“Did I hear someone mention felons?”
As if Jonathan “JD” Davison’s voice wasn’t distinctive enough—it was deeper and smoother than any other high school guy Riley had ever encountered—the fact that he showed up once the word “felon” was mentioned was all kinds of indication.
JD was the kid every parent hoped didn’t hang out with theirs—and Riley’s parents topped that list. He had been dubbed JD—for juvenile delinquent—from his numerous stints in the principal’s office and his not-so-private run-ins with the Crescent City Police Department. Normally a guy like JD wouldn’t cross into a world like Riley’s—accelerated classes, the “good” kids on college tracks—but Riley’s new, longer trek to Hawthorne High paired with her love for sleep landed them smack dab in the same detention period for a week straight almost a month ago. She had pushed the “I overslept” envelope, and he was warming his usual spot.
She remembered the scrutinizing way he looked at her when she walked into the empty classroom.
“You’re new,” he muttered.
Riley gripped the straps of her shoulder bag and slipped into the desk furthest away from JD. She was horrified to be in detention and not exactly eager to make friends with someone who always seemed to be in trouble for something. Her parents were going to freak out enough already.
JD turned in his seat, his dark eyes following her every move. “What are you in for?”
She pulled her knees up to her chest. “Tardies. You?”
“Truancy, gambling on campus, just being my charming self.”
Riley cocked an eyebrow. “Oooh, you’re a regular James Dean rebel.”
JD looked impressed. “You know James Dean?”
Riley crossed her arms in front of her chest. “Why is that such a surprise?”
“I don’t know. I figured your vintage would be Johnny Depp, pre-Jack Sparrow.”
Riley feigned confusion. “Johnny who now?”
JD laughed, and her wall of ice was beginning to melt. “My parents and I like to watch old movies,” she said. “We pop a bunch of popcorn, grab a couple of Cokes, and watch till our eyes cross—or until my dad starts with his impressions. He does a mean Jimmy Stewart.”
“Really?”
“No, it’s awful.”
Riley and JD spent the next week whispering until the detention monitor glared or threatened them. She liked his wild streak, his carelessness. On the last day, he waved to her.
“See you, Spence.”
“You act like we’re never going to see each other again.”
He shrugged. “We both know how this works.”
Riley watched him disappear into a sea of black leather and spiky hair. She turned, linking arms with her own friends—preppy shirts, Hawthorne High ribbons, and straight As.
“Ugh, JD,” Shelby whispered.
“Back off, Shel. He’s actually kind of cool.”
Shelby crossed her arms in front of her chest and cocked out one hip, her eyes zeroing in on JD. “They have you doing detention here on Saturdays now too?”
“Actually, I’m here for the tour,” JD replied.
“Cool,” Riley said.
Shelby gaped next to her. “Seriously?”
Riley felt color wash her cheeks. She glanced up, but JD was unaffected. “Always nice to chat with you, Shelby. Ry.” He gave her a curt nod then turned on his heel. Riley watched him go, thinking that from the back, he looked way less felon, way more runway model.
“Earth to Ry!” Shelby started snapping her fingers a millimeter from Riley’s nose. “We’re getting on the bus.”
Riley stumbled out of her reverie and hiked her backpack up. Shelby laced an arm through hers and dragged her toward the bus.
“So you know what? I’ve decided to use this opportunity to break out of my shell. I’m going to make friends. I’m going to talk to boys.”
“My little Shelby Webber? Talk to boys?”
Riley could see the fear wash over Shelby’s face. “OK, maybe I should pretend to be a foreign exchange student on this trip. You know, practice as someone else before I break out the Shelby.”
Riley cocked a brow. “From what country? You’ve had three years of Spanish and still can only ask for two Cokes or how much that sombrero is.”
Riley glanced over her shoulder when she heard JD’s low laugh. He followed them on the bus, taking a seat across from them as they got situated in the back.
“So, JD, are you taking any of the classes on the tour?” Riley asked casually.
JD’s eyes flicked over Riley’s. “Nah. I got in to Berkeley.”
Shelby launched herself across the bus seat and over Riley’s lap. “You’re going to Berkeley? Like the school?”
JD nodded, his eyes still on Riley. “Yeah. Early admissions.” He narrowed his eyes at her, and Riley felt herself flush.
“What?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. You just don’t seem like the Hudson type.”
Riley’s eyebrows rose. “The Hudson type?”
“Preppy. Boring.”
Shelby leaned over Riley a second time. “I’ll have you know that Riley’s dad is a preppy, boring Hudson alum.”