Underwater Read Free

every time he’d gone in to kiss me, Kevin had popped up and taken a cheap shot at me: my looks, my family, the worn-out old Victorian house we lived in, which apparently wasn’t as cool as the posh lakeside cabin where he and Ian’s families lived.
    Unfortunately, he was also the person who’d taken the news that I would likely never walk again and turned it into hot gossip in the halls of Sandpoint High. Ian, who was one part nice-guy, one part popularity-obsessed jock, quickly decided that breaking things off with me was the smartest choice. According to him, I needed to focus on recovery . But realistically, he needed to focus on dating the head cheerleader with the giant boobs and two working legs.
    Not that I was bitter.
    A few more heads turned, and Ian’s expression softened as soon as our eyes met again. “Sorry about that, Luna.”
    “Right.” I shoved past him and ran over Kevin’s toe. The wall of teenagers parted, and we finally sidled past just as the first bell rang. I hated the fact that Ian looked at me with pity. It made me want to punch him in the face. If only I could reach it.
    He shifted between his feet and shoved his hands into his pockets. “I’m sorry, all right?”
    Kevin straightened up, rubbing his arm as he glared at me. “Gimp bitch.”
    Ian glared down at his friend. “Dude. Shut up.”
    I didn’t respond. I was used to it. As much as I hated to admit it, my parents were right when they whined to my doctors about kids today being so cruel. There was a kid I’d gone to school with since the third grade who missed the bulk of our freshman year because he’d been fighting testicular cancer. The kids in my school still tormented him by calling him One Nut Nick.
    I rolled right up to Evey’s locker, and she dropped her pack to the floor with a thump. “Kevin’s a jerk.” She narrowed her eyes behind her glasses. “I don’t know why Ian puts up with him.”
    “Because Ian’s a tool.” I picked at a thread hanging on the strap of my bag.
    “He said he didn’t see you.”
    I pinched the strap between my fingers. “He also said he didn’t like redheads, but look who he’s screwing now.”
    “You’ve known him since you guys were in junior high.” She opened her locker and shifted through its contents. “You have to be nice to him eventually.”
    “I don’t have to be nice to anyone.” I tilted my head and looked up at Evey. “Why are you suddenly so defensive of Mr. Jockstrap?”
    She busied herself filtering through the contents of her locker. “I’m not.”
    A younger version of Ian—bearing the same blond hair, but a rounder, softer face—walked by. “Hey, Evey.”
    She glanced up and offered a smile, small and prim.
    I raised one eyebrow. “Does this have something to do with his brother?”
    My sister’s face flushed, and she pushed her glasses higher on her nose. “No. Geez. Be quiet.”
    I rolled as close to her legs as I could get without knocking her down. “Come on. You like Hayden, don’t you?”
    She watched his back as he sauntered away. “No. Yeah. I dunno.”
    I followed her line of sight. Ian and I had lamented about our equally annoying thirteen-year-old siblings. We didn’t know that two years later, we’d be broken up in a very made-for-TV-teen-drama way and our fifteen-year-old siblings would be crushing on each other. Fate was peculiar sometimes.
    We watched as a senior passed Hayden and slugged him in the gut so hard he doubled over. Papers and a baseball glove slid through the open zipper on his backpack, hitting the floor among all the walking feet.
    “Tell your brother hi,” the older kid said with a snide chuckle.
    Hayden moved quickly to gather his things. The hierarchy in my backwoods school was maddening. The popular kids were never nice to the younger kids, even if it meant betraying a sibling. So long as it made you appear cool and aloof, nobody cared about how much of a jerk you looked like.
    “Hayden hates it when they