He nods his head. “We’re good. See ya later.”

“See ya.” Once he turns and walks back into the apartment, I descend down the rest of the stairs. I can’t say I was expecting a reaction like that one, but then again, Carson’s changed since he moved in. This new version suddenly cares how I dress, how much make-up I wear, and who I’m with. It’s nothing like when Wyatt was still here—back when he treated me like I was one of the guys.

Though it wouldn’t surprise me if Wyatt put him up to it. He probably cares because he was told to. Lord knows he has enough on his plate without having to worry about what I’m doing.

But I have bigger problems to deal with, like my car starting. It’s sounded like a ninety-year-old man with emphysema for far too long. The added clanking sound is only getting worse, and I have no choice but to get it checked out. That means more money I don’t have down the drain.

Missing school isn’t an option, so I have to pay for it even if I don’t have the money. My days at school are never easy, but it’s where I get to do my favorite things—see my best friend, Becca, and work on my collection. If I plan on getting into Parsons School of Design, I need to work harder than I ever have. My interview in New York City is only a few short months away. There is no Plan B.

With luck, I make it to school, pulling into my assigned spot. The parking lot’s already starting to fill up—much faster than usual. Today’s the one day of the year people are actually early for class. Tomorrow, the mad dash before the bell will begin.

“You coming, woman?” Becca’s knocking on my window, smiling like a loon. She loves the first day of school almost as much as the last. It’s the part in the middle that’s a drag.

“I’m coming.”

“Whatcha got first, Kin?”

“Advanced photography.”

My schedule is loaded with art and design electives, and I’m hoping they’ll help set me apart during my interview. The more I can add to my portfolio, the better my chances are of being accepted into the design program at Parsons. Though, no matter how impressive I can make my portfolio, it’s still going to be a stretch for a small town girl from Pennsylvania to make it in the Big Apple. But if anyone’s up for the challenge, it’s me.

“What do you have?”

“Chem Lab.”

“Sounds like a snooze fest. Good luck with that.” I always give her a hard time about her demanding schedule, but Becca’s dream is to be a doctor—a pediatrician. In fact, she’s had her sights set on The University of Pennsylvania's Perelman School of Medicine, one of the top five medical programs in the country, for as long as I can remember. And Becca’s fierce enough to make it happen. Go big or go home, right?

“I can’t believe it’s senior year already. I feel like we were just like those kids.” She points to a group of nervous freshmen who look like they’re about to throw up in the grass.

“Nah, we were so much cooler than that,” I toss back, knowing for a fact we were because three years ago, I was completely, blissfully, happy. I still had a family—a real family with a mother and a father.

“Sorry,” she says, as she kicks a rock across the sidewalk. “I wasn’t thinking when I said that.”

“Stop, it’s fine, really. Now, please tell me you have first lunch so I don’t have to wait all day to see your face again.”

She scans our schedules, holding them side by side. She starts waving them in the air when we finally match up. “I do! We have gym together, too.”

“I hate gym. I suck at sports and you know it. I’m much better at watching them.”

“I can’t disagree with that. I’ve seen you in action,” she says, laughing. “Your brother hogged all the coordination genes.”

Wyatt was a standout wide receiver on the football team. They even played him as a freshman he was that good. Now, he’s at Penn State University, on a full athletic scholarship.

“You’re probably right. He’s good at everything.”

“Except math. Poor guy can’t add for shit.”

I snort because she’s so clueless. “He sucked on purpose, so you’d tutor him after school.” My brother had a crush on Becca all year long, but Becca never gave him a shot because he was going away to school this year. And with plans of her own the following year, they’d never be in the same place at the same time. It’s a shame, really, they’d be great together. She’s what he needs to calm his ass down, maybe even tame him a little, and he’s what she needs to have some fun—without her nose being stuck in a book.

Becca doesn’t say another word about Wyatt, and I don’t bring him up again. I can tell she misses him though. She may have complained about the tutoring sessions at first, saying what a lost cause it was, but secretly, she looked forward to them as much as he did.

We get to my first class before hers, and although I’m a little early, I go inside anyway. I hate walking into a classroom full of eyes—especially when I know most of them only see me as Wyatt’s little sister—the sad, little, orphan girl.

“Good morning, Kinsley,” Mr. Jasper says, as he lays a copy of the class syllabus on each desk.

“Morning, Mr. Jasper.”

“Sit wherever you’d like, doesn’t matter. You won’t spend much time at your table anyway once we get rolling.”

“Okay.” That’s what I love about photography. You can’t learn without doing, which means I stay busy. As long as I’m creating, I’m not thinking, and that’s a very good thing. I toss my bag onto the table in the back corner, closest to the darkroom. I can’t wait to get back inside.

I glance over the syllabus while the classroom fills up, little by little. The senior class is just shy of three hundred students, so all the faces walking through the door are familiar, but there’s one that stands out the most—Rhett Taylor.

Rhett and I don’t travel in the same social circles. I’ve known him since kindergarten, but other than being aware of whom the other one is, we don’t know much about each other besides what we see at school.

Ever since freshman year, I’ve crushed on his green eyes more than I haven’t, but I’ve never had the guts to do anything about it. He’s popular and the star athlete on the football team now that my brother has moved on. But what separates him from the other guys in our class, is his personality. He’s never once belittled someone beneath him in the food chain, where those less popular easily fall prey to the sharks. The sharks all take great pride in going out of their way to make life miserable for others, yet Rhett’s never been one of them. I’ve never understood why he hasn’t used the power of popularity to his advantage, but he wouldn’t be Rhett if he acted any other way.

Combine his personality with his athletic build, killer smile, and tan skin, and you have six feet of male perfection. What girl wouldn’t want to date the hottest guy on the football team? The nerds want to know him, the cheerleaders want to date him, and his friends want to be him. But in my eyes, it’s always gone beyond the physical. Call it a hunch, but I know there’s more to Rhett than he lets the rest of the school see. Problem is, I’m not sure anyone else has even bothered to notice—except for me.

MR. JASPER ONLY spoke for fifteen minutes. It seemed more like an hour with Rhett practically sitting next to me. He smells as good as he looks.

After Mr. Jasper finished going over the course syllabus, like every other teacher will do at the start of class today, he set us free to work on our first assignment. It’s taken me straight to the art lab where I’m most comfortable. I use a mannequin to drape one of my favorite fabrics into the beginning stages of a dress. After mixing just the right textures of fabric together, it photographs flawlessly.