Voted Most Likely To

Chapter 1

MOST LIKELY TO SUCCEED

The library is my favorite place on campus.

The first bell won’t ring for another twenty minutes, so I find a small table tucked away behind the bookshelves, only big enough for two chairs, and pull out my laptop.

I want to look at my GPA and class rank one last time before the official start of my senior year.

A few clicks later, I allow the smile that has been desperately tugging at the corners of my lips to spread.

I’ve won. Or, at least, I will.

Late night studying sessions, taking advantage of every extra credit opportunity, a bonus AP class over the summer.

All my hard work has paid off, and I’ve solidified my spot at the top of my graduating class.

My smile grows as I realize everything I’ve worked so hard for the last three years is finally within my reach.

I just need to focus for one more year, and then I’m free.

With a satisfied sigh, I relax in my chair.

“What are you doing?”

My heart jumps, and I straighten back up immediately. Slamming my laptop shut, I look up. My brain registers the familiar voice as I take in her appearance. Red hair, pale skin, green eyes, and thin lips pulled into a disapproving frown.

Lily.

I put a hand to my chest and release a slow breath, trying to convince my heart that this isn’t a fight or flight moment—just my annoying best friend who knew where to find me even when I was trying to be alone. I glare at her. “You scared me,”

“Don’t give me that look, Ella.” She plops down in the empty seat across from me. “If it weren’t for me, you’d be staring at your GPA for the next hour and would miss the morning assembly altogether.”

My fingers run over the smooth lid of my computer. “I wasn’t staring at…” The words die on my lips when I see Lily’s raised brows. I wince. “How did you know?”

Lily laughs, any annoyance in her expression replaced with a smile. “How did I know that my over-achieving best friend was in her favorite hiding place on campus looking at her grades?” She taps her finger to her lips. “No clue.”

I slide my laptop off the table to put it in my backpack. “I just wanted to look.”

“Because you haven’t looked at it recently?”

I don’t say anything.

“I swear, you’re worse than that little gremlin thing and his ring.”

“Do you mean Gollum?”

She motions at the top of her head. “Is that the thing with the stringy hair and terrible posture?”

I blink at her. It’s not like I’m some hardcore Lord of the Rings fan, but I thought the basic plot was pretty common knowledge. “Yeah.”

She smiles brightly. “Then yes. You’re like Gollum with your grades.” Her voice is gravelly when she adds, “My special.”

Now I know she’s messing with me. I clear my throat. “Precious.”

Lily tips her chin in a small bow. “Thank you.”

“No...” I shake my head. “The ring is his precious, not his special.”

“Whatever. Your grades are your”—she lifts her hands to make air quotes—“precious.”

I slump back in my seat. It’s not like I’m the only one who cares about grades.

Citrus Prep is one of the most prestigious and expensive private schools in Central Florida.

Parents send their kids here because they want them to get into great colleges.

Lily just likes to give me a hard time because I’m slightly more obsessive over my grades than most. And why wouldn’t I be?

Being valedictorian is the only way to earn the title of Citrus Scholar—and the accompanying prize is no small thing.

Whoever is named Citrus Scholar gets a full-ride to the college of their choice.

“Come on. We’re going to be late.” Lily slings her backpack over her shoulder.

I follow her out into the hallway, and Lily loops her arm in mine as we head toward the auditorium.

Considerably more people are here now than when I first got to school.

Loud shrieks of first day reunions echo off the tile floors and metal lockers.

I catch small snippets of conversations as we walk down the hall.

Everyone is talking about their summer vacations, class schedules, and who hooked up with whom over the break.

I pull my arm back from Lily and step behind her so we can squeeze through a particularly dense group of students blocking the hall. Lily’s ponytail sways with her every step, acting as a beacon as we push our way past the human walls.

Once we maneuver to the other side, she bumps her shoulder against mine. “So, how is the GPA looking? Still the highest in the grade?”

“Maybe.”

“And I’m assuming that you think it will stay there?”

“Yep.” If I manage to get a 94 or higher in all my classes this year, there’s no way I won’t get valedictorian—even if the person who is right behind me gets straight 100s in all of theirs. My lead is too great at this point.

“So, it’s in the bag?”

I nod.

“You finally beat Connor.”

My lips curve up in a smile. I did…well, I will. But it’s more than beating him. I turn to her as we continue down the hall. “It’s about Citrus Scholar,” I argue for my sake as much as hers.

“But also about beating Connor.”

“And getting away from my psychotic family.”

“And finally beating Connor Williams,” she says, her voice taking on a sing-song quality.

A beat passes before I squeeze my hands at my sides and squeal. “Yes, and finally beating Connor-freaking-Williams.”

Connor and I have been competing against one another since before we were born.

At least that’s what our mothers used to say—back when they still talked.

Both due on the same day, Connor graced the world with his presence three days early, giving him a head start I’ll never get back.

Everything has been a competition since.

I spoke my first words while he was still babbling. He started walking while I was crawling. Report cards, standardized testing, the amount of service hours we’ve earned—they've all been tallies in our respective columns as we got closer to the most important competition of all.

Citrus Scholar.

And I’ve won.

An image of Connor standing in the second-place spot of a podium with his arms crossed and a giant pout pops into my head which makes me laugh.

It must be contagious because Lily joins in without even knowing the childish direction of my thoughts.

We giggle as we push against the double doors that lead outside.

The August humidity pushes against my skin and into my lungs as soon as we step outside. It takes precisely point-eight seconds for me to start sweating and I pray my deodorant works as hard as I do.

Lily and I step down from the brick steps of the Bates building and cut across an expansive space of green toward the auditorium.

The large grassy field known as The Yard is directly in the center of campus.

The imposing brick buildings of Citrus Preparatory surround the green space like a mini Central Park.

Instead of large, stone fountains and horse-drawn carriages, we have Spikeball and soccer balls.

Even in the short time we have to make it to the auditorium, some upperclassmen boys have paused their walk to throw a football back and forth.

Lily and I give them a wide berth so we don’t get knocked over by the impromptu game.

Soon, that all too familiar movement and the backdrop of brick buildings I’ve grown accustomed to will become distant memories.

As excited as I am to graduate, there’s an unexpected pang of sorrow with it.

After this year, everything will be different.

“I didn’t think this day would actually come.” I don’t have to tell Lily what I mean. She already knows.

“Soon, we’ll be at different schools with different lives.”

“At least there’s an entire school year ahead of us. We can have after school coffee dates and weekend slumber parties and—”

A male head with a mop of messy blond hair materializes between us, cutting me off.

Hardy, the third in our little trio, slings his arms around both of our shoulders.

“Did someone say slumber party?” He flashes a wide grin at us.

“Thanks so much for asking. I’d love to come.

” He pauses and waggles his brows. “Will there be pillow fights?”

Lily wiggles out from underneath him. “Don’t be gross.”

Hardy takes his arm from my shoulder and puts it to his chest. “I only want to spend some quality time with some of Citrus Prep’s most outstanding students before we graduate. How is that gross?”

Even though her voice is firm, I don’t miss the slight pink tint to Lily’s cheeks. “You’re saying your question about pillow fights was totally harmless?”

“Isn’t that a normal part of a sleepover? I’m not sure what—” He cuts himself off as he feigns some deeper understanding. His voice becomes a scandalized whisper. “Wait. Did you think something else might happen? Lily, I’m appalled at the direction of your thoughts.”

“I’m sure you are.” She rolls her eyes before grabbing my arm and pulling me toward the auditorium. Her steps are hurried as we make our getaway.

“I’m not some piece of meat,” Hardy says loudly enough for us and many other nearby students to hear. “I’m more than just this hot body, you know.”

As we make our getaway, Hardy stays behind to talk to some nearby guys laughing at him.

“Are you ever going to put that poor guy out of his misery?” I ask. “He’s only been in love with you since sophomore year.” The blush returns, but she doesn’t say anything. “Would it be so bad to try?”

“And then have to worry about two people I care about leaving when we graduate in May? No, thank you.”

It’s a sore spot that I didn’t even realize was there and I keep my mouth shut as we walk under the brick arch entrance of the fine arts building.

Once inside, my eyes close in bliss as the air conditioning hits us. Someone bumps into me as they push by. “Feel like letting the rest of us in, Adams?”

My muscles tense. The mere sound of Connor’s voice is enough to raise all the hairs on my arms, but actually touching me?

It makes me want to run to the gym locker room and scrub my body to rid myself of his germs. I open my mouth to tell him exactly what he can do with himself but feel Lily’s hand on my arm.

“It’s not worth it,” she says.

Against my better judgment, I clamp my mouth shut as he and his stupid brown hair disappear down the hall and into the auditorium.

Using the bottom of my shirt, I wipe the Connor off of my skin.

“I just hate him so much. He thinks he’s so great because he got student class president even though it was a total popularity contest. And—”

“And,” Lily cuts me off, “he is not going to be this year’s valedictorian. He is not going to be the Citrus Scholar. So, let him be a jerk to you in the hallway, and let it go. In the end, it doesn’t really matter, right?”

Of course it matters. Just because I’m going to win doesn’t make it okay for Connor to be rude in the meantime.

I’ve spent the last three years on the receiving end of his wrath for something I didn’t do, and Lily knows just how hard that has been.

She’s also freaking out about senior year, and I don’t want to make things worse.

I release a long breath. “I guess you’re right.”

“I’m always right,” she says cheerfully. “Let’s just keep moving so we don’t make anyone else upset and find a seat inside.”