Lydia was Lydia still;
untamed, unabashed, wild, noisy, and fearless.
— Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice,
Volume III, Chapter Nine
“I’m back! Let the parties begin!”
Dead silence. My gaze flickered over the frozen faces at my old lunch table, then around the cafeteria. Kids at other tables were staring at me, too, and I heard a buzz of recognition, but the kids at my own table didn’t say a word. My crowd didn’t say a word. Was I speaking Swahili? I mean, it wasn’t like they didn’t remember me. Everyone at Woodbury High School knew me. Half of them worshipped me.
A year away at reform school didn’t change that, did it?
Frowning, I glanced across the cafeteria, zeroing in on my sister Cat, who was sitting with Jeremy Fisk, who’d never been part of our crowd. No wonder Cat wasn’t at our old table: she was either shut out or too embarrassed. I knew she’d been dating Jeremy for six months now, but it was still weird. I’d been home for ten days, and she hadn’t bothered to warn me how things stood with our crowd. With my crowd.
“Lydia. You’re back. It’s been ages.”
“Hey, Tess. Yeah, they finally sprang me.”
My mom and dad told me not to put it that way, not even to friends, but Dad was the one who shipped me to reform school a year ago, and Mom didn’t exactly stop him, and I didn’t give a rat’s ass what either of them thought.
Grinning, I glanced at Tess O’Halloran and set my tray down in the empty spot next to her. Finally. Someone I could talk to, really talk to, despite all the snotty things Cat said about Tess in all her emails last spring. We’d always been close. I could count on Tess.
She turned back to Amber Tomlinson, though, on the other side of her, which put me right back where I’d started: with no one talking to me. Or acting like I belonged here.
What the fuck? I owned this school, and every one of these kids knew it.
I ran a hand through my hair, still thick but short now, thanks to a year in Shangri-La. It almost killed me to cut it, but I would’ve done anything to reduce the odds of that repulsive witch, Shannon, yanking it out by the roots. Shannon didn’t last past February, but not because they sprang her for good behavior. She torched the headmaster’s office.
But Shannon wasn’t my problem anymore. When I flew home from Montana, I thought I didn’t have any problems except Mom and Dad, who should really get a new phone number, 1-800-LECTURE, since that’s all they did these days. And, okay, Cat avoided me, which qualified as a slight problem, but it had to be because she had this loser boyfriend. After three classes and now lunch on my first day back, though, I realized Cat wasn’t my problem. Mom and Dad weren’t my problem.
It was the whole entire school.
“Lydia. Hey.”
I glanced to my right, where Drew Mitchell was smiling at me the way Cat used to smile at him. On the other side of Drew, a girl with bleach-blond hair was watching me like a hawk.
“Drew. How’re you doing?”
He patted the girl’s arm. Whatever. “Good. You know Chelsea?”
I shook my head as I sized her up. Beady eyes, too much makeup, one arm draped over Drew’s shoulder now. Yep, definitely Drew’s girlfriend.
She snorted. “You’re that girl who spent last year at reform school? How did that work out for you?”
I frowned as her snotty giggle was joined by a few others, including Amber’s. None of the guys laughed, though, including Drew, which told me one thing hadn’t changed. The guys all still wanted to go out with me.
They just didn’t realize I didn’t have much interest. Still, I wouldn’t mind spending a little quality time with Drew, just enough to wipe that snotty smirk off Chelsea’s face.
And maybe teach Cat a lesson while I was at it.
As I pondered exactly what I planned to do with Drew, preferably with Chelsea watching, I gave the little witch an evil grin of my own. “It worked out just fine. But I see Drew hasn’t done so well for himself lately.”
Chelsea’s fat mouth formed a perfect “O” of bright-red lipstick, probably the only perfect thing about her, as Drew gave her a comforting pat on the arm. Tess and Amber stopped giggling, since they knew me a lot better than Chelsea did. They knew I played to win.
At least when provoked.
As I fluttered my eyelashes at Chelsea, I couldn’t help noticing that Drew was totally checking me out. As if he knew exactly what I planned to do with him and didn’t even want to wait until the end of lunch period.
When I touched the tip of my tongue to the corner of my mouth, Drew swallowed hard. Chelsea grabbed her tray and stood up, jerking Drew along with her.
“See you l-later?” Drew’s voice cracked, probably for the first time since eighth grade.
“Definitely.” I gave Chelsea a little finger wave as her face turned green. “Can’t wait.”
I curled up on my bed after school, the window open wide to let in the September breeze. I still hadn’t gotten used to seeing an open window and not wanting to make a lunge for freedom. But I was home, back in my old room and—almost—in my old life, and the only wardens in sight were Mom and Dad. Who weren’t even in sight right now.
Mary’s mangy old cat, Boris, padded softly through the open doorway, and I wondered again why Mary hadn’t taken the stupid thing with her when she left for MIT. If she thought this reject from an animal shelter was the perfect homecoming gift for me, she had to be kidding. I knew I should’ve slammed my bedroom door the instant I came upstairs, but I hated closed doors even more than closed windows.
Boris’s orange-and-puke-striped tail swished in the air, almost like he was happy to see me. Doubtful. If I didn’t count the slobbering guys, no one in Woodbury, Minnesota, was happy to see me these days.
Boris, though, took a flying leap and landed his sorry mongrel ass on my bed, then moved into my arms and purred on cue.
Stupid cat.
Another Cat, my twin, walked into the room with the same wariness I now aimed at everyone in Woodbury. Despite myself, I hugged Boris a little tighter. “What happened to your old boyfriend, Drew?”
She just frowned as she crossed to her own bed and started emptying her backpack onto it. Like she was going to start studying. On the first day of school, when no one gave homework, or at least no one did it.
She pulled out a sketchpad. No wonder. Little Miss Art Freak probably planned to draw a portrait of a former convict who’d gone straight.
Ignoring Boris, I lay back on my bed and held my pillow in front of my face.
When she still didn’t say anything, I peeled back a corner of the pillow. Her sketchpad was nowhere in sight, and she wasn’t even looking at me. She was doing homework. The Cat I knew only read beauty and gossip magazines. Just like I used to do. Before I spent a year in Shangri-La.
I tossed my pillow aside, which sent Boris shooting off my bed and skidding across the floor to take cover in the closet. With one eye on him, I propped my head on my elbow. “Is that for school? Like, you actually do homework these days? What happened to the Cat I knew and loved?”
Cat’s eyebrows went up, but she didn’t say anything.
“And I asked you about Drew. What’s up? Why aren’t you with him, and who’s that skanky chick he’s with?”
Cat’s book was propped open, but I knew she wasn’t reading. I mean, she couldn’t be. I was talking to her.
Finally, she sighed. “She’s Chelsea Anderson, and I never was dating Drew.”
“Practically.”
“Besides, I’m going out with Jeremy. Like I’ve told you a million times.”
“Yeah, I don’t get that, either. He’s not part of our crowd. We’ve always stayed within the crowd.”
Okay, I hadn’t, but the guys I’d gone out with at Woodbury High always moved on. Like, quickly. It wasn’t tough to find new guys, but it was a little squicky to hook up with a bunch of guys who were all friends.
Which was why Justin had seemed so great. Even though he hadn’t been. As it turned out.
“I told you.” Cat abandoned the book, but she perched on the edge of her bed as if she was about to leave. Without telling me, let alone inviting me along. “I dropped that crowd, and I’m glad Jeremy isn’t part of it. Really glad.”
“You’re just saying that because Tess and Kirk busted your chops. I can’t believe you fell for that.”
Cat shot to her feet. “Yeah, well, whatever. Catch you later.”
I jumped off my bed and followed her to the door, but not before she grabbed the handle and yanked it shut. When I whipped it open again, she’d already reached the bottom of the stairs and headed out the front door. By the time I got my shoes back on and ran after her, our electric-blue Jeep rumbled to life and peeled out from the curb. Leaving me here alone.
It had to be a first. But after I got done with Cat, it wouldn’t happen again.
Wednesday afternoon, after another boring lunch punctuated by Tess’s random giggles at pretty much anything anyone said—except me—my nose wrinkled as I read all the activities notices plastered on the bulletin board outside the principal’s office. Why I was standing outside Mr. Paymar’s office, I had no idea, since the thought of him always had a ring of detention to it. Volleyball, the fall musical, Spanish club, Robotics, Gender & Sexuality Alliance, Super Smash Brothers, whatever that was. My eyes flickered over SADD: Students Against Destructive Decisions. I could be the President of it.
It was all stupid. Boring. Pointless. Besides, a year at Shangri-La hadn’t exactly turned me into a joiner, unlike a certain twin sister of mine who didn’t even seem embarrassed to hang with her boyfriend at the art freaks’ lunch table.
My gaze kept scanning the activities, maybe because I wasn’t in any hurry to get to Accounting I. It was mind-numbingly boring, even if Dad said it would come in handy for a girl like me. Whatever that meant. I saw a notice for gymnastics tryouts, but they didn’t start until November. I bit my lip, considering, but flushed the idea. A year and a half ago, I’d spent two months in the weight room and on the gymnastics equipment, working out to get in shape to join the circus for the summer. It had actually felt great and paid off when I got the job.
Too bad I lost the job on my second day, then left town with Justin Truesdale and, by the end of the summer, lost everything that mattered.
The warning bell for fourth period rang just as someone’s arm wrapped around my waist. “Are you signing up for something?”
Turning, I found myself in Drew’s arms. The only surprise was how he’d ditched Chelsea so quickly.
I winked at him. “You?”
I could swear his heart rate jumped. “Why me?”
Because it would piss off Chelsea and maybe even Cat? Because I was bored? Because hardly anyone else was even talking to me?
“Because you’re cute?”
He was, actually. Cat had been madly in love with him since forever—another reason why the Jeremy thing didn’t make any sense—so I’d always left him alone. But I had to admit his ripped biceps were mildly drool-worthy. I could also see why Cat would want to run her hands through his tousled dark hair, and his smoky eyes hinted he was a guy with secrets.
After knowing him as long as I had, though, I thought the only secret was why he’d hook up with a skank like Chelsea.
Not that I was bitter about her “accidentally” slamming into my chair at lunch today and spilling her lemonade on my arm in the process. Not at all. Especially after I tossed my Coke in her face.
Accidentally, of course.
Drew glanced over his shoulder, almost as if he was thinking about Chelsea, too, before he turned back and gazed into my eyes. Like he wanted to be romantic. Lucky thing I don’t gag easily.
“Hey, let’s get together. Do you want to—”
“Drew? Aren’t you coming to class? Like, now?”
At the sound of the snotty voice behind us, Drew and I both whirled. Sure enough, Chelsea. Not happy. Go figure.
Still, he had the guts to glance back at me. “Later?”
My eyes glittered as I did a head-to-toe sweep of Chelsea just to amuse myself. She wasn’t worth looking at more than once, if you know what I mean, and she actually looked stupid in that miniskirt and killer heels she sure hadn’t been wearing yesterday. “Or sooner?”
With a last glance at the bulletin board, I headed down the hall in the opposite direction from Drew and Chelsea. I had a feeling “sooner” would happen sooner than I wanted.
I dragged my butt into Accounting class five seconds after the bell rang, but Ms. Frey didn’t skip a beat in her scribbling on the board, let alone yell at me. Cool. I stifled a groan, though, as I slid past her and found my assigned seat. More homework. They’d piled on homework at Shangri-La, too, but there the teachers, counselors, and other hired thugs found even more creative ways to wreck a girl’s day.
“Welcome to Torture 101.” The goth chick leaning across the aisle to slide something underneath my notebook gave me a smirk. “Lauren. Lauren Kjelstad. You look like you could use a little pick-me-up.”
I started to reach under my notebook, trying to guess what the goth chick would be giving me. Chocolate? But she didn’t seem like the perky, have-a-nice-day, cheerleader type. Understatement. “Lydia Bennet. Thanks. I—”
“Girls? Are you writing down tonight’s homework assignment or already making weekend plans?”
I grinned at Ms. Frey, who seemed to have a sense of humor, even though her English accent reminded me of those no-nonsense teachers in English boarding schools in the movies. Besides, I hadn’t actually done anything wrong, and Ms. Frey didn’t look scary as she glided up the aisle between Lauren and me. Seeing her long flowered skirt and flowing peach top, I lifted an eyebrow. She was a bit ruffly for an accounting teacher, even one straight off the boat from England.
When Ms. Frey was five feet away, Lauren suddenly lurched to her feet and knocked all the books off my desk. What the hell?
“Lauren?” Ms. Frey halted in front of my desk as I stooped down, scrambling to pick up my books with no help whatsoever from the goth chick. “What are you and Lydia doing?”
As I grabbed the pen that had rolled under the guy’s desk next to me, I straightened my spine. I was used to taking crap from teachers, but only if I deserved it. “Hey, I wasn’t doing anything. She knocked over my books.” I twisted sideways to glare at Lauren, whose face looked chalky white against her ratty black hair and black lipstick. “And I don’t have a clue why.”
The guy on the other side of me snorted. Whirling on him, I whipped him the bird.
Ms. Frey frowned at me, but I stared her down. I was not going down on the second day of school, especially when it was the goth chick’s fault. Finally, after a long moment, she turned to the goth chick. “Lauren, do you have something you’d like to show me?”
She shook her head furiously, and the smirk on her face was gone. So was half of her black lipstick, since she seemed to be chewing her lips off.
Ms. Frey held out a hand. Toward Lauren, luckily, not me. But Lauren kept shaking her head. What was it? Gum? Candy? She slid something under my notebook, but it hadn’t been on the floor where all of my other stuff landed.
My mind raced. She must’ve grabbed whatever it was when she sent my books flying, but what was it? And why did half the kids in class seem to think I knew?
When Ms. Frey kept standing there looking grim, Lauren suddenly shot out of her seat, dodged the hand that Ms. Frey held out, and flew out the door. When I looked back at Ms. Frey, her lips were pursed.
And she was staring at me.
“I swear I don’t know what’s going on.”
Her nostrils flared, not too attractively and not exactly what I’d pictured from the English rose she’d seemed to be up until now, but she finally gave a small head shake and walked back to the front of the room.
“Class, we’re going to work on checking accounts today. Keeping a checkbook, balancing your account, etc. Eyes toward the front of the room, please.”
That last bit was actually for my benefit, because until that moment every kid in class was staring at me.
But not because they thought I was cool.
That night, after Cat finally deigned to grace me with her presence, I leaned back on my pillow, watching her. Totally for lack of better things to do, I also cuddled Boris. He had to be the ugliest cat in the universe, which must be why Mary adopted him from that animal shelter.
“Do you know Lauren Kjelstad?”
Cat wrinkled her nose. “I heard. Since when do you hang out with her?”
I frowned. “I don’t. I just asked if you know her.”
“No one knows her.” She made little quote marks in the air to emphasize her point. “At least, no one wants to. I mean, except for the other druggies. She—”
Cat broke off, clapping a hand over her mouth and suddenly staring at the floor.
“She what?”
Gaze still fixed on the floor, Cat just shook her head.
I let go of Boris, who curled into a mangy ball next to my backpack on the end of my bed. Crossing the room, I willed Cat to look at me. She grabbed a book—Catcher in the Rye, which I had to read for English 12, too—and pretended to read it.
I grabbed it out of her hands. “Spill. I don’t know Lauren, just met her today in Accounting class before she shoved all my books on the floor. For no reason.”
Cat ran a hand through her long hair, making me wish mine still looked like that. Not that guys seemed to care one way or another as long as they thought a girl put out. “You haven’t been gone that long.”
“A year.” I shrugged, even though it felt more like five years. “Not long at all.”
She rolled her eyes. “Lauren has a reputation, and it’s bad. I heard she was dealing drugs to you in class today.”
“She was not!” I glared so hard at Cat, my eyes actually hurt. “Who said?”
“Everyone?”
“And you believed it? Even though I don’t do drugs?” Alcohol was cheaper and more predictable when it came to what it did to me.
Cat looked around the room. At everything except me.
“You know I don’t do drugs. Never did.”
She finally met my gaze—and then looked away again. “The thing is, I don’t know you anymore. After what you did that summer—”
“Believe me, it wasn’t a good summer.” Understatement.
She rolled her eyes, but I hadn’t told her everything. I hadn’t told anyone. “Then you were at reform school with all those kids, and God knows what they do, and everyone figures you’d probably do anything at this point. Including hang out with a girl like Lauren.”
I sucked in a harsh breath, choking on it. “Even . . . you?”
Head down, she picked at a loose thread on her bedspread, almost like she wasn’t going to answer.
“I guess. Yeah. I do.”