The Bet

Chapter 1

Hailey

I sit in the back of the classroom with my headphones in, though no music is on. Last time I wore headphones and played music, I got pudding thrown at me. Now, I keep the headphones in so nobody will speak to me. Not like they would talk to me if I didn't have headphones in. 

Right now is art class. To some asshole seniors, this would be a free period for them to discuss their next hookup or talk about when they're going to get wasted. For me, this is actually an art period. I squiggle lines on my paper, trying to draw a cute frog. The roundness of the frogs head throws me off, so I erase the entire thing and start from scratch. I push my pencil to the paper, and the lead snaps. Ugh, now I have to sharpen my pencil and the pencil sharpener sits pretty in front of the golden boys. I'm referring to the hierarchy of Westbrook Academy. The fours guys at the table are pretty much gods around here. 

I rise from my table and venture across the room to the sharpener. Breath, Hails. It's just a group of dumb boys. Keep your headphones in and don't look. I get to the pencil sharpener and am so glad I have my back facing them. I would just about die if I had to face them. 

As I finish with my pencil, I hear one of them say. "Her ass looks amazing in those jeans." I recognize the voice as Colby Sparks, our school's hockey captain. 

I freeze in my spot, but quickly calm down as I realize they couldn't possibly be talking about me. I turn around and head to my seat. I sit down and look down at my paper, but I can't help hearing the continuation of their conversation. 

I hear the golden boy's brainiac, Kyle Liams join in, "Her ass is nothing special. But I hear she scored in the top five in the school on the SATs." 

I blush slightly because I think they are talking about me. Since I don't have many friends, finding time to study for the SATs was not that hard. 

Evan O'Shea pipes in and says, "I've heard her crack some wise ones in gym. She certainly knows how to roast somebody." 

I didn't even know that Evan O'Shea, the richest person in New York, knew that I was in his gym class. And the "wise ones" he is referring to are the cracks I make at people who don't do shit in that class. 

Then, the leader of the pack chimes in. "Boys, I think we forget that she's a loser. The only reason we know who she is is because there are  only thirty other people in our grade." This earns a hearty laugh from the people at the table. I can feel Logan St. James smiling. "We shouldn't waste our energy on her. She's not worth it." 

I blush harder at their insults and decide to return to drawing frogs. Having bean an outside since day one--kindergarten--I have developed a tough skin. But having four hot guys insult you stings a little bit. I decide to no longer eavesdrop for my own sanity. I reach for my phone intending on playing some upbeat music to drown out the guys, but I pause at Evan's words. 

"Maybe we should waste our time on her." Evan says, a hint of mischief in his voice. "Maybe you should waste your time on her, St. James." 

My eyebrows knit at Evan's words. What on earth does he mean?

Logan hums. "What are you suggesting, O'Shea?" 

Evan's voice lowers and I have to focus hard to hear him. "I'm suggesting we have a friendly, innocent bet." 

Colby howls out a laugh. "I feel like I know where you're going with this."

Evan continues, "I think you should ask her out. I bet you won't do it."

Logan laughs. "That's a lame bet, don't you think. Make it more complex. Simply asking somebody out is third grade shit. Give me something dirty, something hard."