The Girl in the Love Song (Lost Boys 1)

She put her hand to the charm, touched. “Oh, thank you. My grandmother gave it to me—”

“We have ten minutes until the bell,” Evelyn interjected with a nod at the quad. “Time to vote.”

We veered from the lockers to the table. Two students, sitting between the balloon clusters, took our names to ensure we only voted once and handed us clipboards.

The ballot listed nominees for King, Queen, Prince and Princess, and their accomplishments and contributions to the school. Evelyn was a nominee; her fashion vlog—with more than 25K subscribers—was lauded for her “entrepreneurial spirit.”

Julia and Caitlin were nominated too, and—to my shock—so was I, over a fat paragraph of all my extracurriculars and accomplishments.

“Holy crap,” I said, a strange little thrill shooting through me. “How did this happen?”

Julia smiled at me. “No idea.”

“Me neither,” said Caitlin.

“Make sure you all vote yourself in for Princess,” Evelyn said, who knew she had Homecoming Queen locked up. “I want at least one of you in that parade with me.”

Julia and Caitlin exchanged glances and turned their backs to fill in their ballots, then folded them and stuffed them in the slot.

“I’m not voting for myself,” I said. “That feels…weird. It’s an honor just to be nominated.” I laughed. “Isn’t that what they say? But I’ll happily vote for you guys.”

I bubbled in Evelyn for Queen and River Whitmore for King. Easy. Anyone else was a waste of a vote. For Princess, I filled in both Caitlin and Julia, letting fate decide. For Prince, I wanted to write in Miller, but I knew he’d think it was a joke or that I was making fun of him.

“There,” I said and stuffed it in the slot. “I’ve done my civic duty. Am I free now?”

“Slow down,” Evelyn said. “Just hang here until the bell.”

“Why?”

“It’s good visibility to linger at the voting table,” Julia said, tapping her temple. “Strategy.”

I smirked. “Puts us in the mind of the electorate?”

“Exactly.”

The little zing of being nominated lingered, but hanging around the table felt like trying too hard.

“Oh shit, I almost forgot,” Evelyn said. “Did you guys hear? We have another new guy in senior class. Ronan Wentz.”

I knew that name. My history teacher had called roll yesterday, but he’d been a no-show.

“Apparently, Ronan is a juvenile delinquent. In and out of jail…”

“Really?”

“I heard he killed his parents and fled the state.”

“Get serious, Cait…”

I liked my new friends. They each had beautiful qualities if you got to know them outside the high school ecosystem, but my quota of gossip hit max capacity. I tuned them out, and my gaze wandered until it caught sight of Miller. He was crossing the quad, gaze cast down, shoulders bent as if his backpack weighed a thousand pounds.

“Speaking of the new guy,” Evelyn said, nudging me. “Your BFF and Frankie got in a fight after P.E. yesterday.”

I grit my teeth as a rush of anger flushed me. “What happened?”

“I heard Frankie was kicking Miller’s ass—or Miller was sick or something—until Ronan showed up and beat the hell out of Frankie. Broke his nose and cut off a piece of his tongue.”

Caitlin and Julia gasped and murmured while I shouldered my bag and hurried toward Miller, ignoring Evelyn calling me back. I caught up and fell in step beside him.