Page 39 of Breaking Rules
“On a different topic, what books of Casey Stewart’s have you read?” I wasn’t about to share the truth. I was still leery on the subject of my mom. But I was curious.
The halls were teaming with kids talking, banging their lockers shut, and hurrying by as though they were late for a fire even though we had about fifteen minutes before class started. Reagan and I banked left toward computer class. The halls quieted as all eyes diverted to Reagan and me. Whispers hummed as we passed.
“I guess the whole school heard of your tryout,” Reagan said.
“Or they’re ogling my virgin outfit.”
When we approached computer class, a boy of average height with long sideburns pushed off a locker he’d been leaning against. “Montana,” he said, undressing me with his eyes.
I glared at him. “Who wants to know?”Be nice.
“I’m Ferris. I was told you needed a tutor.”
My eyebrows went up as I lost my snarky attitude. “Ferris?”
“Don’t you dare laugh at my name. I’ve been in hell since I entered grade school.”
I pressed my lips tightly together so I wouldn’t break out in hysterics. “Except the sideburns, you remind me of Matthew Broderick inFerris Bueller’s Day Off.”
“No, I don’t. Look, Ms. Shepard told me how to find you. She also explained you need a tutor. Do you?”
My mom had mentioned last night that she had spoken to the guidance counselor but told me to check in with Ms. Shepard. “I do. Can we meet after school on Monday?”
“I’ll meet you in the library, and don’t be late.” He bounced off.
“He’s up for valedictorian,” Reagan said.
I guessed I was in the right hands, then.
When we ambled into class, Reagan poked me in the arm. “That’s the last Casey Stewart book I’ve read.” She pointed to the back of the classroom.
It took me a second to realize she was not only pointing at my mom’s book, whose face was plastered on the back cover, but at the person who was readingMy Heart to Take. I shook my head as I squeezed my butt cheeks so I wouldn’t poop my pants.
“I’m shocked that Train Everly is reading that book,” Reagan said as we both froze, staring at the sexy quarterback, who had his head buried in the pages.
Ditto. Ditto. Ditto.I honestly didn’t know what to make of Train reading my mom’s book other than wondering how he knew. So hewascoming onto me because of my mom’s erotica books.
“What’s wrong?” Reagan’s strawberry-scented shampoo drew me out of my funk.
If the cat was out of the bag, then I shouldn’t lie. I might lose both Elvira and Reagan as friends. But I wasn’t certain if I was ready for the school to know. Then again, Train might have blabbed the news already. “For one, Casey Stewart is my mom,” I barely whispered near her ear.
“Shut up.” Her pretty hazel eyes grew as big as damn basketballs. “Oh, I got to call my mom.”
I grasped her arm. “I get your excitement, and thank you for it. My mom is awesome. But I barely tell people, only because some can be—”
“Assholes,” she said. “Don’t worry. I got your back.”
A warm feeling covered me. It was good to know I had someone on my side. Now to deal with Train.
As Reagan began texting, I sat down and swiveled to face the boy who twisted my insides in a good, bad, and irritating way. “Is it a good book?”
Lazily, he flipped the page as he smirked. “The best. I see why you’re rather forward.”
My stomach knotted. “You’re judging me based on a book?” My suspicion as to why he had come on to me slowly became a reality.
He folded a corner of a page then swung his head my way. His lids were heavy, and his eyes were full of… something. “Not any book. Your mom’s book.”
If anyone in class was listening, I couldn’t tell. I didn’t want to break eye contact with Train. “Operative word in there—my mom’s. Not mine. How did you find out?”
