Chapter 2: Eavesdropping and Edges

The day I overheard Nick and Rachel talking, I’d just finished tallying up my SAT score—1560. The same number as last year’s state valedictorian. My hand was shaking as I wrote it in the margin of my battered prep book, my heart thudding so loud I thought someone would hear.

I’d just let out a long, shaky breath when Rachel’s voice floated from behind the student council door, trailing the sharp scent of her perfume and the click-clack of her favorite boots.

"Nick, don’t forget—you haven’t won our bet yet."

"Only if you get Jamie to go to community college with you does it count as beating me."

Nick sounded like he was shrugging on the other side, totally chill: "You see her grades now? Barely above 1000—what decent college could she even get into?"

Rachel pressed, "But she’s so smart, what if—"

"Even if she somehow pulls it off, doesn’t matter what school she gets into. Isn’t it up to me to decide?"

The others standing around burst into laughter. Their voices bounced off the cinderblock walls, loud and ugly.

The same people who used to call me ‘Nick’s girl’ at every turn were now dragging my name through the mud.

"With the way Jamie clings to Nick, forget community college—she’d be happy picking up trash with him."

"Exactly! Everyone at Lincoln High knows she dropped from the top straight to the bottom just for Nick. What wouldn’t a hopeless romantic like her do?"

Another round of laughter—sharp, knowing, and it stung more than I’d ever admit.

I heard every word, but it barely scratched the surface. Not the way they probably wanted.

Like Jay Gatsby throwing wild parties for Daisy, I’d tank my grades for a boy—just this once. So what if, for a guy like Nick, I played the fool and let my GPA burn?

Someone piped up, teasing, "Rachel, if Jamie ever finds out this was all your revenge, she’ll probably hate you forever."

Rachel rolled her eyes, all attitude, mascara perfectly in place. "Idiot, isn’t it obvious? Why even ask?"

But this time, they were wrong.

I didn’t hate Rachel. If anything, I owed her. A plain face like mine, barely worthy of a second look in the yearbook, got a shot at a guy like Nick—all because Rachel handed him over like some twisted fairy godmother.