We Are Never Getting Together

Chapter 1

Madeline

Best friends ought to have your back or at least be happy to sneak into the boys’ locker room to commit crimes with you.

But no. As we walked there to pull an epic prank on Cooper Nash—reigning football jock—my best friend Selena peered nervously down the hall, her eyes darting around.

“If I get suspended, my parents will kill me.”

“If we get caught,” I said, “I’ll just say I meant to go into the girls’ locker room and got lost.”

Selena, ever too logical at the wrong times, said, “No one will believe that. We’re seniors and neither of us even takes PE. And how are you going to explain that you’re carrying a bag full of clown clothes?”

I shrugged. “The teachers don’t know what I do in my spare time.”

“This isn’t spare time,” Selena hissed. “We’re skipping class for this.”

I held up the clunky bathroom pass I carried. “That’s why we’ve got these. And technically the locker room is a bathroom.”

She fidgeted with her pass, twisting it in her hands. “I’m probably missing something important in calc right now, and my next homework assignment will reflect that.”

With Selena, life revolved around grades. “You mean you might get a ninety-eight percent instead of a hundred?”

She moaned and sent me a pointed look. “It’s a new school year.

Can’t you just let everything from last year go instead of being obsessed with getting revenge on Cooper?

” She said more, but it was all in Spanish and even though I’ve taken Spanish for three years, when Selena talks fast, I can’t understand most of what she says.

I held up a hand to stop her. “The guy covered my convertible with plastic wrap this year.” Specifically, a week after school started.

Granted, that was because I’d smeared Vaseline on his locker handle the day before, but that was a nearly harmless prank, and I’d only done it in retaliation for the glitter bomb he put in my backpack on the last day of our junior year.

I didn’t find it until I was home in my bedroom, so that was a fun discovery. When the air conditioner turns on, I still get puffs of glitter floating through my room. “It took me forever to get the plastic wrap off my car. I can’t just let that go.”

“You’re going to get caught one of these times. The pranks have to stop somewhere.”

The popular people already thought they could do whatever they wanted at school and the rest of us would just grin and bear it. Someone had to stand up to them.

I adjusted my shoulder bag. It contained not only a clown outfit but a wig, red ball nose, and oversized shoes.

I mean, what’s the point in doing things halfway?

“Right, and the pranks can stop after I steal his clothes and leave him these. Or in eight short months when the two of us graduate and never have to see each other again.” I patted the bag. “He’ll look cute in the shoes.”

She let out a martyred sigh. “I’ll stand as a lookout for you, but the first time a guy comes down the hallway and even seems like he’s thinking about going into the locker room, I’ll hightail it back to calc before you can answer your phone to hear my panicked warning.”

We reached the locker room door. Her head swiveled back and forth, making sure the hallway was still empty.

“You’re supposed to look natural,” I told her.

She glared at me and planted a hand on her hip. Selena took drama class with me last year, so you’d think she’d be able to pull off the character of a normal senior girl out in the hallway for no nefarious purposes.

I edged toward the door. “Find your motivation. Pretend you’ve got a crush on one of the jocks, and you’re waiting for him to come out of weight-lifting class. Channel your inner stalker.”

Her hand didn’t leave her hip. “Half the football team will probably catch you. If you get stuck in a locker, don’t ask me to storm the room to save you.”

Well, that went without saying. Selena was five foot four and so unathletic that people still talked about freshman PE when she did a face-plant while trying to clear a hurdle.

After that, the teacher let her skip the rest of the unit and gave her a pity A in the class for effort.

Selena still considers that the best bloody nose she ever got.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” she asked. “I bet the jocks have opinions about girls rummaging through their under-wear.”

“Ew. Do guys keep their underwear in their lockers?” That could be a serious drawback to this plan . . . or an added benefit if I could find someone to run Cooper’s up the flagpole.

“I don’t know,” she huffed. “I’ve never broken into a guy’s gym locker.”

“But you have a brother.”

“That’s not the sort of conversation I have with Diego.”

I only had an older sister. How would I know what brothers talked about?

Selena’s gaze swept the hallway again. “If I hear you screaming, I’ll call 911.”

I was stalling. Stupid nerves. Best to get this over with. I cracked the door open and peered inside. Benches, lockers, and the lingering smell of dirty clothes filled the room. No one was around. I had paid an informant for Cooper’s locker number and combination. Time to get my money’s worth.

I crept inside, every muscle braced like I expected sirens to go off. My footsteps sounded incriminatingly loud. I made a beeline to Cooper’s locker.

To be clear, I didn’t expect Cooper to actually put on the clown outfit.

He’d no doubt stay in his sweaty PE clothes after class since only one more period remained in the day.

But he’d get the message. Mess with Madeline Seibold, and you’ll end up looking like a clown.

It was an especially appropriate message because he sometimes referred to people he didn’t like as clowns.

My fingers shook, so twisting the combination took longer than it should’ve. I kept throwing glances at the door that led to the gym. Selena was keeping watch in the hallway, but I’d have no warning if some guy came in from the other direction.

Finally, the locker opened, and I pulled Cooper’s clothes out. No underwear, thank heavens, just jeans and a Dallas Cowboys T-shirt. I put the clown clothes inside—the wig and nose lovingly placed on top—and shut the door.

Done.

I dashed out of the locker room so fast that if the track team coach had seen it, she would’ve recruited me then and there.

A perfect heist. I made it back to the safety of the hallway.

“Mission accomplished,” I told Selena. “We’ve struck a blow against the arrogant, popular quarterback cartel.”

She headed away from the locker room and slid her phone into her pocket. “The entire time you were in there, I worried that a teacher would catch us, I’d get a zero for today’s assignment, and those points would be the reason I don’t make valedictorian.”

It would take more than one missed assignment to keep Selena from reaching that goal. “You worry too much,” I said.

“You don’t worry enough.”

As if summoned by her fears, the principal rounded the corner and saw us.

Crap. I hated it when Selena was right.

Mrs. Tsuru was a big, no-nonsense sort of woman whose hair was constantly tucked away in some brightly colored head wrap. Whenever my father came to school for a play or event, she was all smiles and honey with a booming laugh at his jokes, even if they weren’t that funny. Parents loved her.

But we in the trenches of Silver Creek High knew the other side of Mrs. Tsuru. The side that had no patience for teenagers and that thought we were always up to something—which, okay, in this situation was true. The woman could pin the bravest soul with one look over her glasses.

She gave us that look now.

Beside me, Selena whimpered.

“What are you two girls doing out of class?” Mrs. Tsuru asked.

I held up my pass. “Bathroom.”

Mrs. Tsuru kept walking toward us. “The two of you just happened to need to go to the bathroom at the same time?”

“No.” Because that would make us look guilty. “I needed some monthly supplies, you know . . . ” I sent Mrs. Tsuru a meaningful look. “And Selena had some in the girls’ locker room, so she gave them to me.”

A male teacher would’ve stopped me after the words “monthly supplies” and shooed us on our way.

Mrs. Tsuru considered us, unmoved. Probably because Selena’s eyes were wide with guilt. “You should’ve come to the nurse’s office,” Mrs. Tsuru said. “Instead, you’re disrupting Miss Alatorre’s education.”

I nodded penitently. “Sorry. Next time I’ll go to the nurse’s.”

“Next time, you should be more prepared. There’s a reason why they’re called monthly supplies. You know you’re going to need them every month.” Her gaze landed on the bag. “What’s in there?”

I heard Selena gulp.

“I had to change.” I lifted the bottom of Cooper’s jeans out of the bag to show her. “I always keep an extra pair in my PE locker for these kinds of situations.”

There is a point where you give people TMI, and apparently, I’d finally reached that moment with Mrs. Tsuru. She waved us to go past her. “Return to your classes, ladies.”

We didn’t wait to be told twice. Selena and I hurried down the hallway, not speaking until we were far away from the locker rooms. Then Selena put her hand to her chest. “She nearly caught us. I just saw my whole academic life flash before my eyes.”

“But she didn’t catch us.”

“I can’t believe we stood there discussing monthly supplies with the principal. I am irrevocably scarred.”

“It will all be worth it when Cooper opens his locker and pulls out my gift.” I hadn’t decided what to do with his jeans and T-shirt yet. If he’d had a car, I would’ve plastic-wrapped them to his windshield, but he always rode home from football with Henry Harris, the team captain.

Not that I paid that much attention to Cooper’s schedule. One just has to know pertinent facts about one’s nemesis, and I’d collected details about him ever since he spread lies about me last year.

He was the one who started this feud. He could stop it any time he chose. But if he didn’t, I had no choice but to stand up for myself. The popular people walked over enough people in the school. I wasn’t going to be one of them.