Jo and Zoe exchanged glances. They both had single parents and didn’t really know. Jo’s mom had died young . . . car accident. And Zoe’s dad was doing fifteen to life for armed robbery.
From the outside, the good people of River Bend thought everything was Norman Rockwell in the Bartlett family home. Like many kids, Melanie was encouraged to take all the college prep classes, take AP English, and join Associated Student Body. She’d been on the cheer squad in early high school but canned the chick club when she saw head cheerleader Margie Taylor kissing on Melanie’s boyfriend. Melanie dumped them both and hooked stronger with her true friends.
“It was all for them,” Melanie muttered.
Zoe moved from the couch to the floor and wrapped an arm around her.
The waterworks turned on high.
“College. They wanted me to get into a college far away so they could move on.”
“California isn’t that far,” Jo reminded her.
“USC is a thousand miles from here, Jo. It takes two hours to drive to a flippin’ airport from this town.”
Zoe nudged her. “You got into USC. That’s huge. Focus on that.”
“And you won’t have to choose which parent you’re going to stay with,” Jo added.
Melanie grabbed the bottle, added more to her cup. “Yeah. It’s hot in Texas.”
Jo lifted one side of her mouth in a half smile. “Connecticut sounds stuffy.”
“It is.” The liquor didn’t burn as much this time. Her head started to swim, and the tears started to fade.
Jo twisted the yearbook around and flipped to a page they were already very familiar with.
A picture of the three of them, arms around each other: Jo attempting to act badass . . . Zoe wearing the wrong everything, but her head high anyway . . . and Melanie, blonde hair pulled back in a tight ponytail, her perfect teeth shining with a smile. To the side of the picture it said . . .
Melanie: Most likely to succeed.
Zoe: Most likely to never leave River Bend.
Jo: Most likely to end up in jail.
“Even these complete shitheads get where you’re going with your life, Mel. You are the most likely to succeed.”
Melanie shoved the book aside. “Lot they know. You won’t end up in jail.”
Yet as the words fell from her lips, Melanie knew it might happen. Jo had been trying most of her teenage life to buck her dad and just about everything he stood for. A small town sheriff’s only daughter had two choices in life . . . rebel or conform.
Jo rebelled.
Looking around the paper-thin walls Zoe called home, Melanie reflected on her other BFF. She was wicked smart and had more going for her than she recognized, but Zoe probably wouldn’t leave River Bend. Her part-time job at Sam’s diner waiting tables and occasionally helping out in the kitchen helped her mom pay the bills . . . and then there was her boyfriend, Luke. They’d been tight forever, and chances were someone would forget the latex and a Junior Zoe or Junior Luke would have them married before they could legally drink with Jose and his friends.
“Yeah.” Zoe pulled the bottle to her glass. “Jo won’t end up in jail . . . and I wanna see the world. Can’t do that staying in River Bend.”
“Yeah!” The alcohol was already talking as they lifted their glasses in the air.
“We’ll show this town.” Jo drained her glass. “Let’s make a promise . . . right here . . . right now.”
Oh, the drama.
“What kind of promise?”
“Our ten year class reunion . . . we’ll all come back to this one-shit town and show everyone how wrong they are about us.”
Melanie started to smile. “Wait . . .”
“Not you, Mel-Bel . . . you’re going to be fiiine. We just need our über-rich and famous . . . or successful whatever to stand beside us.” Zoe was starting to slur her words.
Melanie still wasn’t convinced she should drink to the toast.
“To showing your parents their timing sucked,” Jo offered.
“I can drink to that.”
They did.
CHAPTER ONE
Ten Years Later
Grants Pass killed her car. Melanie turned off the interstate and headed toward the coast, knowing the chances of passing other drivers once the sun set were nil. The noise from under the hood and the occasional coughing of exhaust that exploded from her tailpipe were evidence of her earlier conviction.
Grants Pass killed her car.
“C’mon, baby . . . only twenty-five more miles.” She patted the dashboard and spoke in a soft voice to keep from waking Hope.
Melanie glanced at the backseat. Hope clutched her favorite stuffed animal, her legs curled under her and her head resting on a pillow. Her pouty pink lips slacked open and her eyes were closed.
The trip had started out as an adventure, but once they had been on the road for eight hours, Hope did what any seven-year-old would . . . she whined.
That was a day and a half ago. They stopped for meals and one night in a roadside motel.