Marni Bates

KENSINGTON PUBLISHING CORP. www.kensingtonbooks.com

Chapter 1

t never should have happened. Oh sure, in the movies, the geeky girl gets the guy, but lets all get real for a second: High school doesnt actually work like that. No way. The absurdly sweet (yet popular) guy might continue being tutored by the geek, but he also keeps making out with his beautiful ex-girlfriend until they decide to give their relationship another shot. Thats how it should have worked, but apparently my good luck had run out a long time ago. Because even as I gazed into the gray eyes of my perfect hockey-captain ex-boyfriend, Logan Beckett, and put it all on the line: told him point-blank that I missed him and wanted to get back togetherI knew it was too little, too late. Instead of kissing me back when I leaned in and pressed my lips against his, he took a step away. His eyes were full of pity. Im sorry, Chelsea. I just . . . dont feel the same way about you anymore. Then he glanced over at his best friend Spencers house and everything sort of clicked into place. He wasnt throwing away everything good that was still between us because he hadnt forgiven me for my middle-school mistake. Oh no, he was rmly rejecting me, Chelsea Halloway, because he was more interested in dating the most awkward girl at our high

Marni Bates

school. Actually, thanks to an embarrassing YouTube video, Mackenzie Wellesley had accidentally raised her prole beyond the hallways of Smith High School until she became best known as Americas Most Awkward Girl. Yet he was still choosing her over me. It didnt make the slightest difference that Id been in the midst of pouring out my freaking heart to him when he shot me down. That I was willing to grovel for ever breaking up with him and explain that, regardless of the rumors circulating in the wake of our breakup (mainly that I was ecstatic to have traded Logan in for a more popular high school boy), Id been a wreck over our split. But instead of hearing me out and then sweeping me off my feet in a passionate kiss . . . he just shook his head. Sorry, Chels. Take care of yourself, okay? Ive got to Go. He had to scurry off to locate the girl who was so much smarter and sweeter and better than me in nearly every way. Leaving me, quite literally, out in the cold. No amount of pain from our rst breakup had prepared me for this level of hurt. Nothing compared to smiling until my cheeks ached while I watched Logan leading a stumbling Mackenzie to his car with a transparent affection he never once showed me. And I couldnt even cry without becoming fodder for another round of rumors. Hey, did you hear that Chelsea had a total meltdown at Spencers party? Girl has some serious issues, if you ask me. That was what I would have to pretend not to hear following me down hallways . . . into classrooms . . . even into the dressing room of Mrs. Ps School of Ballet. So I did exactly what everyone expected of me. I tossed my long, shiny, blond hair over my shoulder, sauntered over to the nearest, hottest available guy, and began irting like I didnt have a care in the world. As if my heart hadnt just been trampled over with a Logan-shaped foot-

NOTABLE

print. But I forced myself to keep my voice even and my eyes dry because even the slightest crack in appearances could be enough to de-throne me as the Queen of the Notables. Which is why, instead of bawling my eyes out, I batted my baby blues at some guy whose name I didnt bother to learn before making my getaway. My mom always instructed me that it was best to leave them wanting more. Of course, she had said that in the context of my dance recitals, but it applied to irting too. In both cases, it takes a lot of practice to hide sweat, nerves, and performance anxiety, but if you let any of it show, it kills the magic. And I had spent enough time faking happiness that I could irt while replaying exactly how it felt to have Logans lips against mine one last timesoaring hope and an overwhelming sense of rightness as my body recognized that this was exactly where I belonged. But apparently Logan hadnt felt any of it. I maintained that stupid fake smile even after a stranger splashed beer on my shoes as I headed toward the door. It was only when I was driving home that I began ranting to myself about the cosmic unfairness of realizing that I had never gotten over my rst love only to nd out that he had denitely gotten over me. But it became pretty obvious when I pulled into my driveway that my night wasnt about to get any better. Because waiting for me by the door was my dads suitcase. I had his teaching schedule memorized, and I knew for a fact that there were no upcoming academic conferences scribbled on the kitchen calendar for months. There was no logical reason for his luggage to be slumped against one of our enormous ceramic owerpots. Unless I was nally getting to see the closing night performance of the divorce walk of blame. Not just a trial separation. Not a temporary experiment.

Marni Bates

Not something that would blow over eventually, like it always did. Nope, this time he was really leaving. And you would think that losing both Logan and my father in one night would forever earn it the terrible distinction of being the very worst evening of my life. My personal alltime low. Rock freaking bottom. But it wasnt. Its funny how being hunted down by a group of certiable bad guys in a third-world country can change a girls perspective on what constitutes a tragedy. Not ha-ha funny, obviously. Its more of a laughing is my only alternative to disintegrating into a million pieces type of funny. When your every decision is a matter of life or death, even truly ridiculous amounts of personal drama fade into insignicance. Hunt or be hunted. Hide or . . . wind up with a gun aimed at your head. I found that out the hard way.