno. Game-time decision, I guess.”

“So it had nothing to do with him being six degrees of separation from the little blonde? And that might mean she could possibly show up somewhere we’re playing?”

“Nah.”

We got into the car and sat a moment while it warmed up. Was Madison the reason I suddenly thought Grayson was a good match? Of course not—he was good, and we’d grow as a band, on common ground. I knew that’s why T wanted him—the other guy was too good . . . as ridiculous as it sounded. There was something I had to admit, though.

“I mean, it wouldn’t suck if she came to see us.”

Tanner smiled and looked out the passenger’s-side window. “I knew it.”