CHAPTER 1

"Indy! Come on, let's go."

I groaned as I rolled over on the grass. This so isn't my life. Why did P.E. have to be so hard anyway? Was it the goal of the coach to kill all of those who were seriously P.E. challenged? I needed an excuse card or something. Like one of those 'Get Out of Jail Free Cards.' In seventh grade my friend Gabby Mineyard had one made by her doctor,

because of some fictitious disease. Okay, so it probably wasn't fictitious, but I swear she was completely normal and could do anything at all during the summer-anything. Like ride a bike, go swimming, climb trees—anything. Until school started. Then it was the glorious "exempt from P.E. card" again.

"Indy!"

Maxton was still yelling at me. Couldn't he see I was in pain? As in suffering here? Whatever, it didn't matter. Ms. Bullington was going to come back around that field with the other runners any minute and chew me out anyway. Time to suck it up.

I groaned again for good measure and rolled over onto my knees. I took the hand offered me and got up. I was about to thank Maxton for being there, but to my knowledge Maxton's chest wasn't quite so large, or so tall either. I quickly jerked my head up and came face-to-face with the hottest junior in school, Bryant Bailey.

"What?" I asked, not willing to give him an inch this time. "Why are you here?"

A playful grin spread across his face. "Why are you so mean to me?"

I glared across his shoulder at Maxton for not telling me Bryant was there. He just shrugged back.

Then I turned my glare back to Bryant. "You need a warning bell or something so people can prepare when you show up." I pushed past him and grabbed my water bottle. Ms. Bullington angry at me, or not, there was no way I was sticking around P.E. another moment. Lamely literally I began to limp off the grass, across the track field and toward the building behind the bleachers. Dang my stupid foot anyway. I was always twisting my ankle when I attempted to run. Always.

Some people were born with grace, others were meant to watch graceful people from far away. Like miles away. It wasn't hard to guess which category of people I fit into.

Bryant followed me. Of course. "Are you really going to blow me off?"

I tried to whirl around, but I forgot about my foot. However, my foot didn't forget it was twisted and it reminded me—sharply—"Yeesh!" I headed straight. Apparently walking forward was better than turning around. "Do you expect something else, Bryant? Seriously? I could so kill you right now and you know it. In fact I'm pretty sure in seventeen states it'd be legal to kill you. Most people would call it self-defense."

He rolled his eyes, but matched his super long stride to my shorter one. "You can run all you want I'm still going to make it up to you one day."

"No you're not. I don't want you to. In fact, the best way to make anything up is to just leave me alone. Please."

"Do you really despise me that much?"

"Yes."

"Liar."

Urgh. What was I going to have to do to get this guy off my back? I stopped. "If you want to make it up to me, go away. I'm fine. I need some time alone to process it, not be reminded every five seconds."

"But I've apologized a hundred times. I had no idea it was there. I didn't see it. It was an accident. And every day I see you I feel awful. I'm not used to people acting like this around me. I don't even know what to do. I'm not some weird horrific guy—you've gotta give me a chance and let me make it up to you!"

All at once my heart was heavy and my foot hurt and my chest felt like the Hulk was squeezing it and I wanted out of this dang school. Away from Bryant Bailey and everyone else who ruined everything special in my life. I just wanted to not remember terrible things. Was that so hard here? Except every time I turned around there was Bryant again-caught up in his own psycho-codependency or something where he wanted everyone to like him and everything to be better. But you know what? I wasn't going to like him. Not now, not ever. And it was never going to be better.

So he needed to deal with it somewhere else. What's done was done and that's that. But to show up all the time attempting to make me feel happy or something was certainly not going to make anything better.

I opened the gym's outside door and limped inside.

"Cindy, please..."

This time I did whirl around as he came into the building. Ouch. "Cindy?" How did he know my real name? My mom's name. How did he know that name? No one knew that name. Not even Maxton and he knew me back when my mom was still alive.

He must've taken my facing him as a good sign, because in the next second he was holding my arm and looking deep into my eyes. "Will you forgive me?"

Didn't he hear a word I just said? I lost it. In retrospect I probably shouldn't have, but I was done. Yeah, I was a little mean, but this guy was getting border stalkerish and I was done. As in completely and totally done being reminded of everything that'd gone wrong in my life. And calling me Cindy was the last straw.

I pulled my arm away. "No, Bryant. I won't forgive you for killing my cat! That cat was from my mom. The last gift I'd got from her before she died in a car accident. Who just so happens to be who I'm named after. And until now was the only person who ever called me Cindy."

His eyes widened in shock and his mouth opened slightly. Thankfully he didn't speak or I might've punched him.

"Now, if you will kindly leave me alone to mourn the loss of the last gift I was ever given, one of my best friends—and no! I don't expect you to know anything about how awesome cats are, okay—but she was and now she's gone. Because you had to speed around by my street and"

He pulled me in for a big hug. "I'm sorry, Indy. I'm so, so sorry."

"And then to top it all off you come out with Cindy? Out of the blue! Where? Why? How?" I tried to push away but his arms were wrapped around too tightly. "You know what, I don't want to know. All I care about is when this pain will stop. When will I have time to think of happy things again and just be normal?"

He said it before I could. "Never. You'll never be the same again."

"No." I sniffed. And that's when I realized why he was hugging me so tight. "Dang it. I'm crying?" I pulled away this time and he let me go. Yep, the whole front of his shirt was wet.

Bryant Bailey made me cry. My sophomore year of high school. I hadn't cried since my mom died. Not when I had to move into my aunt and uncle's house and live in their creepy basement room, not when my cousins made fun of me and told me how ugly I was. And I didn't cry when I became their stupid servant, when my aunt went back to work and left me with all the chores since my cousins were too involved in after school activities to have time to clean. And I didn't even cry when Mrs. Wiggins, my cat died, I was too angry to cry. Yet, now here I was standing in the school gym and crying in front of the one guy I detested most.

And then I said it—the most immature words that had ever left my mouth-"I hate you." I cringed as soon as I said the words, but they were out and they were the truth, so I looked up at him-and saw Bryant for possibly the first time in my life. Really saw him.

His dark eyes searched mine, long and hard, as if they were prying out every single one of my secrets. This tall, extremely good-looking dark-haired prince-type guy just stared at me. He should've been chasing pretty girls at school, or working out in the weight room, or writing some amazing symphony that would make him incredibly famous, but instead he was standing here with me. Then those worried brows of his came together and his mouth turned down a little and he spoke the words that honestly broke me. I have no idea why-but later in my creepy basement room all alone I sobbed and sobbed and sobbed. For the first time in years I let everything out.

"I hate me too," he whispered.

And then he kissed me on the cheek and softly said, "Sorry," in my ear and then left.

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