Independence Day. Amy Frazier
I do?”
“Make sure you’re a whole lot cooler than your family.”
Gabriella tried to bury herself in the stuffed animals again, but Keri yanked her upright. “The hair’s a start,” she said. “Brilliant even. Danny said so.”
“The hair will be history by the time school starts. Remember the dress code?”
“Yeah. Your dad’s dress code. Could it get any worse than your father as principal?”
“My mom, Fourth-of-July nutcase.”
“Your dad, dog food.”
Her dad on the way to the emergency room in Mrs. Weiss’s SUV because his Volvo was AWOL and Mom’s Mini Cooper was too tiny for him to lie on his stomach.
“Hey, Danny wasn’t in the square, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Gabriella pointed out in weak defense.
“No, but Kurt Ryan’s dad was coming out of the hardware. And Baylee’s mom works in the E.R. How soon do you figure before everyone knows?”
Gabriella pulled the comforter over her head. “I wish I was dead.”
“There’s no time for that.” Keri pulled the cover aside. “You gotta think how to keep far away from all this before you get blackballed.”
“How are we going to do that?”
Keri raised one eyebrow, and Gabriella realized there didn’t have to be a we. This was her problem. Keri could wash her hands of it.
But Keri softened. Maybe it was because they were such good friends, or maybe Keri needed someone lower on the totem pole than her. “For the summer the hair’s a good start. But we gotta keep people thinking you’re out there.”
Gabriella didn’t feel out there. Not even with her new haircut. She felt miserable. Saddled with a lame family. And in over her head.
Keri jumped off the bed and began examining her face in her dresser mirror. “A boyfriend would be huge.”
Gabriella didn’t feel ready for a boyfriend. That Keri had met Danny two weeks ago at the beach and had chased him till he’d given her the time of day made Gabriella’s jaw drop. She didn’t want to think what Keri might’ve done to make Danny so loyal so quick. No, the idea of a boyfriend made Gabriella nervous.
“Boyfriends take time,” she replied. “I need something quick.”
“You gotta be fearless. You gotta act as if you don’t care what your parents think.”
Easy for Keri to say. She was an only child. Her mom treated her more like a girlfriend than a daughter, and her dad treated her like a princess.
“You suggesting I start smoking and hanging around street corners?” Gabriella asked sarcastically.
“No,” Keri replied, serious. “Everybody smokes and hangs around street corners. You need to be awesome. A standout. Plus, you don’t need to waste attitude on just anybody. Save it for when you’re hanging around Baylee or Margot or Kurt.”
“As in?”
“As in when we’re at the mall together, you might lift a lip gloss rather than pay for it.”
“Shoplift? I don’t need to steal.” Besides, it was wrong. Just wrong. And Keri should know better. Gabriella’s father might be a principal, but Keri’s was a cop.
“Nobody needs to shoplift. It’s just for kicks.” Keri narrowed her eyes. “But you’re right. You don’t need to do it. It’s not original. You need something fresh.”
Something beyond smoking and theft? Gabriella didn’t like the sound of the words fearless or fresh. “Couldn’t I aim for something like best dressed?”
Keri looked at Gabriella’s outfit. “Not when your mom makes your tops and you buy your jeans at a discount store. We’re gonna take care of that, don’t you worry, but first we gotta come up with a rep for you.”
Gabriella’s family hadn’t stayed in one place long enough for her to get a reputation. She was always just the new kid.
“How about smart?”
“In high school?” Keri made as if to slit her throat. “Look at your sister, the brainy poet. Just another word for nerd.”
If Isabel was a nerd, was Gabriella? She thought of her dad. Not making the honor roll had never been an option in their family. “Funny?”
“Funny walks a thin line with stupid. Some people might think what happened in the square this afternoon was funny. Do you want to be known that way?”
Gabriella absolutely did not.
“Don’t worry.” Keri flopped on the bed beside her. “I’m going to make you over this summer. I’m not a hundred percent sure how, but by the time school starts, everyone’s going to be asking who Gabriella McCabe is. Hey, maybe not Gabriella!” Keri jumped to her feet. “Maybe Tiffany. Or Brianna. Or Kayla. Have you thought of changing your name?”
“Why?”
“’Cause Gabriella sounds like an old lady, and Gabby sounds like a cowboy on the retro western channel.”
Change her name? Her parents would freak. “I don’t know—”
“You don’t know?” Her friend’s look turned harsh. “Do you want to consider your options? Like the losers’ lunch table? It’s no different in high school than it was in junior high. Maybe worse.”
That table with the fat kids. The picked-on, misunderstood and unattractive kids. The ones who fit in with no group whatsoever except losers. In a couple schools she’d been one of them.
She wasn’t going back to that table. Not ever. A new name and identity suddenly appealed to her.
“Aside from picking a name, what do I have to do?”
“Nothing yet.” Keri slipped her arm around Gabriella’s shoulders. “Just leave everything to me.”
With her future in Keri’s hands, Gabriella’s thoughts slipped back to her parents. She wondered if her father had made it to the emergency room yet. And hoped that Baylee’s mom wasn’t on duty this afternoon.
“WOULD MUSIC HELP?” Martha asked from the driver’s seat.
“No.” Lying on his stomach in the back of the Weisses’ SUV, Nick spoke between clenched teeth. “Thank you.”
This day had turned out to be—literally—one big pain in the ass.
“We’re almost there, honey,” Chessie reassured him. “I can see the sign for the emergency room.”
“Just drop me off.” He knew the E.R. took cases in order of severity. Dog bite would be way down the priority list. He didn’t need two women—one he was royally ticked at—hovering over him for a couple hours. “I’ll call a cab when I’m done.”
“Nonsense,” Martha countered cheerfully. “You’ll need moral support.”
He thought he heard a suppressed giggle.
Shifting his weight, he groaned at the stab of pain. Cautiously, he felt his backside. The bleeding seemed to have stopped, but his trousers—his new trousers—were ripped badly, and the fabric stuck to his skin with what he could only assume was dried blood. He’d have to walk into the E.R. with an immodest patch of himself hanging out.
“Do you have anything I could tie around my waist?” he asked. “Just so I don’t give the world a free show.”
“Hold on,” Martha replied, pulling to a stop under the hospital portico.
The back doors to the SUV opened, and Chessie handed him the sheet she’d been wearing. He nearly threw his back out, turning