enough I can absolve myself of my sins. She lights the cigarette and takes short puffs without inhaling. âDid you do something different with your makeup?â I shake my head. âHaley put something in my hair.â âThat must be it.â Christy looks back toward the house. âWe might be able to fix this. Itâs not like youâre in love with Austin or anything, right?â In love? The fact that he even noticed me is an anomaly in itself. Even Iâm not foolish enough to pretend that love is part of the equation. âI just met him.â âAnd nothing happened?â âI swear.â More than anything, I want to get out of here. To run back to my coach before it turns back into a pumpkin. Too soon, the clock will strike midnight and Iâll have to fade back into my reality. Once Prince Charming sobers up and realizes he can have Haley, he wonât be making the rounds with any glass slippers. âSo? How do we fix this?â I ask. Christyâs plan is simple. The old bait and switch. Haley will go into Austinâs bedroom in my place. Once Austin sees her, heâll forget all about me. Itâs practically a fait accompli . Guys donât say no to Haley Marvell. I wait outside while Christy goes in to save my friendship and kill any hope of a budding romance. I find an empty spot along the wall where I can be alone, more comfortable than Iâve been all night. I know the second Blake walks outside. The skin on the back of my neck burns under his fiery gaze. I turn to face him, every instinct telling me to meet him from a position of strength. He stops about fifteen feet away, his face indecisive. I want him closer. Much, much closer. Christy brushes past Blake as she rushes up to me. âItâs done.â Blake turns away and walks back into the house. I feel sick. âI think it worked. Haleyâs in with Austin now.â Christy claps her hands together. âIâm sure weâll hear all about it tomorrow.â So I have that to look forward to. Christy reaches into her pocket. âOh, Haley said to give you this.â She sets the broken charm bracelet into my palm. Itâs hardly a fair trade. Itâs not until we reach the car that I realize I never asked Blake how he knew my grandmaâs nickname for me. My stomach lurches. Iâm definitely going to be sick.
F O UR I pour myself a glass of orange juice before I can think better of it. The smell is at once sweet and repulsive. It sits on the kitchen table, untouched. Dad looks like a bad quilt, in a plaid bathrobe wrapped around a set of flannel pajamas. He brings me a cup of coffee, the newspaper tucked under his arm. The mug says Paxton Insurance ServicesâBecause your life is your most valuable asset . If Mom was up, Iâd get the one with her picture on it and the tagline Cyndi Paxton sells dreams! The Paxtons are big on branding. He catches me frowning at the mug. âSomeday youâll have your own: Brianna Paxton saves the world .â Dad has been teasing me about being some kind of environmental extremist ever since I announced my plans to study biology in the eighth grade. He doesnât realize that science is my escape, not my calling. When I donât answer, Dad pulls the sports section out and skims the front page. âHeading out to see Piece of Meat?â âHis nameâs Dart.â âWell, donât go getting attached.â This is shorthand for Dadâs Lecture Number 376, That Horse is Just an Investment . The full lecture includes reminders that the money we used to buy Dart off the racetrack came from my college fund, and that Iâll have to sell him before I can apply for college in the fall. It goes on from there, but thankfully today Dad is more interested in the Padresâ opening week than my progress with training and selling Dart. Or not. Dad pushes the corner of the paper down.