I laugh. “He hasn’t said anything to me. It’s just the way he looks at you.”

“Good to know. Thanks,” she says, and we finish running our laps together. On the last lap, Colleen and Jaime, these snotty girls, run by and give me strange looks.

“Bitches,” Vanessa says.

“Bitches,” I agree.

We bump fists and head into the locker room to change clothes. I’ve never been all that great at making girlfriends, but I like Vanessa. I smile over at her as I pull my gym bag from my locker.

Crazy that she’s interested in Rory, considering they come from very different lives. What will the other kids say when they hear about this? Will they wonder why Vanessa would date a farmhand?

That’s when it hits me: even if other people had a problem with it, Vanessa wouldn’t give a damn. I wish I could get away with not giving a damn.

After study hall in the library, I drag my fingers across locker doors on my way to the art room.

I discover Colton fast asleep on the sofa outside the guidance counselor’s office. Vanessa wasn’t kidding that he likes to sleep. When I look at the wall above the couch, I’m blinded by inspirational posters: CONFIDENCE, WINNING, COURAGE, TEAMWORK, DESTINY, CHARACTER.

Oh, my eyes. Why can’t there be an inspirational poster for BADASS?

Thinking about Rory and his dreams of going to college, I open a pamphlet about the ACT. I scan the information, reading about upcoming test dates and facilities and—

Shit.

Just taking the test costs $50.05! Why is nothing free? Or at least cheap! How are poor people supposed to plan for the damned future if everything costs so damned much? How can Rory afford the testing costs plus the application fees?

And what the hell is the five extra cents for?

I slip the pamphlet back in its slot and turn away, and run smack into Jack. He’s drinking a Capri Sun and carrying a blue camping cooler.

“Yvonne packed you an entire cooler?” I ask, giving my Velcro bag a dirty look.

He grins. “Sure did. She gave me string cheese. And a juice pouch!” He toasts me with the Capri Sun.

I shove his chest. “She gave you string cheese!”

“I might have one left,” he says with a wink.

“I want it!”

“You wouldn’t share your roast beef with me yesterday.”

“Yeah, well, you ate half of it anyway.”

“What were you looking at?” Jack asks, nodding at the wall of brochures. “Deciding when to take the ACT?”

“Oh, um, no—”

“Did you already take it? I’ve taken it twice but I’m gonna take it again because Dad thinks I can do better,” Jack says, sipping his juice pouch.

“I haven’t taken it.”

“You can borrow my study guides if you want. I’ve got a whole box of them.”

“I’m not taking the test.”

“You’re taking the SAT then?”

“No…I’m not applying anywhere, so there’s no reason to take the tests.”

“But what about college?” Jack asks.

“Why would I go to college? I can work as an exercise rider and make plenty of money. You have to, like, pay for college.”

“But don’t you want more?” Jack asks, furrowing his eyebrows.

“I do. That’s why I applied to be an exercise rider. Plus, a high school degree is worth a lot.”

Jack stares at me for a long time, sucking on his Capri Sun.

“Are you going to college?” I ask.

He looks shocked at my question. “Yeah. Probably nearby, so I can keep an eye on the farm. Maybe Vanderbilt. I’m gonna major in business and get my MBA, like my dad did.”

At my old school in Charles Town, only about half the graduates ended up going to college. The rest went on to work at the casino or a hotel, or got married.

Jack continues, “I have no idea why you wouldn’t go to college.”

I suck in air through my nose, dumbfounded that he doesn’t understand how little money I have. Is he clueless?

“My family could never afford it.” Hell, Cindy can’t afford to take one morning off work. Not to mention the root canal she needs.

He sips from his Capri Sun again. “Don’t your parents want more for you?”

“My dad’s really proud I’ve made it this far. I mean, he doesn’t have a high school degree or anything…neither he or Cindy went to college, and no one in their families have ever been…My mom died, you know?”

A sad smile crosses his face. “Yeah, my father told me. We were really sorry to hear about that…What was she like?”

I swallow the lump in my throat and blink tears away. “Well, she sang when she vacuumed. She was a real bad singer. Like, worse than the horrible singers on American Idol.” Jack laughs with me. “And she made Mickey Mouse pancakes every Sunday morning. She loved history.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t get to meet her,” Jack says softly, gazing down at me.

The bell for fifth period rings. Jack reaches into his cooler and whips out the last string cheese and hands it to me before taking off down the hall.

I peel the plastic off the cheese, put it between my teeth, and yank it away, chewing.

After school, I spend a good hour grooming Star and feeding him, and then I decide to walk to the very edge of Cedar Hill and skirt the lake over to Whitfield Farms. I climb the fence and walk past cows and pigs and ducks and other animals up to Rory’s farmhouse. I ring the doorbell, he lets me in, and we go to his room. His dog Ava is lounging on the rug, panting with her tongue hanging out.

Old movie posters cover his walls. It seems all posters in his room must feature one or all of the following:

1. An explosion

2. A woman’s cleavage

3. George Clooney

Rory flops down on the floor and resumes playing some crazy racecar game called Ho Down in Hoochieville, where he drives around and picks up hookers.

Pig.

I drop onto Rory’s bed and sigh. “You’ve gotta ditch the Star Wars bedding if you ever expect to get laid.”

“The right girl will accept me, Darth Vader and all,” Rory says, thumbing his controller.

Trying to block out images of Sunday night’s almost kiss and trying to forget how Jack said I could go to college—which further proves he and I will never work out—I cuddle with Rory’s Chewbacca stuffed animal and watch him play his video game that is effectively setting women’s rights back a hundred years.

“I heard you ate lunch with Jack yesterday,” Rory says.

“It was more like he wanted to steal my roast beef sandwich.”

“I’d bet $20 that you’ll hook up with him within a month.”

I fall backward onto Rory’s pillow, thinking about the past few days. Jack could be a first-class womanizer who’s way out of my league…but he has a soft side. He calls his sister sweetheart and helps his mom with her cookbook. He brought me coffee just the way I like it. But I won’t be one of the supposed one-night stands the maids talk about. Hell, he could’ve hooked up with both Kelsey and Abby last weekend, and that was after flirting with me! But he’s so nice…and he wasn’t paying all that much attention to Kelsey at lunch…

“You’re on. That’ll be an easy $20. I’m not gonna hook up with him,” I say.

Rory pauses his game. “Just be careful. He won’t give you the kind of relationship you deserve.”

My friend is telling the truth, but embarrassment washes over me nevertheless.

“Well, just for that, I’m not gonna tell you the great gossip I’ve got on you, Ror.”

“Me?” He starts playing his game again. “Did someone tell you how I acted out a scene from Call Me When Your Mom Is Back in Town—”

“No, no,” I say. “Somebody likes you.”

“God, I wish we could send that girl to Antarctica or something. I can’t stand how Evelyn Treanor stalks me between classes and tries to pinch my butt. Who does that—”

“It’s not Evelyn.”

Rory’s pimp character picks up a hooker in a monster truck. “Who is it then?” he asks, sideswiping a pimpmobile.

“Vanessa Green.”

He drops his controller and whips around, his mouth falling open. On the screen, his monster truck runs into a 7-11, flinging a bunch of bystanders into the air and causing a massive explosion.

“Bullshit.”

“Nope. Should I talk to her or anything?”

Rory pulls his bottom lip between his teeth. “I’m interested, but you don’t have to say anything. I’ll handle it myself.”

“What are you gonna do?”

“I dunno,” Rory replies with a shrug. He pushes his bangs off his forehead. “I’ll just wait and see what happens.”

But doesn’t he want to be in control of something like this? Doesn’t he want to put himself out there?

“Would you take her to dinner or something?” I ask. “A girl like that—you gotta take her somewhere fancy in Nashville, not Tennessee Ballers. Where are you gonna get the money for a date like that?”

“I’d find the money.”

He abandons the hooker game to stand and pace around the room, pausing to check his floppy brown hair in the mirror. I love that Rory says he’d find the money. It’s black and white for him: if he wants to take a girl on a fancy date, he’ll find a way to make it happen.

Would Jack ever take a risk for me?

An Honorable Man

“Shit.”

Jodi, the Goodwins’ chef, is pacing back and forth across the Hillcrest common room. Cindy still isn’t feeling well. She’s lying on the couch while Dad massages her feet and makes her drink water. He thinks she’s dehydrated. The other bad news is that we’re short-staffed for Mr. Goodwin’s fancy dinner party tonight.

If Cindy calls out of work sick tonight, it sure won’t make our family look good. It would truly suck if Dad lost his new job.

“Mom, let me help,” Ethan, Jodi’s thirteen-year-old son, says. “What can I do?”

“If you owned a tux maybe you could serve,” Jodi replies.

“Let me take Cindy’s place,” I interrupt, standing up.

Everyone stares at me. Working in the kitchens during a fancy Goodwin dinner is the last thing I want to do, but I can’t let Cindy get fired.

“You can be a server,” Jodi says, nodding at me. “Just follow Paula’s lead and you’ll be fine.”

“I’m so sorry,” Cindy says to me, clutching her stomach. Dad gives me a kind smile, looking grateful as he places his hand over Cindy’s.

“It’s not a problem,” I say, but it is. I can’t imagine serving Jack twice in one day.

Cindy loans me one of her maid uniforms, because unlike at breakfast, I have to put my Goodwin game face on. The blue dress hangs below my knees and if I look straight down, I can see my bra.

Super embarrassing. God, why did Dad have to get Cindy pregnant?

Up at the manor house, Ethan is helping his mom plate the salads while Mr. and Mrs. Goodwin greet their guests in the parlor. Paula is filling carafes with wine. Jack is hiding out in the kitchen, sneaking bites of everything Jodi is cooking. He pops a shrimp in his mouth and she smacks his hand. “For the third time, get out of my kitchen!” Ethan and I crack up when Jack steals a piece of cornbread behind Jodi’s back.