“Trick or treat!”
I huffed, slung my bookbag over my shoulders, and set off on a trot along the senior hallway. “I hate Halloween.”
My boyfriend, Billy Masters, popular jock and Durkin High’s lacrosse champion, dashed after me, his sharp cologne leaving a vaporous trail behind us. He reached for my arm. “Baby, what’s wrong? Why are you in a bad mood today?”
I stopped at my locker to drop off my biology book. I slammed the door shut, locked it, exhaled a long pent-up breath, and faced my ginger-blonde boyfriend. His green eyes looked puppy-dog sad.
I closed my eyes and leaned my head against the row of lockers. “For starters—” I stopped and shoved off the wall, striding to the middle of the near-empty hallway and clutching my social studies textbook as if it were a shield from all the h
