Boarding with the Bad Boy [COMPLETE + BONUS published edition]

THE BOARDERS: 18

Lo

It's late, pitch black. I should be home, in bed. I should be at Remington. I think this languidly, like Remington is some kind of delusion. Then I laugh, looking up at the starry sky. Why am I outside so late? Why is it so hot? I'm wondering these things when I hear a car coming toward me on the wet road and I remember: I have to pay attention.

My dad's car appears, trundling in my direction. I'm perched halfway up a hill so I can watch. But I know what comes next and I need to move—fast—in 5-4-3...

The car hits a slick patch of road and jerks to the right. I leap up, throwing myself down the hill. Like a psychic, I know what's coming: the car slams into the guardrail, its weight and height just enough to thrust it over. I run as it tumbles into darkness, headlights flashing. Someone behind me is laughing and I make the mistake of glancing back. It's Brandon, his dark eyes full of hatred.

"Time to live the family legacy," Brandon taunts.

I pause. I'm surprised to see Brandon here. Usually, my mother is the one standing on the hilltop, promising she'd only had three glasses of wine. I realize I'm wasting time. "Not now, Brandon." It comes out a guttural yell, and then I'm off, throwing myself over the barrier and down the steep hill to the wreckage. I don't see my dad and I scream for him, my lungs filling with panic and smoke.

"Dad!" I can hear myself, echoing off the trees. He's not answering and I dig my hands at the door of the car, my fingernails breaking. "DAD!" I'm shaking and sweating. It's so hot.

"Somers!" I hear it from far away and I want to shout in relief. He's still here. I'm not too late.

I grapple against the thick air holding me back, still shouting and fighting to get to him. "Dad!"

I feel his hands on me, drawing me to him, and he's saying my name: "Somers, it's okay. You're okay."

But my dad doesn't call me Somers, he calls me Lo, and, slowly, the trees and the car disappear, the dream shifting to something almost worse. The hard-edged boy who almost kissed me this afternoon stands beside the bed, his eyes bright in the dark. Again. But this time, he's joined by Jared Weaver. I scream, jolting up and scooting back, away from the boys.

"What the hell are you doing in here?!" I can't help that my voice comes out high-pitched and scared. I am scared. And I'm pissed; I feel betrayed by Sam. Surprise surprise.

Sam's face is guilty, but he doesn't move to speak when Jared explains that they heard me shouting as they were coming down the hall and that they just wanted to make sure I was okay.

"I'm fine," I grunt, still pressed against the headboard. "Just a nightmare."

"Yeah, but you were really screaming though." Jared's blue eyes are wide, half-concerned, half-amused.

"You've never had a nightmare before?"

"Not like that."

"Lucky you."

"Okay, you're clearly fine. We're gonna go." Sam jerks his head toward the door and takes a step in its direction. I will Jared to follow, but he's not paying Sam any attention, still considering me with his eyes full of laughter.

"Daddy issues, Lo, huh?" He laughs conspiratorially. "I've got some of those myself."

I feel myself go rigid. I've known that my nightmares usually manifest in my talking—and sometimes shouting—aloud. The fact that Sam said as much last night wasn't news. But there's something about Jared's teasing about my dad that feels too personal.

Sam steps up to Jared, cuffing him on the side of the head with a "what the hell, man?"

Jared whips around, confused. "What'd I do? She was shouting about her dad. Weren't you, Lo?"

I shake my head, my teeth finding my lower lip as I try hard to act like I don't remember. "No clue," I mutter.

Sam's gaze finds mine and holds. There's apology in his eyes, but I don't care. I just want him to leave.

As if reading my mind, Sam turns back to the door, demanding "Weaver. Out."

"All right," Jared cocks his head at me. "Sorry, dude. Didn't mean anything by it." He shrugs, still confused, before loping after Sam into the hall.

When the door closes behind them, I sigh, sinking back into the sheets, damp now from my sweat. I really need to get a handle on these freaking dreams. Last thing I need is for the whole hall to know their female interloper has issues. I can only imagine how the rumor mill will take off with that, what Brandon will do with it. And then I realize: Sam's heard me, twice now, calling out for my dad in my sleep. Jared's clearly heard it too. And both boys have a loyalty to Brandon that isn't good for me. My blood goes cold. Turns out having the whole hall find out about my nightmares isn't the last thing I need; Brandon knowing what exactly brought me back to Salisbury is.