Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 100612 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 503(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100612 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 503(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
“When were you going to tell me about this meeting?”
“You’re not a class officer,” Gabe, class treasurer, points out somewhat boastfully, and I have no choice but to roll my eyes back at him.
“So they just picked my name?” I use air quotes, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “How convenient.”
“No, they didn’t just pick your name. I already told you, we put all the seniors’ names into a random draw and picked ten. Then from those, we chose you.” His large palm claps down on my shoulder. “Dude, I’m sorry. I tried to talk them into choosing someone else, but Tompkins said it wouldn’t be fair to throw your name out. The computer picked it. The best I could do was have him agree to this dare instead. You do the dare and you’re off the hook.”
Fine, I believe him. The computer picked it.
I believe him because no one in this school is dumb enough to volunteer as tribute. Not for the prank—it’s too risky. I know it’s risky because they pull the same prank every single year, since it coincides with culmination of basketball season.
I throw the rest of my sandwich onto my tray, appetite gone.
“This is so jacked up.” I shake my head. “I’m not doing it. My parents would kill me.” And if they caught wind that the class officers were organizing the entire thing, my parents are the kind of parents who would call the principal and rat Aiden Tompkins out—but then I look like a whiny, dickhead snitch.
Marcus snorts. “Same.”
“Yeah,” Gabe intones. “Any one of us would be in deep shit if we got caught, so maybe you shouldn’t be crying about it. You’re not special.”
Yeah, I kind of am.
“I’m not crying about it,” I whine.
This isn’t fair and it isn’t cool.
“Aiden said you could win a dare instead. That was the deal—ask Maddie Miller on a date and you’re off the hook.” Marcus looks satisfied. “Dude, did you hear me? You’re off the hook.”
Oh joy.
“All you have to do is walk over there”—Gabe points across the courtyard we call our cafeteria—“and ask her. Big deal.”
My brows go up. “Oh. That’s all?”
My stomach gurgles, and I am this close to shitting my pants.
Shit.
I’m screwed.
I have to do this.
If it means someone else will have to pull the senior prank, I suppose I have no choice, do I?
“Well. That’s not all. Not exactly.” Gabe is staring down at his tray, the pizza slice greasy and probably stale.
I go still. “What do you mean, not exactly?”
Marcus fidgets.
Gabe squirms.
Deshaun—who hasn’t said a word this entire time—blanches.
“Jeez, you assholes. Are you going to tell me the rest of it or not?” The silence is driving me nuts!
“She, um.” Gabe can’t look me in the eye. “Maddie Miller has to…uh.”
She has to what?
I glance over at her, a vision in the courtyard. “She has to what?”
“To win the dare and get yourself out of the senior prank, you not only have to ask Maddie Miller on a date…” He pauses dramatically. “She has to say yes.”
Chapter 2
Harper
3 Days Earlier…
Dear God—or whoever is up there listening. It’s me. Again. Harper, the girl who hit you up last month about that weird rash she had on her backside and prayed it would go away before her cousin’s wedding? Yeah. That Harper.
So I’m not trying to be annoying or anything…if that’s a thing?
But I have a dilemma. And you might not think it’s a big deal, because there are way more important problems on the planet than my stupid problem, but here goes anyway: I don’t have a prom date.
I know. It’s so embarrassing.
Can you please send me one? Like, a good one.
I know that of all things to pray for this one is super self-serving, but cut me some slack—I’m almost eighteen and I’m desperate. Ha ha.
And not to be picky, but can you make him semipopular and likeable? So we can tolerate each other for one night? Oh. And can he be taller than me. And cute? Not that looks are everything—we all know I’m a sucker for a good personality—but if he had a nice smile with nice teeth, that would be great.
Okay, now that I’m actually praying for this, I feel like the most selfish jerk on earth. I know my not having a date for prom is the least of your worries, but the thing is—
I assumed I’d have a date, so like a dum-dum, I volunteered for the prom committee, but now I don’t have a date and everyone has been asking who I’m going with because no one can mind their own business!
Plus, I have a dress.
It’s THE dress. My dream dress.
It’s pink and like a cloud and so expensive I felt guilty letting my mom buy it. I AM THAT GIRL WHO WENT AND BOUGHT A DRESS BEFORE SHE HAD A DATE! I lied to my parents about it, but what choice did I have? I don’t want them to think I’m a loser.