CHAPTER 8
“Have you submitted your deposit for Mullhound yet?” Daisy asked me Thursday after last period. She had her thumbs hooked around the tan straps of her backpack, rocking on her heels as I loaded up my bag. “Has Jamie submitted his for… Columbia?”
She’d spat out the college name like a curse. “I did Early Decision for Mullhound, so I paid that in January. Jamie’s deadline was the first.” I looked at her discreetly from the corner of my eye. “I know you were waitlisted by NYU, but are you… maybe… considering anywhere else?”
“Not really.”
“Well, I’d be happy if you stayed close,” I told her, grabbing the edge of my locker door and leaning my head against it as I watched her. “Mullhound is only an hour away, so I’ll still be around.”
The light in Daisy’s eyes dimmed. “Good,” she said with cheer. If I hadn’t seen her eyes change, I wouldn’t have known it was false. “I can’t imagine being away from my bestie.”
I wondered why she’d only applied to NYU.
It had been her dream forever, so it made sense to go all in, but surely a smaller graphic design school was better than nothing.
Secretly, I wondered if her family had something to do with it.
NYU was only a two-hour train ride from Addison—far enough, and close enough to come home if she had to.
Maybe Daisy hadn’t applied anywhere else because her family needed her… more than she let on.
“I can’t believe Jamie isn’t going to NYU, though,” Daisy went on, expression darkening further. “Columbia University? I didn’t even know he applied there. Did you?”
“My mom had us apply to a lot of places.” I pulled out my political science book. “She still even had me apply to a bunch of others.”
“But he dreamed of NYU. Not some stuffy college full of stuck-up rich kids. Yeah, Columbia is prestigious, and everyone would be impressed by him—but he never cared about that before!”
I lifted my head, and as I did so, I spotted Jamie a few feet from us in the hallway. He’d clearly heard the topic of conversation, freezing mid-stride like a deer in headlights.
“For years, we went on and on about going to NYU together, about being creative thinkers in one of the most creative colleges in the United States, and then he decides—when he can’t even tie a freaking tie, mind you—” Daisy suddenly stopped, having seen where Jamie now took a slow step backward. “Oh, perfect timing!”
At the fire in her voice, Jamie turned on his heel and started down the hallway in the opposite direction.
Daisy abandoned me entirely. “James Brighton!”
Jamie broke into a sprint, and Daisy gave chase.
Laughing under my breath, I shut my locker and threaded my arms through my backpack straps, following after them. I had no doubt that I’d turn the corner and find them arrested by Mr. Taylor, because running down Cardale’s hallway was an intense level of illegal.
They had, in fact, made it outside, but they hadn’t gotten much farther.
They stood side by side at the curb in front of a sleek maroon convertible.
Its top was down, and the cream leather interior gleamed in the sunlight.
A few other students gathered around the vehicle, jaws dropped as if they’d never seen a sports car in their lives.
I spotted a figure leaning against the spot above the back tire, their ripped-jean-clad legs stretched out a little bit in front of them, and I did a double-take. And then frowned.
You have got to be kidding.
Beck’s eyes were shielded by his mirrored sunglasses, his platinum blond hair tousled and almost glowing in the sunlight. He had his arms crossed loosely over his chest, basking in the attention of the students oohing and awing at a car that was most definitely not his.
And then he spotted me. “Eleanor.” He tipped his chin down, peering at me over the rim of his glasses. “Cute uniform.”
I gripped my backpack straps tighter, refusing to fidget with my skirt hem.
“He offered us a ride,” Daisy told me, sounding stunned. Not as angry with him like normal.
Of course he had. Why else would he have come and parked in the parent pickup lane of Cardale Preparatory? “Jamie,” I said to my brother instead. “Come on.”
I didn’t even get a step away before Daisy grabbed my wrist. “Nell.” Her eyes were locked onto mine. “It’s a convertible.”
“Have you never been in one?”
Wide-eyed, Daisy shook her head.
No way. She was not asking what I thought she was. I lowered my voice. “I thought you didn’t like him.”
She lowered hers, too. “I thought you said it wasn’t a big deal.”
“She’s never been in a convertible,” Beck echoed, tilting his head to the side. His lower lip pouted out. “C’mon, Nell.”
One of the guys gawking raised his hand. “If she doesn’t want to go, I do!”
“Sorry.” Beck used his knuckle to nudge his sunglasses back into place. “My car only carries pretty girls. And tall boys named Jamie.”
Jamie gave an amused eye roll. “If you two want to go, I’ll drive the car home,” he said to me, slipping his hand into his pocket and pulling out the car keys.
He gave the barest nod to me. Do this for Daisy.
I jerked my chin back at him. You do it for Daisy.
Jamie lifted his eyebrow, giving his keys a shake. You hate driving.
Fine. Point there. I hated driving more than I hated the idea of sitting silently in the passenger’s seat of Beck’s car. I could do this for Daisy. I would.
Beck straightened and came up to the passenger door, popping it open and waving a grand hand. “Hop in the back, Eleanor.”
“The back?”
“Daisy Dear is the one who wants the ride,” he pointed out, and smiled at her. “The bestie deserves the best seat.”
I watched, then and there, as Daisy’s guard fell. Her cheeks pinked almost as red as her hair, eyes excited at the prospect. She bit at her lip to hide her smile, thrusting her backpack into my arms. “I still don’t like you,” she said to him, turning to me. “You’re the best best friend, Nellie.”
Oh, sure, now you’re choosing to give him the warm shoulder.
“How come she gets to call you Nellie, hmm?” Beck murmured as I stepped up to him. I could only see my reflection staring back at me in the lens. “Because I’m me?”
The conversation we’d had over the phone last night rushed back at me, in a way that had my skin prickling.
You’re letting Pebble Brain shoot his shot. Why can’t I?
Because you’re you.
“It’s not as if you don’t do it anyway,” I grumbled.
To that, Beck just smirked.
Gritting my teeth, I awkwardly climbed over the passenger seat and into the back, careful not to let my skirt go up in the wind.
I shoved our backpacks into the corner as Beck flipped the passenger seat back down.
“All aboard,” he said as Daisy climbed in.
“Arms and legs clear of the closing doors.”
Daisy turned around in her seat to smile at me. “This is so cool!”
“Cool,” I repeated, hoping it sounded like I was agreeing with her, not questioning her taste.
Beck fell into the driver’s seat, starting up the engine, and it roared into the air. His music came to life, the beginning of “Teenage Dirtbag” kicking on. Beck grinned so widely that I caught a glimpse of teeth. The familiarity of it bolted through me.
“Before we begin,” he murmured, reaching up and adjusting the rearview mirror. He angled it so his eyes were perfectly in frame with mine. “Are we okay with a little speed?”
I scoffed. “Absolutely not—”
Daisy cut me off. “Yes!”
Beck needed no further encouragement. He slammed his foot down on the gas pedal, shooting us forward. Daisy let out a little shriek, but a joy-filled one. This was a bucket list check-off for her, apparently.
I clutched the strap of my buckled seatbelt over my lap, pulling it tighter, hating that I was such a good friend.
Beck didn’t take us directly home. Instead, he flipped his blinker and took us on the road that led out of town.
He maneuvered the wheel one-handed, his left arm resting on the edge of his door.
Once we were out of city limits, he floored it, the engine obeying his command with a snarl.
Daisy stuck her hands up to touch the wind as it barreled over the windshield, having the time of her life while that same wind whipped my hair around my face.
With one hand still on my seatbelt, I used the other to try to gather my hair into my fist. It would be a tangled mess after this. A mess probably filled with bugs.
Daisy reached over and twisted the volume dial up, the music now fighting with the engine to see which could be louder. The chorus practically hummed through my seat.
With his mirrored lenses, I couldn’t tell if—when—Beck looked at me through the rearview, which made it that much more unsettling. I had a feeling that every time his smirk widened, he was looking over, grinning at my scowl.
Beck took us down a few paved backroads, ones with a clear view of the road that stretched ahead. I couldn’t really see the speedometer from where I sat, but it didn’t feel like we were going that fast. Maybe five over.
Or maybe that was wishful thinking.
“Is this your car?” Daisy asked when we slowed.
Beck turned down the music. “Nah, it’s Aunt Ally’s. She’s letting me use it while I’m in town.”
“All summer,” Daisy said, as if she’d just remembered. “We have to do this again!”
“We’ll bring the less grumpy twin next time.” In the mirror, I saw Beck’s eyebrows lift once, mockingly.
I fought the urge to kick the back of his seat.
Daisy gave him the directions to her house, and we pulled up a few minutes later.
Daisy didn’t live in any of the HOAs Biscayne Park had, but in a cute two-story house on Hawthorne Street, about a ten-minute walk from my house.
It was small for a family of five, she said, but I always thought it was cozy.
I’d been inside a few times over the years, but she always insisted on coming to my house was a lot more fun.
More peaceful, she often said, since her siblings were always yelling.