Chapter Ten

Kassidy

#5—Start a new school

My alarm blares, the incessant buzzing startling me awake. With my eyes closed, I roll over. Throwing out my arm, I swat in the general vicinity of the sound. Miraculously, my palm makes contact with the correct button. Glorious silence blankets me. As I absently toss off my covers, I imagine going on a run, making my smoothie, and then hanging out here reading and lounging around the rest of the day. Then it hits me. Only the first two items will get checked off my list

It’s my first day of school.

Ugh.

Groaning, I sit up. A slight headache pricks at the back of my eyes. Turning to the side, my neck aches. I stretch my arms toward the ceiling, hoping to work out the kinks in my neck and body. And that’s when it hits me.

A stiff neck.

A headache.

Maybe it’s something more serious. My body goes hot and my heart rate picks up. By the time I slide off the bed, my breath is coming out in sharp spurts, and I feel nauseous.

Is this a panic attack or something else?

Weight crushes my chest. I stumble out of my room. The walls sway around me. My lungs burn as if they’re on fire.

Is this what a heart attack feels like?

Am I dying?

“Mom?” I call out in a shaky voice when I reach her door.

“Kass?” Her muffled voice replies. I hear the rustling of covers, the shuffling of feet. The door opens, and Mom’s worried face greets me. “You okay?”

I shake my head. “I think something’s wrong. I have a headache…and a stiff neck.” My gaze meets hers, waiting for understanding.

Instead, she sighs, a frown painting her face. “You probably just kinked your neck in your sleep.”

It’s what most people would think. But I’m not most people. Not anymore. “But what if that’s not it? What if it’s—more than that?”

Mom nods. “Can you move your neck? Touch your chin to your chest.”

I do as I’m told. It moves easily, and in fact, it’s feeling less sore by the minute. My headache rages on, though. Reaching out, Mom places a cool hand over my forehead.

“No fever.” She catches my eye. “I really think you’re just nervous about today, but you don’t feel hot.” I take hold of her words, repeating them in my head over and over, wanting to believe them. “Why don’t you go on your run and see how you feel afterward?”

I force myself to agree. As I picture myself jogging down the street, my chest expands, some of the panic dissipating. Yeah, a run always makes me feel better. It’s actually why I started running. My parents had suggested it, and it seemed to help. Once I got my adrenaline going I felt less agitated, less worried. Besides, I am nervous about today. That’s probably all this is.

Whirling around, I hurry to my room. I’ve wasted precious running time with my little panic attack. I quickly throw on my running clothes. Once my hair is pulled into a tight ponytail and my shoes are laced up, I head outside.

The air is crisp and cool, smelling of grass and damp asphalt. Fall is my favorite season in Oakhollow. I love when the leaves change color, painting the trees in auburn, orange, and gold. I love the cooler temperatures. And I love when the neighbors decorate with pumpkins and scarecrows. Everything about it feels cozy and festive.

I start jogging. Icy air skates over my skin. My legs find a rhythm and pretty soon my heart is beating at a good pace, my body warming.

I let the anxiety of the morning slide away. My neck no longer feels sore and kinked, and my headache is almost gone.

By the time I finish my run, the sun is bright in the sky and cars begin to fill up the roads.

Mom is up making breakfast when I enter the kitchen. She turns, spatula in hand.

“Feeling better?” she asks.

“Much.” I wipe sweat from my brow.

“Good.” She smiles briefly as I walk over to the fridge.

After making my smoothie, I head to my room. Butterflies attack my stomach as I get ready for school. Who switches schools their senior year? It’s crazy. At Hamilton, I know everyone. At Oakhollow I know literally one person, sort of.

After getting dressed, I head to Sophie’s room.

Her eyes widen. “Oh, my gosh. You’re actually wearing it.”

I glance down at the top. “You swear it looks okay?”

“Yes,” she assures me, and I feel instant relief. I want to look my best for Archer. Her gaze travels up to my head and her nose scrunches. “Are you keeping your hair like that?”

Reaching up, I finger my messy bun. “Why? You think I shouldn’t?”

She shakes her head.

My stomach sinks. “It’s probably all kinked now. I don’t have time to straighten it.”

“I can fix it for you real fast,” she says excitedly.

“Okay.” I look at the makeup lining Sophie’s dresser. “And—um—maybe you could give me some makeup tips.”

“Really?” A broad smile sweeps her face. “I’ve been waiting for this day forever.” Practically shaking with excitement, she hurries to her dresser. “Okay, let me just grab my contour palette, my highlighter—ooh, and maybe some shimmer shadow.” Her head bounces up. “And I just got this really cool décolletage sparkle. It would look amazing with that top.”

“Huh?” I didn’t even think my sister knew a word that big.

“You know, for your chest.”

“You want me to put sparkles on my chest?”

What have I gotten myself into?

…

My hands are slick as I drive to school. I wipe them alternately on the thighs of my jeans. With quivering fingers, I turn up the volume on my playlist. It’s a Wine Stains song. If Kate were in the car, she’d ask me to turn it off. But she’s not. I can play it as loud as I want. Gone are the days of letting her dictate my life. I’m on my own now.

At a stoplight, I check my face in the mirror. I should’ve let Sophie give me a makeover before now. At first I was worried she’d overdo it, but she didn’t. It’s still me, just slightly upgraded. Kassidy 2.0.

And, thankfully, my chest is sparkle-free.

I wonder what Archer will think about the new look.

Archer’s good looking, easy to talk to, and not like a lot of jerks his age. He seems too good to be true.

The nearer I get to the school, the more my stomach flutters. Oakhollow High appears huge compared to Hamilton. It’s not that I’ve never seen the high school. Driving through town, I’ve passed it thousands of times. But this is the first time I’m really looking at it.

When I pull into the parking lot, my phone buzzes on the seat. Archer’s name lights up the screen. After guiding my car into an empty space, I pick up my phone and read the text.

Archer: I’m here. Parked near the library.

Me: Okay. I’ll find you.

Exiting the car, I scour the lot. Students are everywhere, talking and laughing, messing around. There are even a few couples making out against their cars. I blow out a breath. You’d never see this at Hamilton. There were strict rules about PDA.

After finding the library, I catch a glimpse of Archer leaning against a blue minivan. He’s wearing jeans and a T-shirt, similar to what he had on at the concert. His hair is tousled as if he didn’t take the time to fix it this morning. It’s the kind of thing that would irk my sister, but I like it.

When he spots me, a smile spreads across his face, and all my doubts vanish. Grinning back, I head in his direction. My nerves gradually calm with each step. By the time I reach him, I’m not nervous at all. Excited is more like it.

By the look on his face, he seems excited, too. At least I hope so.

“Hey.” He pushes off the van and takes a few steps toward me.

We’re so close I can smell traces of soap and mint toothpaste. “Hey,” I respond. Way to be original, Kass.

“You made it.” He rubs the back of his neck with his hand.

I laugh without meaning to. “Well, I didn’t really have a choice. It is the first day of school, and I do go here now…” The words trail off as I realize I’m being rude.

His cheeks redden. “Yeah, I guess that was a stupid thing to say. I just meant that you made it early…to meet me…” Shaking his head, he says, “Man, I’m usually so smooth.”

My head spins. I’m not the type of girl that makes guys nervous. Sophie and Kate make guys nervous. I make them comfortable. It’s why I get friend-zoned so early on. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve liked a guy, thinking they liked me, only to find out later that they had a crush on Kate or one of my other friends, and they were using me to get close to them because I was the approachable one.

“Hopefully you’re smoother than this when you spit,” I joke, remembering last night’s text. My pulse skitters beneath my flesh. I’m not usually flirty.

“Oh. Right.” He laughs, running a hand through his hair.

“You’re not chickening out, are you?” Raising an eyebrow, I cross my arms over my chest. What has gotten into me?

“Never. I just need a minute to prepare.” He rolls his shoulders, stretching his neck from side to side as if preparing for a race. “Okay. Okay. I think I got it.” Bouncing his head up and down, he starts. “Uh uh, yo. First day of school, chilling with Kassidy. If I was allergic to hot girls, then I would sneeze. My name is Archer, my rhymes are fire. We can go on a date, if you so desire.”

My face flames. Is he serious? His teasing smile makes it impossible to tell.

“Archer!” A girl’s squeal interrupts us before I can say anything in response to the rap. Archer’s head bobs up, a groan escaping through his frowning lips.

Curious, I turn to look. The girl running in our direction is gorgeous—blond hair, blue eyes, curvy. She almost looks like a model in her designer jeans, strappy sandals, and tight shirt. Not the kind of girl to elicit a groan and frown. Confused, I purse my lips.

“Hi, Archer,” she says breathlessly once she reaches us. Her gaze flickers over to me momentarily, but then she glances away as if I’m insignificant. It shouldn’t bother me, but it does.

“Hey, Tiffany,” Archer responds drily.

“Talk to your brother lately?” Her eyes sparkle.

He nods.

“Has he said anything about me?”

He shakes his head.

“Oh.” Her lips lower. After taking a deep breath, she looks at Archer with renewed purpose. Reaching out, she touches his arm. Flinching, he pulls back. “It would mean a lot to me if you’d put in a good word. I’d be very grateful. If you know what I mean.”

“You’re unbelievable,” he says under his breath.

Her mouth opens into a large O, and her doe eyes make her appear much more innocent than she probably is. “Archer,” she says in a whiny voice.

“If you wanna talk to Ross, do it yourself,” he snarls.

“Fine.” Huffing, Tiffany stalks off.

Swallowing hard, I glance at Archer. His jaw is set, his mouth pressed together.

“Sorry about that,” he says, still staring straight ahead.

“You have nothing to be sorry about,” I say. “She’s the one who should be.”

His head swings in my direction, a smile inching up his face. I’m glad I can make him smile. It looks good on him.

“Archer.” A guy walks in our direction, a crooked smile on his face.

“Hey, John.” Archer sweeps an arm out toward me. “This is Kassidy. She’s new here.”

John juts out a hand. With an involuntary shudder, I take his hand in mine. “Nice to meet you.”

Germs are stupid. I can’t freak out in front of these guys.

I’m grateful when the handshake is over and I can release his hand. That doesn’t stop him from continuing to stare at me, though.

“So, how do you know this dork?” John asks, indicating Archer.

“We met at the Playlisters concert,” Archer answers for me.

“Ah, I see.” He pins me with a curious stare. “So, you’re a Playlister fan, huh?”

“Nope.” Smiling, I shake my head. “Right now, I’m pretty impressed with Archer’s rapping skills.” My gaze collides with Archer’s, and his face colors.

Archer swaggers forward, his hips so close they almost press to mine. “You liked that, huh?”

Biting my lip, I nod.

John bursts into laughter. “Archer? Rap? Nah, he sucks.”

My stomach drops. I had been hoping we could revisit that last line of the rap. Was he asking me out, or being silly? I’m not really a fan of that type of music, so I can’t be sure how seriously to take it.

Archer whirls around. “What? I got mad rap skills. I’ll battle you right now.”

“Oh, my God! Is that Ross Devlin?” A male voice booms. My insides churn. It must be awful to be constantly mistaken for someone else.

“Shut up, Mac,” Archer answers with a laugh.

“So, you’re not Ross Devlin? Oh, man!” Mac continues. “But I was hoping you could give me your autograph.” Shimmying, he pulls up his shirt. “Right here on my chest.”

My cheeks warm at the sight of this stranger’s chest. Not that it’s that great. It’s pale and a little flabby.

“You wish.” Archer chuckles, shoving at his friend.

“Man, you guys are gross,” John mutters under his breath.

“You’re just jealous I didn’t ask for your autograph,” Mac says. Then his gaze slides over to me. “You must be Kassidy.”

I freeze, surprised that he knows who I am.

“Mac is my best friend,” Archer explains. It’s weird hearing a guy refer to another one as his best friend, and my heart warms.

“So, he didn’t really mistake you for your brother,” I say with a smile. “And he wasn’t really desperate for an autograph.” With a slight giggle, I add, “Well, that’s a relief.”

Mac and Archer grin.

“Nah, I’ve known Ross almost my whole life. I don’t want that clown’s autograph,” Mac responds. “This guy’s autograph will be worth more one day. Mark my words.” He points his thumb in Archer’s direction, and now I see it. The reason they’re best friends. They may joke and tease, but clearly this guy has his back.

“Really?” I raise a brow. “And what will you be famous for?”

He shrugs. “I won’t be. Mac’s just playing around.”

I know there’s more to it than that, but I let it go. Two girls walk in our direction. One is blond and the other is brunette. They’re wearing T-shirt dresses and sandals, their hair falling in waves down their shoulders. Self-conscious, I bite my lower lip. I’m glad I let Sophie help me this morning.

“Ella!” Archer calls out, motioning to the two girls.

The brunette’s head bounces up, a smile instantly leaping to her face. “Hey, Archer.”

My stomach sours. I know that look. She likes him.

“Ella, Hope,” Archer addresses the two girls when they approach. “This is Kassidy. She’s new here.”

“Nice to meet you.” Ella smiles, but it’s clearly forced. Hope looks on curiously. She’s probably thinking the same thing I am. If he can have either one of them, why would he choose me?