Waterfell. Amalie Howard

of us juniors aren’t children like people think we are,” I say with as much snark as I can inject into my tone. “Unlike you.” I smile sweetly at Kevin, who has a bewildered expression on his face. “See you, Kev.” I turn back to Lo, my smile fading into a blank expression that barely hides my aggravation. “Well, come on, then, if you’re coming.”

      Grabbing the keys to the ATV, I head through the front office doors and down the hall. Not looking back at him, I jab a finger down another hallway. “I’m sure Kevin told you the men’s bathroom is down there. Meet me out back in five. Five minutes, Lo, or I’m gone without you.”

      “You’re so bossy,” he throws back, but I refuse to engage and walk away in the opposite direction.

      In the women’s bathroom, my aggravation is unleashed on Jenna, who’s staring at me with a guilty look on her face. She pulls on a pair of cargo pants over her swimsuit. “Seriously, all I ask for is a moment where that guy isn’t stalking me for ten seconds.”

      “Did it ever occur to you that he may be into you?”

      “That’s just it. I’m not into him,” I snap, shrugging out of my school uniform. “And I’ve told him so. He just won’t take no for an answer. And plus, what’s with the Cara thing? Did you see them? They were practically canoodling after the game. And she’s a total psycho freak.” I know I’m ranting now but I can’t help myself. “I mean, the fact that he likes her and me in the same universe makes absolutely no sense. It’s kind of gross, really. And what’s with the lie about detention? Everyone knows that Cano likes the standard study-after-school detentions.”

      “Cara used to be your friend, remember?”

      “Used to, as in past tense, Jenna. She’s a bitch.”

      She stares at me. “You kind of both were.”

      “Wait, what?” My hand stalls at the folds of my T-shirt.

      Jenna sighs. “Freshman year, when you guys were friends. Rumor is you sort of took over and shut her out. Put it this way—if I hadn’t transferred in, I probably wouldn’t have wanted to be friends with you back then. Plus, look at what happened with the game against Bishop’s. You made a bad call because you don’t like her.”

      “I thought we were past that,” I say in a defensive voice. “And being better at hockey doesn’t make me a bitch.”

      “Or prettier or smarter or naturally better at everything than she was.” She spreads her palms at my look and takes a deep breath. “Look, you’re different now. We all are, but you can’t really blame Cara for resenting you now. I mean, come on, even Cano told her to be more like you.” She pauses. “In front of everyone.”

      I stare at her as I recall a vague recollection of Cano—Cara’s uncle—telling that to his niece in the school parking lot in front of half the school. I shrug. Cara’s family issues weren’t mine then, and they aren’t mine now. I narrow my eyes a fraction. “And that’s my fault how?”