I appeared to be the only student paying attention, so that’s why, when someone suddenly appeared behind the principal and snatched the microphone out of his hand, I had time to mutter a select curse word under my breath before everyone else realized what was going on.

“Shut up, you sons of bitches!” Jude’s voice vibrated the room and everyone did just as requested.

The principal attempted to retrieve the microphone, but Jude lifted it over his head, which towered a good three feet above the poor, red-faced, principal. Jude shook his head once and peaked a brow. Whatever silent words the principal picked up from that look was enough for him to back away.

Lowering the microphone, Jude looked over at me, again knowing exactly where I was in this crowd of a couple thousand. His gaze lingered on me for another second before he turned his attention elsewhere.

“I put up with you bunch of bastards because I don’t give a damn what you all think of me,” he began, walking around the podium. “But I won’t for one second put up with you trying to ruin the reputation of an innocent girl.”

I wanted to look around the room, to experience the wide-eyed faces and jaws-to-the-bleachers mouths, but I couldn’t take my eyes off Jude. He was defending my honor and, whether he was going about the right or wrong way of doing so, it was the damn sexiest, most romantic thing I’d ever had happen to me.

“Lucy Larson is a friend. A friend whose back I have, and I think everyone knows if she were some random girl I screwed, I wouldn’t be up here now.” He paused, waiting or threatening anyone to stand up and say otherwise.

I’ll be honest, gauging the look on Jude’s face, I feared whoever might have stood up to object would be leaving today’s assembly in a body bag.

“If I so much as hear a quiet thought about her being a slut,” Jude’s fist clenched, as he seemed to make eye contact with every Southpointe High student, “you better hope you don’t like your legs because I’m going to break both of them.”

Now, to match everyone else’s, my mouth fell open.

“If anyone needs any further clarification on the matter, you can take it up with me in the parking lot.” He let that not so subtle warning hang in the air another minute before holding the microphone out for the principal.

The principal motioned to another administrator to take over before looking expectantly at Jude. Chuckling, Jude followed the principal off the auditorium stairs.

“It wouldn’t be a first day of school if I didn’t see you in my office before the end of fifth period, Mr. Ryder,” the principal sighed.

“Yeah, but this was a worthy cause, Principal Rudolph,” Jude answered, winking over at me before exiting the still silent gym.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Mom’s car was here. That was the first thing I noticed as I pulled up to the cabin after school. She was never home this early; it was like some mortal sin for her to leave the office before five.

So, of course, she’d choose the worst day I’d had in years to break this rule. I would have put the Mazda in reverse if she hadn’t been watching me from the kitchen window. She was waiting for me.

Just when you think there’s nowhere to go but up.

Unbuckling, I grabbed my backpack and set out to meet the inevitable. Opening the screen door, I inhaled and stepped inside.

Mom was sitting at the table, two glasses of tea steaming in front of her. The biggest smile my mom was capable of forming slid into position. “How was your first day?”

Epically awful. Worst first day of school in the history of the world. Humiliating. “Pretty good,” I answered, reaching for the cup of tea she extended.

“Anything special happen?” she asked, sounding interested.

I was nominated the school slut by the end of first period. “Not really,” I said with a shrug.

“Did you make any friends?” She took a sip of tea, still looking at me with that ghost of a smile.

I made a lot of enemies. “A few.” Lying shouldn’t come this easy.

“Did you see any familiar faces?”

My parents were pretty much the anti-fan of Jude. If they knew, they’d seriously consider pulling me out of Southpointe and bussing me to another school district or selling their internal organs on the black market to send me back to private school just to ensure I didn’t have to pass him in a hallway. While every other part of Southpointe blew, one very big part didn’t. Sure, I didn’t have, nor would I likely have any friends there, the curriculum was coursework I’d started in elementary school, and it was so old every hall, room, and wall smelt like an old gym bag.

But Jude was there. And somehow, nothing else mattered but that.

“Nope.” My voice broke, instantly alerting my mom. Okay, so lying wasn’t this easy. “I mean, it’s a big school. I’m sure they’ll be a few people I recognize eventually.”

“Hmm,” she murmured into her tea. She was up to something. I didn’t know what, but when any parent was “up to something,” it was never something good. “I could have sworn I saw a Southpointe bus stop at Last Chance Boys’ Home on my way to work.”

I wasn’t going to let her ruin my only bit of sunshine in that hell. “Is this the part where you’re waiting for me to reassure you that I really don’t mind—in fact it’s probably for the best—that I was pulled out of a private school my senior year because we’re broke, and I was tossed into some mega school that has metal detectors at every entrance?” I said, slamming my tea on the table. “Because maybe we can skip the BS and, for once, be honest with each other.”

She set her tea down, reaching for her temples. This was the first time mom had lowered her walls in ages; I didn’t know how to handle it.

“Have you heard back from Juilliard yet?” she asked, sounding weary.

I sighed, wishing I’d never applied in the first place. My self-confidence really didn’t need any more rejection. “Nope,” I said, trying to make it sound like I didn’t care, but darn it, I did.

I’d wanted to attend Juilliard before I could spell it. I was a dancer, it had defined my life since I could slip into my own tutu. I couldn’t imagine a better life than dancing across a stage in front of an audience until old age or weary legs stopped me, and Juilliard would give me that opportunity.

“It’s still early, Lucy,” she reassured, seeing right through my blasé act.

I lifted a shoulder. “We’ll see.” I’d applied to a few other state schools as a safety net, but they were just that. Only set to catch me if I failed at my goal.

Having had enough heart to heart for one day, I turned towards the stairs.

“Lucy?” I paused on the first stair, looking back. Mom was gazing at where my chopped hair curled over my shoulders. “How are you?”

After five years, she had to work harder than a cup of over-brewed tea and a few marginally concerned questions to earn the honest answer to that one. “Good,” I said, meeting her eyes.

“Really?”

Of course not really. I’d lost my entire family in the span of a day and had never gotten them back. And that was just the first link in the chain. “Really.” I moved up the stairs faster, but not quite fast enough.

“You know, Lucy, if you ever needed someone to talk to,” Mom’s voice trailed up the stairs, “I know I’d likely be dead last on that list, but I am here if you need me.”

I couldn’t have been more shocked if I’d looked down to find my legs had transformed into a mermaid tail.

“Uh,” I sputtered, searching for the right words. “Thanks, mom.” There, that worked.

Before any other transaction of the otherworldly could take place, I sprinted up the rest of the stairs and slid under my covers until I was dreaming about a boy with beautiful eyes and an ugly past.

Walking through the metal detectors on the second day seemed less outlandish, and the student’s stares that fell on me turned to smiles; a few even waved. By the end of first period, I was wondering if this was the same student body. Everyone greeted me in the halls, five people offered to let me borrow a pen in Trig when I asked, and one of Taylor’s apostles complimented me on my outfit choice. It was such a one-eighty from yesterday that either the entire student body had been lobotomized or Jude was a powerful player at Southpointe. A very powerful player.

I had my answer at the end of third period when I caught a glimpse of Jude walking down the hall a ways in front of me. The hall was packed, shoulder to shoulder, but wherever he walked, the crowd parted, like water breaking against an island.

I was so hypnotized watching him part the seas, I didn’t notice when a certain someone I’d been trying to avoid all morning nudged up against me.

“Hey, beautiful,” Sawyer said, tossing me a wink.

Oh, man. Did guys still get laid with this tired old line? If so, I’d bitch slap every last girl that fell for this one until I knocked some sense into them.

“Sawyer?” I said, glancing over. His high beam smile peaked higher. “Retire that line, will ya? It sucks.”

His face fell for the shortest window before it was back in all its Sawyer glory. “That was some assembly yesterday. Bound to go down in Southpointe history for sure,” he said, keeping pace with me as I sped up. I knew guys like Sawyer—they’d been a dime a dozen at my old school—and what didn’t work for me was that they were more boys than men, more talk than action. I was a man of action kind of girl.

“Yep, the trombone solo really kicked ass,” I said, playing dumb because I didn’t care and it was more fun.

Sawyer paused. I could see him scratching his internal head. “So you and Ryder, huh?”

Sawyer had bigger balls than I’d given him credit for. He was the first one to suggest Jude and I were an item in my presence. Gutsy given yesterday’s death threats. “We’re friends,” I said, trying to put some air between us so his shoulder wasn’t stroking mine every step.

“Friends?” he said. “Looked like more than that. It looked like something.”

I bit my lip before saying the first thing that came to mind. Just because I had a tendency towards anger didn’t mean I had to let my temper rule my life, although now was one of those moments I wished I’d let it off its leash.

“It’s nothing,” I said, ducking between a few students to get to my locker.

Sawyer glided up beside me. “Good,” he said, leaning into the next locker over. “That will make things easier when I take you to Homecoming.”

I don’t know how many revolutions I spun the combo on my locker, but it was more than ten and less than a hundred. The only thing worse than not having a date for homecoming would be having Sawyer as a date. He was the kind of guy that rented a hotel room before picking out a corsage and equated a lobster dinner with an all night sexathon.

“Let’s say I pick you up at eight?”

I didn’t know what day homecoming was, but I did know I didn’t want to go with him. I knew what I wanted to say to him in not so lady like language, but I didn’t know how to put my denial nicely. Couth had never been a strong suit of mine.