Shuffle, Repeat(57)

In the car on the way to school, Mom says she’s proud of me. “But FYI, you still have a curfew.”

“That’s fair.”

“By the way, don’t drink too much at Michigan,” she says. “This type of headache…it really sucks.”

? ? ?

I miss homeroom, but I rush through the snowflake-strewn halls and into English just as the bell is ringing. I slide into my seat, my hair twisted into a still-damp knot atop my head. I had time to take a quick shower, but not enough to use a blow-dryer.

Everyone is laughing and chattering, and no one has their books with them. “We can’t,” Lily tells me. “They changed the locks on all the lockers.”

“She knows.” Shaun plops down next to us. “June helped.”

Lily stares at me. “Who are you?”

I don’t answer, because I’m still trying to figure that out for myself. Apparently I’m the awful cliché mess who has it bad for the boy everyone wants. I’m not sure if I’m more terrified of running into Oliver today and having to make small talk or of not seeing him at all.

Ms. Jackson doesn’t even try to have class. “I’m grading papers. Keep it to a dull roar.”

She sounds amused, which is why Shaun asks the question. “You’re actually not mad at us about the prank, are you?”

The corners of Ms. Jackson’s peach-slicked lips twitch upward. “Let’s just say I’m relieved my car isn’t covered in pigeon shit.”

The room bursts into uproarious laughter and she waves us toward the door. “Go.”

Every hallway is lined with students spinning dials and yanking against shackles before stepping to the next locker and trying again. After forty-five minutes, I finally find my combination lock on a locker by the math rooms. “Winner!” I shout, which is apparently what we’re supposed to do. Just like everyone else’s, my victory yell is met with cheering and applause.

It attracts the attention of Ainsley, because suddenly she’s right there with her arms around me. “We did it! We’re rock stars!”

I pat her on the back as Oliver arrives, brandishing a lock. My heart jolts when I see him. “Mine was on third,” he says. It appears that he is unaffected by exhaustion, because his eyes and hair and everything are as bright and perfect as always.

Ainsley gazes up at him with adoration. “Isn’t he a genius? Most epic prank ever and all because of him.” She rises on tiptoes to kiss Oliver, and it lands on me like a piano.

“I gotta go—” I start, but Ainsley suddenly grabs my arm.

“Oh my God, what are you doing for spring break? Kaylie flunked algebra, so her mom won’t let her go, and now we have an extra bed in the cabin. It’s in Cheboygan. Want to come?”

“June’s going to New York,” Oliver says quickly.

Actually, I’m not, because Dad got cast in a new play, so he’s going to be in rehearsals, but this is definitely not how or when I wish to share the information that the Grand Plans for my senior spring break involve me at my house with my mom. “Sorry,” I tell Ainsley. She hugs me again.

When I return her hug, my gaze accidentally floats up to Oliver’s face. We make eye contact and he smiles at me.

I look away.





Luckily for me—but unluckily for them—neither Darbs nor Lily has big spring break plans. That’s why we decide to schedule a Girl Day, when we go out to lunch before splurging on manicures and shopping. When we all have pretty fingernails, we hit a bookstore (my choice), then go kiosk-hopping in the mall (Lily’s), and then make our way to a craft store (Darbs’s).

“I like the soy wax,” Darbs tells us as we browse the candle-making aisle. “It’s better for carrying the essential oils.”

“How about this color?” Lily holds up a tube of light blue candle dye. “Look, it matches.”

She flutters a periwinkle-tipped hand at us and I look down at my own fingernails, painted a bright red. Halfway through the manicure, I realized I was channeling Marley Flagg with the color, but it was already too far gone to switch. Now I can see that I’ve already chipped my ring finger.

Figures.

“Are you hanging with any of your rah-rahs over spring break?” Darbs asks me. When she sees my quizzical look, she clarifies. “Cheerleaders. Jocks. Assholes.”

“Some of those *s are my friends,” I tell her.

“Seriously, June. Theo.”

“Gross,” says Lily.

“Not Theo,” I tell them. “Definitely not Theo.” I look at Darbs. “Are you hanging with Ethan?”

“Unclear.”

“If you’re not, Lily should go make out with him,” I say, and then Darbs and I crack up. Lily only blinks at us, so I explain. “Because I did it over summer break and Darbs did it over winter break, so spring break—your turn.”

“Actually, hold off on that,” Darbs says. We turn to her, surprised.

“You actually like him!” Lily accuses her.

“Maybe,” she says. “I don’t know. I just don’t want anyone else putting their tongue in his mouth yet.”

“That’s fair,” says Lily.

We reach the end of the aisle and round the corner to find Zoe Smith carrying a plastic store basket. After we all exchange hellos and commiserations about a lame spring break, she shows us what she’s buying. “They’re candy melts,” Zoe says. “All you have to do is cook them down and pour it into molds. They harden into chocolate candy, like magic.”