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s no humor in it — I ’ m not amused.
    “ D, you have to let someone in someday.
Maybe it can be her. ”
    “So look: the two new kids are Logan and Matty
Davidson.” I keep talking, filling Aiden in on the new kids, ignoring the
conversation he wants to have—again. I’m not having this discussion. I
live my life the way I want to live it. Nothing and no one is going to change
that.

Chapter 5
    Kayla
     
    As I sit in the front office of the school, waiting to
register Logan and Matty, I stare down at my iPhone and check emails. It keeps
me from focusing on the fact that I am in yet another office. I feel like I ’ m always in some kind of office. It
doesn ’ t
really matter where I ’ m at or what I ’ m doin g— they ’ re all the same. Fading yellow walls with chipped paint,
bone-colored metal filing cabinets, ancient computers that run way too slow
with a heavy hum , and disenchanted
individuals sitting behind crappy desks. I need a vacation.
    Dean
Wyatt ’ s
office isn ’ t
like that, though. It ’ s gorgeous. I could spend all day in
his office. Not with him in there, of course. The man is gorgeous, too, sure,
but boy is he an ass.
    Next
to me, Logan ’ s
knee bounces up and down, making the floor vibrate.
    “ Stop, ” I hear Matty say flatly. Logan snickers. “ Stop it! ” Matty repeats with a little more
emotion.
    “ Stop what? This? ”
    I
look up just in time to see Logan flick Matty ’ s ear. Matty gets up abruptly and
moves to the other side of me, away from his brother.
    “ Knock it off, Logan, ” I scold, shaking my head and frowning.
    “ Dude, stop being such a girl, ” Logan scoffs.
    “ Ms. Brooks? ” A middle-aged woman with wire-framed glasses calls from the
doorway of yet another office. She ’ s
attractive in a very stern type of way. The sign on the wall reads “ IMOGENE
SYLVESTER – PRINCIPAL .”
    “ Yes? ” I answer politely.
    “ Come on in, please. ”
    Standing,
I motion for Logan and Matty to follow me. I see her eyes scanning over them,
already making judgments.
    “ Have a seat. This shouldn ’ t take long, and then we can get the
boys to their classes. Logan, you ’ re a senior, right? ” she asks, sitting down at her desk and glancing at her
computer.
    “ Yup, ” Logan answers, his tone bored.
    “ And, Matthew, you ’ re a freshman? ” She looks up at him over the top of her glasses. Matty
nods.
    “ Here are all of their transfer documents, ” I say, handing her the files.
    “ Thank you, Ms. Brooks. ” She nods and opens the file. “ Do
either of the boys require an Individualized Education Program? ”
    “ No. ” I shake my head. “ They ’ re both currently on track. No IEPs
necessary. ” I glance at Logan, who has his head
back and is looking at the ceiling. He doesn ’ t put any effort into his schoolwork
and still has a 3.2 average. His SAT scores were 1,940 out of 2,400. He could
easily get into college, assuming he doesn ’ t do anything that will land his ass in jail first.
    Principal
Sylvester flips through the papers, sighing every now and then. I hate the
documents in those files. Every time a new placement or educator reads them,
they form preconceived notions of these kids — especially
Logan. He gets labeled as a troublemaker and degenerate. Talk about a
self-fulfilling prophecy. There are only so many times a kid can hear he ’ s hopeless before he starts to believe
it and wonders why he should make an attempt if it ’ s only going to end in failure.
    I ’ ve been telling both boys for years to ignore the comments.
Logan says he doesn ’ t give a shit, but I know he does. He wants to be a role
model for Matty but doesn ’ t know how, so he doesn ’ t even try.
    “ Hold on just a moment, ” Principal Sylvester says, standing. “ I ’ m going to give their previous schedules to Mrs. Fowler so
she can find openings in the appropriate classes while we finish speaking. ”
    When
she returns, she sits down, folding her