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and future trophy wife, attached herself to my side like glue. And that’s the type of girl I spent my time with. Superficial and beautiful. Just like me.
    “We need to talk,” she said right off the bat, without even a hello.
    “So talk,” I said, not stopping my stride. I wanted to get to Lit so I could get a seat as far away from Dovey as I could.
    “Not here. Why don’t we go to Portia’s Pastries after school?” She stroked my arm.
    I halted. She’d been acting odd lately, almost as if she wanted more from me. Which was crazy because our hooking up had stopped back in October.
    And I’d made it clear the sex was over. No particular reason. Just didn’t want her getting attached. We’d grown up together and had been friends more than anything. I kinda felt sorry for her because I got how messed up her home life was with a dad who was a famous televangelist. But she’d never be my girlfriend. I didn’t do girlfriends. I didn’t do relationship responsibility. Not since Dovey.
    I tapped my fingers against my jeans. “Spill, Emma. What’s eating you lately?”
    Before she could answer, thunder rumbled and lightning struck in a loud bam! outside the building. “What was that?” she shrieked, sliding in closer to me.
    “A thunderstorm,” I said, pulling away, not in the mood for drama. “Happens all the time, Emma. Nothing to freak out about. Just another day…”
    My voice dropped off, and my stomach sank so fast it made me queasy. I fell back against the locker, my mouth dry as sandpaper.
    Today .
    February 7.
    The day my mother killed herself.
    And somehow I’d forgotten? I shook my head, disgusted with myself.
    “Cuba?” Emma asked. “What’s wrong with you?” She got up in my face, her overpowering perfume making my nausea spike.
    “Nothing. Just tired,” I said. “Give me a minute.” I pinched the bridge of my nose and inhaled sharply, sucking in fresh air as she moved away.
    No wonder I’d been operating in a weird kind of fog. No wonder I’d broken my stand-off and looked at Dovey.
    A long whistle came from my left side. “Cuba, my man,” Sebastian said, slapping me on the back. “You ready for your update on the sweetheart dance?”
    I nodded, ignoring the cement in my stomach. Of course, I didn’t give a shit about the dance, but for him I’d pretend. He’d moved here from Los Angles in August, joined the football team, and we’d promptly become a duo over the past few months.
    The light to my dark.
    And because he was a fun guy, he’d been nominated to head-up the planning committee for the end of the season athletic banquet. He took his job very seriously.
    He broke it down for me, his voice animated. “First off, I got the venue booked at The Dorchester in downtown Dallas. It’s got a fucking giant ballroom. And, I got the Hummer limo you requested, but we gotta find some girls to ride in it. Don’t think that will be a problem though,” he said with a grin, his eyes lingering on Emma.
    She flicked her hair.
    I pushed up off the locker, trying to act normal when I felt anything but. “Did you decide about the band?” He’d been talking about his band, Vital Rejects, but he’d needed to clear it with his brother first.
    “Yep. Vital Rejects is all set to play. It’s going to be on . I can’t wait to do my thing on stage.” His grin faded. “Dude. You look like shit. You good?”
    “Fine,” I said, faking a smile. Lie until it becomes the truth, right?
    He gave me a hard look, like maybe he wanted to ask me more, but Emma took his attention.
    “I wanna hear more about this limo,” she said, fluttering her eyes at me and then at Sebastian. Covering her bases.
    “Me too. I want to ride in the limo,” April Novak squealed, clapping her hands together as she glided up and wrapped her arms around Sebastian’s waist.
    I grimaced. Personally, I didn’t like April. Last year, she’d screwed over Emma by sleeping with Matt, Emma’s ex. While they were still