Understudy Read Online Free

unspoken best friend code when it comes to dating hot guys: She who sees him first, gets to date him first. The good news is that Margot hasn’t mentioned any new guys at school lately, so that means I’ve seen him first. The bad news is that she is way prettier than I am. Actually, that’s just the neutral news. The bad news is that Margot is currently single.
    At lunch, Margot picks on her garden salad while I think of an organic way to bring up Derek and stake my claim on him. All the seniors have the same lunch period but it isn’t hard finding him in the crowd. Because he’s sitting alone in one of the corner tables made for two people. His sexy level goes up by a million points when I see that he’s reading a book instead of a magazine with a half-naked babe on the cover.
    “That must be a new guy,” I say causally, poking my fork in Derek’s direction. “He’s cute.” Mission complete. With those two words, I have unofficial dibs on him.
    Margot’s head jerks up when I mention new man flesh, and she scans the room. “Where?”
    “The guy with the long hair.”
    “Oh my god,” she narrows her eyes at me. “You mean that psycho? Derek Hayes?”
    “What do you mean psycho?”
    Her mouth falls open. “Don’t you remember? He was new at the beginning of the school year and then he went to juvi for the last however many months it’s been.”
    “Are you sure it’s the same guy?” My heart sinks. Derek doesn’t seem like a criminal.
    “Yeah, I think he almost killed a teacher,” she says with a shrug. “Or maybe it was drugs or something.”
    I rest my head in my hands. Almost killing someone isn’t exactly my idea of romantic boyfriend material. “That blows. He looks hot from here.”
    Margot makes a gagging sound. “Don’t be gross, Wren. He’s a criminal.”
     

     
    The rest of the day goes entirely too fast and before I know it I’m leaving last period and heading to the auditorium for Rehearsal Orientation. Only my aunt would have a rehearsal for a rehearsal.
    I dig my cell phone out of the side pocket in my backpack and flip it from silent to vibrate, since school is officially out so I can’t get in trouble for having it. I have six new text messages, all from Margot:
     
     
    2:42 p.m. So Ricky let it slip that he thinks Gwen is hot! WTF DUDE.
    2:42 p.m. I banned him from the auditorium.
    2:43 p.m. She’s not even that hot, you know? Skinny, yes. Skanky? Yes. Hot? No.
    2:45 p.m. WhereTF are u? WRENNNN
    2:46 p.m. WRENNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN it’s orientation and ur going to be late
    2:50 p.m. Hurry up, slut. This play won’t prop manage itself.
     
     
    I take a left and start typing out a reply asking who the hell is Ricky. I’m aware of the squeaking hinges of a classroom door swinging open, but it doesn’t faze me until I walk straight into it. My face smashes into the hard wood and my cell phone tumbles to the floor.
    “Shit, Wren are you okay?” someone asks. Sharp pain sears through my forehead and tears fill my eyes, but it’s nothing compared to how freaking mortified I am. I just walked into a door. Who does that?
    With my eyes closed, I rub my forehead. My cheeks are warm to the touch and probably scarlet freaking red.
    “I think your phone will be okay.” I recognize the soft spoken voice as Maggie from AP English… and every English class I’ve had since fifth grade. “Thanks,” I say, opening my eyes and taking my phone from her outstretched hand. The pink case popped off when it hit the floor but at least the screen didn’t shatter.
    Maggie’s face is as red as mine must be and she’s wearing those thick red framed glasses that I’ve only seen in her Facebook photos. She posts tons of photos a day, and they’re all of just her face, usually taken from holding the camera up real high. Margot likes to make fun of her behind her back, saying that only fat girls post photos of just their heads. Margot can be a real bitch sometimes. She demanded that I take