Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 93578 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 468(@200wpm)___ 374(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93578 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 468(@200wpm)___ 374(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
“I wonder if it’s true what she said about him.”
My belly cartwheeled. “I have no idea, and I’m not asking.”
Millie laughed. “No, I guess there’s no way you can be like, ‘Hey, I heard you like to tie women up and boss them around in the bedroom.’”
“People just like to talk.”
“Especially about that stuff,” Millie said. “Although if you see any whips, chains, or blindfolds in his closet, let me know. It seems so opposite his quiet personality, but you never know what people are like behind closed doors.”
I was curious about that closed door but needed to focus on my problem. “Anyway, what am I going to do about tonight?”
“Why go at all? Just don’t show.”
“Because I’m catering some appetizers, which I had to beg to do, because the reunion chairwoman wanted to go with one caterer, and she didn’t want everything vegetarian. But I thought it would be good publicity.”
“Maybe you can just drop them off.”
“I don’t want to be that person, Millie.” My voice rose as I sat up. “I don’t want to be intimidated by people. I want to prove to myself that I can hold my head up in front of Mimi Pepper-Peabody, even with terrible bangs.”
“Okay, okay.” Millie’s tone was more gentle. “Who the heck is Mimi Pepper-Peabody?”
“She’s the reunion chair, a girl I went to school with. Beautiful, popular, you know the type.”
“A mean girl?”
I sighed. “That’s tricky. It’s not like she was outwardly mean to my face, but she had a way of cutting you down without looking like she was doing it. If I got a bloody nose in class, instead of privately asking me if I needed a tissue, she’d yell out, ‘Ew! Felicity’s nose is gushing buckets of blood, and it’s so gross!’ And everyone would either laugh or say how disgusting it was.”
“Um, that’s outwardly mean.”
“Yeah, I guess it is.” I played with the frayed hem of my T-shirt. “But she was so popular, she could get away with anything.”
“Well, tonight’s your chance to tell her to go fuck herself.”
I laughed. “That’s not my style.”
“Fine. So go show her that being popular in high school doesn’t mean shit once high school is over. And you never know, maybe she lost her looks. Maybe karma caught up with her and all her hair fell out from bleaching it too much. Maybe she has ten big warts on her nose.”
“Nope. I see her around town and she looks the same as she did back then.” I could see my reflection in the mirror over my dresser. “And so do I.”
“Still. She can’t make you feel bad about yourself if you don’t let her.”
“I won’t let her,” I decided, pushing my glasses up my nose.
No doubt that would be easier if I had America’s youngest self-made billionaire on my arm. Maybe I hadn’t come that far since high school, but Hutton had, and some of his shine might rub off on me.
I closed my eyes and imagined myself walking into the reunion with Hutton, me decked out in a minidress and heels, Hutton wearing the hell out of a suit and tie, jaws dropping all around the room.
Could that really be Felicity MacAllister and Hutton French, Mathletes and band geeks? They're so cool, so polished, so classy!
Smiling, I opened my eyes and dialed his number.
TWO
HUTTON
I used to think I was magic.
As a kid, I honestly believed I could control the world just by doing certain things.
Touching my nose as I entered a room.
Stepping out of bed with my right foot first, never my left.
Refusing to ride on the left side of the back seat in my dad’s car, only the right. This often meant I had to race out to the driveway early in order to beat my big sister Allie, who did not have magical powers no matter where she sat in the car, but did have an incredible knack for pushing my buttons.
If the trip involved the highway, I had to sit with my arms crossed without saying a word until ten cars passed. If I saw a tractor or motorcycle, I had to start over.
If the trip in the car did not involve the highway, I had to hold my feet off the floor the entire time, or at least until we passed two stop signs or one traffic light.
By doing these rituals but never speaking of them (or else the magic would cease to work), I was ensuring that all stayed right in my world, which was pretty fucking great back then.
In fifth grade, I was one of the most popular kids in school. I was good at math and baseball. I was on student council and in the band. I won the paper plate award for Most Likely to Go to Space and also an Astounding Attendance certificate, because I never missed a day of school. (Only I knew that was because being absent or even tardy would alter the balance of the universe and possibly weaken my powers, not because I was never sick.)