Page 2 of The Good Girl's Guide to Being Bad

Despite myself, I laughed.

If I hadn’t fallen in love with Kyle Bishop Jr. in my formative years, everything might’ve been different. But what fifth-grade girl in her right mind could resist when he was oh-so-fine? And nice…and clean-cut…and polite…and everything I’d been Stockholm-ed into thinking was “prince charming” by good ol’ Walt Disney?

Kyle, my first boyfriend, had been all that and more. We’d watched movies together while he braided my hair, played dress up with Kyle being pirate to my assassin-disguised-as-damsel-in-distress—Kyle could work wonders with a mascara wand. We held hands, passed notes, shared lunches. And it was perfect. I’d thought it was love. I’d thought we’d be together forever, married with kids, happily ever after.

Until he came out to me in the eighth grade.

The funny thing was it hadn’t changed anything—nothing important, anyway. Knowing that he’d never love me back hadn’t made even a dent in my affection for Kyle.

I guess that should’ve been my first clue.

Being in love with your best friend? Not so bad.

Being in love with yourgaybest friend? Even after you find out he’s gay? Yeah, there was no getting past that one.

Besides, far as I knew, high school guys didn’t go for girls who A) had crazy hair and too many curves, B) literally would pick a cardigan and pearls (they were just so classic!) over anything remotely on trend and C) always had their nose stuck in a book.

Ah crap, maybe I was destined to be a nun.

“Hey, Sister Sadie, wait up!”

“Jerk alert,” Kyle muttered as Zayne Humphreys and crew stepped up to us, his usual smug grin in place. Besides being born with a name that immediately put him on the douche list, Zayne was the typical jock/jerk combo. His sport of choice: lacrosse. His favorite targets: me and my best friend. The three of us had gone to school together since middle school. Kyle and he had despised each other nearly as long.

“Did you want something?” I asked.

“Yeah,” he said, “I have some things I need to confess.”

I sighed. This had been happening since we got the CAT results in homeroom.

“Ah come on, Sister Sadie.” His lacrosse buddies snickered at the nickname. “Since you’re all tight with the big guy upstairs, could you put in a good word for me? I’ve been a bad boy, and I’d appreciate the help. Unlike you, I party every weekend, get drunk, hook up—there’s been a lot of hooking up.”

The laughter got even louder as I blushed. But seriously, who said things like that?

“Isn’t it like your job to pray for us sinners and all that?”

“Newsflash,” Kyle said, “she’s not actually a nun.”

“Not yet.” Zayne shifted to face him, that stupid grin still in place. “But she will be, right? I’m just getting my confessions in early.”

“I think you’re beyond my help,” I said.

“Oh and why’s that?”

“Douchebaggery isn’t a sin. It’s an incurable disease.” I shook my head sadly. “Sorry, I can’t help you there.”

Zayne wasn’t smiling anymore, and his co-captain Billy Cunningham (yes,thatBilly) took a step toward me. “Is there a cure for being a bitch?” Billy said. “‘Cause you could use some of that.”

“Hey,” Kyle said, frowning. “That was out of line.”

Billy shrugged him off. “She started it.”

Kyle’s turn to shrug. “Actually, your boy here started it, and Sadie’s my best friend. I won’t stand by and listen to you idiots badmouth her.”

See, this was why I fell for the guy in the first place.

“Back off, faggot.”

“Hey!” I snapped. “Don’t talk to him like that.”

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