Prologue
Isley
Fourteen Years Old
“C ome on, Isley,” Joanna urges.
“I don’t know. Maybe we shouldn’t,” I say.
“Don’t be a scaredy-cat. It’s just a game,” Candy says before turning to Joanna. “She is such a buzzkill sometimes, Jo.”
I stomp past her and grab the handle of the door that leads down to Joanna’s basement.
It’s Jo’s fifteenth birthday, and she invited five of her friends, me included, to her home for a party and sleepover. We filled our bellies with pizza and cake and settled in the living room in our pajamas to watch Can’t Buy Me Love . Everything was going well until her older brother, Evan, came in the front door, followed by Jason Snyder and Langford Tuttle.
They are juniors and members of the varsity football team.
The three of them devoured what was left of our pizza before making their way downstairs. Jo’s parents had purchased a pool table and some full-sized arcade games, and Evan and his friends like to barricade themselves down there, not allowing us to join them.
Which is fine with me. I’m awkward around boys. My brothers are always bringing their friends home to play basketball or to ride around on the quads and do whatever boys do when they’re together. I make myself scarce because I hate the constant teasing they throw my way.
Jason and Evan came back upstairs to grab sodas and asked if we wanted to join them for a game of spin the bottle. I definitely did not want to. I’ve never kissed anyone and the last thing I want is to have my first kiss in front of an audience. Candy and her best friend are the opposite. They’re game for anything. As soon the boys were out of sight, they and Joanna gained up on me.
When I make it to the bottom of the steps, Evan, Jason, and Langford are seated on the couches to the right. A large square coffee table in the middle holds a single glass Pepsi bottle.
The other girls file down behind me, all of them whispering and giggling as we join the boys.
“I’ll go first,” Candy says as she reaches for the bottle and gives it a fast whirl.
The neck of the bottle lands dead center at Evan’s chest.
She grins and crooks her finger to him. He leans over the board, Candy cups the back of his neck, and the two lock lips for at least thirty seconds.
“Gross,” Jo mumbles beside me.
“You’re next, Jason,” Evan says.
Scowling at his friend, Jason barely taps the bottle, causing it to purposely land on Joanna.
As she stands, he sneers at Evan because he’s going to kiss his little sister.
“Now, you go, Isley,” Joanna says as she sits back down beside me.
Not wanting to be the only one not participating, I close my eyes and give the bottle a spin. I blink my eyes open just as it slows to a snail’s pace and comes to a stop, pointed directly at Langford Tuttle.
The Langford Tuttle.
Every girl in the ninth grade has a crush on him or one of his brothers.
He is tall with dark hair, whiskey-colored eyes, and the famous Tuttle dimples, and he has the coolest car in school. A black 1966 Mustang convertible.
With my heart beating rapidly against my chest, I start to stand when Langford jumps to his feet.
He looks at Jason. “This is fucking stupid.”
“Come on, man. It’s just for fun,” Jason says.
“Not gonna happen. I’m out,” Langford says.
He walks toward the stairs, and Evan follows him. I slowly sit back down, the heat of embarrassment stinging my cheeks. Every eye is on me.
“I need to go to the bathroom,” I say abruptly as I stand again and dash toward the exit.
“For fuck’s sake, Evan, the girl has a mouthful of braces. I’m not making out with her.”
The words assault me like physical blows. He was whispering to Evan, but I have no doubt everyone heard his insult.
At that moment, mortification morphs into something else, something powerful. Red-hot hate.
Before I have a chance to run past them, the door flings open, and Jo’s dad appears.
“What are you guys doing down there?” he asks Evan.
“Nothing.”
“No, sir. Move it back up here. Now!” he demands.
“Fine, Dad.”
“We have to go back upstairs, guys,” Evan shouts.
Tonight will be the last time anyone decides I’m not worthy of their kiss, and Langford Tuttle is going to be sorry.