PK / PETER KAVINSKY

1.

I eyed the horn located in the middle of the steering wheel longingly as the last dregs of my phone battery dwindled away. The white apple logo imprinted on that dreaded black background replaced the Snapchat I had been reading from Lara-Jean asking me if I had finished reading the sociology textbooks set for summer work. Oh well, guess she'd just have to wait until I'd got back home to find out that I hadn't even known there had been sociology books in the first place.

I drummed my thumbs on the leather side of the car, inhaling with a deep breath the sweet scent of the diffuser my mom had insisted on installing as part of starting my driving lessons a few months ago. By now, the end of the summer, I was a pro. Well, compared to Lara-Jean anyway and Chris hadn't even bothered to learn yet so technically I was the designated driver of our little group.

I watched the lacrosse pitch, still full of guys in red and blue jerseys milling around the field even though training was set to finish fifteen minutes ago. I had begrudgingly passed the time on my phone up until now but with no distraction, the horn icon under my fingertips was becoming increasingly more difficult not to press. 

I could just about make out Sam's little shape in the goal furthest away from the car park. At least I hoped that was him or things might get a bit awkward if I tried to take a random child home with me.

Mom and dad had done the whole "it's your duty as his older sister to look after him like this" but it wasn't that I had any problem with giving Sam a lift back, it was more what that entailed.

Let's just say having to make polite conversation with the jocks of my year wasn't exactly my idea of fun. The school had come up with a mentoring programme so that my grade's lacrosse team would breach the 5 year age gap and help out with my brother's lacrosse team. A recipe for disaster if you ask me.

Still, no one moved in the direction of the car park and so, pulling the keys out of the ignition by the keyring with "JAMIE" printed in big ass silver letters, I hauled myself out onto the gravel next to the pitch.

It wasn't even the first day of school yet and I was already sick of the concrete buildings that loomed behind me, making up Alder High. My favorite place to be.

But, I reminded myself, I was fulfilling my role of big sister to collect Sam from his pre-season training and not even the ugliest science block, or boys in my grade for that matter could prevent me from my duty. 

I positioned myself right next to the pitch, the early autumn breeze blowing my blonde hair about my face, hoping that the coach would get the message that I was ready to go home. I guess that message came across pretty well because only a minute later most of the players started to disperse.

To my disappointment, Sam wasn't one of them.

He was busy engrossed in conversation with a guy with dark hair, almost triple his height, both of them pulling the goal back down the pitch to where it was kept. 

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see one of the loudest boys in our year, Gabe Rivera, making a beeline for me so I pretended to spot my brother across the field to avoid him. 

"Sam!" I exclaimed and walked speedily off, away from Gabe and his irritating swagger. Both boys by the goal turned to look in my direction. 

As I got closer I was glad to see that one of them was, in fact as I had suspected, my little brother. I was, however, not so glad to discover that the other taller boy was none other than Peter Kavinsky. Brilliant.

The irony that I had ditched Gabe for Peter was just colossal. Kavinsky was notoriously the biggest player, loudmouth, and well, dick of the grade. He and his girlfriend Gen (who was also, unfortunately, cousin to one of my best friends, Chris) were known as the power couple of the  grade to their faces and the most self-obsessed people in the grade behind their backs.