One of the Guys Read Online Free Page B

job. A job would only get in the way of his research. Plus, we have plans.
    Amy’s hand pauses mid-air as polish drips onto the table, her heart-shaped face now beet-red. Oh, man. I’ve mortified the poor child. Quietly, I crawl out of the window without asking questions, although I have plenty. Before I slide the window shut behind me, I overhear one of Amy’s friends say, “I bet she’s never had a boyfriend!”
    Ouch. I ignore the pit in my stomach—they’re freshmen girls for crying out loud—and grab my skirt from the lawn. I climb back into my car and settle in behind the wheel. Amy was mistaken. Confused. Loch wouldn’t bail out on a Champ search like this. Definitely not without telling me. Maybe he thought we were supposed to meet at the lake. Maybe he’s there now. I check my phone. No texts. No calls. No big deal. Loch isn’t attached to his phone.
    I hate feeling like this—so out of control. I pull out of the driveway and head toward the lake, the windows rolled down, trying to keep calm. I imagine the guys waiting for me on the dock, laughing, ready to start a new hunt. Bags full of junk food beside them. I bet they’re wondering where the heck I am.
    But when I arrive, Ollie’s pontoon boat is empty, gently bobbing in the water. I scratch the back of my neck as I walk along the dock and study the bordering mountains. After I sit down and pull out my phone, I send a group text: Where are you guys? Champ awaits…
    I set the phone beside me, my knees bouncing, unable to shake away this horrible feeling of abandonment. It grows in my chest like a balloon. Seconds later, my phone vibrates. One. Two. Three times.
    The first, a text from Cowboy: KATIE MORRIS TALKED TO ME TODAY .
    The second, a text from Ollie: A hunt? Today? I can’t make it .
    The third, a text from Loch: I’m so sorry. I forgot to tell you that I’m working tonight. Will explain later. Rain check? How was your first day, Winston Girl?
    They aren’t coming.
    They forgot.
    ALL THREE FORGOT.
    I scroll through my saved text messages. Yep. There it is. I’m not crazy. We planned this .
    How could they just forget?

    I collapse face-down on my bed. An annoyed meow comes from my pillow. I look up to encounter Tom Brady the cat. I’ve clearly disturbed his slumber. He glares at me and then begins to lick his black fur.
    â€œSo sorry to interrupt,” I say.
    Like a bad sofa, Tom Brady came along with the stepfather a year ago. Brian’s a huge New England Patriots fan, hence the cat’s horrid name. Turns out, Tom Brady the cat also doubles as an alarm clock. Every morning at 7 AM, he bites the crap out of my hand until I get out of bed and feed him.
    I shower and zone out in front of my laptop for about an hour. I try to forget about the stressful first day at Winston. I try to forget how my friends abandoned me and the feeling that they’re slipping away. That’s the thing though. Unlike them, I don’t forget.
    I shut off the lights, crawl under my covers, and unload panicked sobs into my cat hair-covered pillow.

four

    O VER THE NEXT FEW DAYS, I SEND about one hundred text messages trying to organize another hunt. On the days Loch can go, Ollie has to help his older brother, Jason, rearrange the basement. On the days Cowboy doesn’t have a test to study for, Loch is working. It seems impossible to get the four of us together in one place anymore. Are they avoiding me on purpose?
    At least today is Friday. Oh, wait. Friday means it’s time to share my feelings with total strangers. Super.
    â€œI think we should hear from Tonya Valentine next.” Mrs. Kemper folds her hands over her knees, turning her attention to me, but my mind is back at Burlington High.
    The guys see each other every day—in the halls, in class, at lunch. They don’t have to send a million texts or whatever to communicate. They are together. I want to be