Hell, homecoming is the last thing on my mind. “Let’s change the subject, man. I don’t want to talk about Cassidy or homecoming. Or acquiesce, whatever that means. Talk so normal people can understand you.”

“Don’t you want to increase your vocab, Vic?”

“No.”

He shrugs. “Fine. So let’s talk about the fight you got yourself into last night,” Trey says. “You okay? I heard it was brutal.”

“Yeah. I mean, the dude totally clocked Heather.” I look down at my busted knuckles. I’d heard that Heather’s boyfriend was into boxing and stuff, but I had no clue he used her as a punching bag until last night when I saw him hit her at the beach. She tried to blow it off, saying it was the first time he’d been abusive to her.

I don’t give a shit if it was the first time or fiftieth time. The dude needed to know that you don’t hit a chick without consequences.

“I would have backed you up if I’d known about it,” Trey says.

Trey is in line to be valedictorian, and he’s always been squeaky-clean. He worries about his grades just as much as his reputation, which is why I didn’t want him getting involved in a fight that could have ended with the cops being called.

“I took care of it,” I tell him.

I always take care of business. Trey uses his words. I use my fists.

Unlike Trey, I don’t care about my grades because whether I study or not I do shitty on tests and quizzes. Being a dumbass in school is a curse I was born with.

Trey’s cell dings three times.

“It’s a text from Monika. Read it to me,” he says, refusing to text and drive. He doesn’t take his eyes off the road and his hands stay at the ten-and-two position like we were taught sophomore year in driver’s ed class. “What does she want?” he asks.

“She wants you to break up with her so I can date her.”

Trey chuckles. “Yeah, right. Vic, the day my girlfriend would go out with you is the day you get on the honor roll.”

That’s a true but depressing thought. “Well, that’s never gonna happen.”

“Exactly.” He gestures toward his cell. “So what did she say?”

“She said, ‘Hey.’”

“Text her ‘Hey’ back.”

I roll my eyes. “You guys are fuckin’ boring.”

“Oh yeah? If you acquired a girlfriend, what would you be texting her?”

“You don’t acquire a girlfriend, Trey. But if I had one, I’d text her a helluva lot more than ‘Hey.’ Especially if I had a vocabulary like yours.” I’d probably say something along the lines of how I thought about her all night and can’t get her out of my mind.

“I text my side chicks dirty stuff,” he jokes. “Do I get street cred for that?”

“Yeah, right.” Everyone knows that Trey and his girlfriend, Monika Fox, are inseparable and will most likely get married one day. He wouldn’t cheat on her.

The truth is, Trey has no clue I’ve been in love with Monika for years.

But he’s dating her, so under our unspoken Code of Bros, she’s eternally off-limits.

Even if I can’t get her out of my mind.

Chapter Two

MONIKA

I hate getting out of bed in the morning, even during the summer months when I can sleep until noon. Today is the first day of my senior year. When my alarm woke me at six this morning, I was reminded that summer vacation is over.

I shuffle, semi–hunched over, to the bathroom. After I brush my teeth, I stare at the medicine bottle on the counter. The pills are staring back at me, saying, “Take me!”

I pop one in my mouth and swallow it with a cupful of water.

“Monika!” Mom yells from the foyer. “You up?”

“Yeah!” I call out before I step in the shower.

“Good. I’m making your breakfast soon, so hurry up! I don’t want it to get cold.”

In the shower, I close my eyes and let the hot water wash over my body. When I get out, I feel a hundred times better… closer to normal. And when I walk downstairs in my cheerleading uniform, the required attire for cheerleaders on the first day of school, I’m pumped.

Adrenaline is racing through my veins. I’m ready for this. I feel great right now.

“You look so cute,” Mom says, kissing me on the cheek. My mother places a plate full of pancakes in the middle of the table and another plate with two eggs in front of me. “Here,” she says.

I laugh. “This is enough for the entire Fremont High student body, Mom.”