My Sophomore Year of Rules (School Daze Book 4) Read online

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The author makes no claims to, but instead acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the word marks mentioned in this work of fiction.

  Copyright © 2017 by Jennifer DiGiovanni

  MY SOPHOMORE YEAR OF RULES by Jennifer DiGiovanni

  All rights reserved. Published in the United States of America by Swoon Romance. Swoon Romance and its related logo are registered trademarks of Georgia McBride Media Group, LLC.

  No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  Trade Paperback ISBN: 978-1-946700-60-5

  EPub ISBN: 978-1-946700-07-0

  Mobi ISBN: 978-1-946700-08-7

  Published by Swoon Romance, Raleigh, NC 27609

  Cover design by Danielle Doolittle

  Title design by Paper and Sage

  For my sisters, Amy & Maria

  Chapter One

  Rule #1: Always Follow the Rules (or, if they conflict with your personal principles, find a way to slightly bend them)

  Why did Mr. Campbell just hand me a pink slip?

  I can’t be in trouble already. It’s the first day back from winter break. What did I do wrong? Since last year’s Senior Superlative vote-fixing fiasco, I’ve tried so hard to be good. I learned my lesson and promised myself I’d never break a school rule again.

  My hands shake as I unfold the paper and read the request to report to Mrs. McCaffrey’s room. When the bell rings, I scrape back my chair and head over to the math wing. I’m a sophomore passing through junior and senior territory, training my eyes on the tile floor to avoid hostile stares. I should be walking to class with my friends or skimming my history notes from last semester. Instead, I’ll need to ask Mrs. McCaffrey for a late pass.

  Her first period class, filled with bleary-eyed juniors slumped in their chairs, ignores my walk of shame.

  “You wanted to see me?” I ask, approaching the math teacher’s desk.

  Mrs. McCaffrey must see the fear on my face as she waves me closer. “You’re not in trouble, Colette. But I do need your help with something.” She gestures for me to sit in the chair beside her and slides on a pair of glasses with heavy black frames. They transform her from friendly homeroom teacher to serious math professor. “Juniors, open to chapter ten and complete the pre-test.”

  A low grumble rolls through the room, followed by the thumping of textbooks.

  When everyone’s quiet again, she turns her attention back to me. “I’m sure you remember the Science, Technology, Engineering and Math mentoring program Andy Kosolowski organized for the middle school last year.”

  “The STEM Club?” I smile. “The kids loved Andy. I think they all wanted to be scientists by the time he’d finished working with them.”

  Mrs. McCaffrey flips through the mountain of papers on her desk. “It was a huge success. Because of that, the middle school has asked us to repeat the program this year, with new students. Would you consider taking it over?”

  “Me?” I raise my hand to my chest. “I’m only a sophomore.”

  “But you have the experience, and also the enthusiasm.” Mrs. McCaffrey shuffles her papers around, giving me a minute to think it over. “I think you’d be the best person for the job.”

  “Follow in Andy’s footsteps?” I shake my head. “I don’t know.”

  She locates a thin folder, sticking out from the bottom of a large pile. “Here’s all the information. Andy kept excellent notes. Why don’t you look it over and let me know later today, in class?”

  I tuck the folder in my backpack and hurry out of the classroom. It’s not until I’m in the hallway that I realize I forgot to ask for a late pass. “Oh, shit. Damn.” I blurt out three more curse words, only stopping when a locker door behind me slams.

  “Did you just say what I think you said?”

  When I whirl around, Will Gamen shoots me a grin. My mouth turns to sandpaper. Of all people to catch me throwing out a string of foul language, why did it have to be one of the most popular guys in the junior class? The strap of his gym bag snaps as he slings it across his chest. With his damp blond hair slicked back off his forehead, his green eyes appear bigger and brighter.

  A bead of sweat trickles down the back of my neck. “Sorry—I … ”

  He laughs. “Why are you apologizing?”

  A burst of static blasts out of the school’s intercom system. “Principal Dailey, please call extension two-nine-two.”

  I glance back at the closed door of the math classroom. “I forgot to ask Mrs. McCaffrey for a late pass and now I need to go—”

  Before I finish, he reaches into his pocket and produces two late passes. He hands me one. “Take this. I keep an extra in case of an emergency.”

  I twist the pass back and forth in my hand, wondering if it might be counterfeit. Would handing a teacher a fake pass get me in even more trouble than being caught without one in the first place?

  Uncertain, I lift my eyes to his. At Harmony High, Will’s pretty much the center of the universe, while I tend to orbit in some far-off sophomore galaxy. Up close, he’s larger than life. Definitely taller than I thought—maybe six-two. “Where did you find an extra late pass?”

  His smile widens, revealing a mouth full of straight white teeth. “I collect them. It’s real, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

  I clutch the pass tightly, as if its magical properties might escape my grip.

  “Thank you.” The words gush out right before I cut and run to first period.

  Chapter Two

  Rule #2: No Riding in Cars with Boys (but, if a boy offers to drive you home from school, have him drop you off at the end of the street)

  If I’ve learned anything in the last four months, it’s that sophomore year is all about following the rules and figuring out how to survive the epic complications of high school. Teachers don’t baby you like they do when you were a freshman. If you miss an assignment, you get an F. If you ignore school rules, batting your eyelashes and acting confused won’t get you a pass. Instead, you get detention.

  And, lucky me, my mom and dad have their own list of rules I also need to follow, because they like to go above and beyond the normal realm of reasonable parenting.

  This year is even tougher because my older sister Jana, who frequently kept my parents occupied with her nonstop drama, is off at college. We never hear from her, except for an occasional Sunday night phone call.

  So, that’s my tenth-grade situation. I can handle most of it, except for the boys. In sophomore year, guys pay more attention to certain changes in your appearance. Like when your chest seems to enlarge overnight. Or if you lose weight in other places because you really don’t have time to eat more than a bag of salty and strangely addictive kale chips, washed down with the pint of chocolate milk you picked up when you breezed through the cafeteria on the way to study hall. Suddenly, it’s like, hello, boys!

  Take today’s outfit, for example: a fitted gray tee paired with a black skater skirt and rhinestone-decorated flats. Jana would be proud of the way I pulled it off, not that she’d ever admit it out loud. Even Ayden Berrie’s eyes go wide when he passes me in the hallway after second period. He pauses. Backs up two steps. And blinks twice as he runs his hand through his spiky brown hair.

  “Uh, hey
, Collette.”

  He’s the worst at nonchalance. We hang out together all the time, because his best friend dates my best friend. But the boy only speaks directly to me when he wants help with homework. Or he needs to borrow lunch money. He somehow missed my six-month-long crush on him. When he started dating Emmy Pierce, I gave up on flirting and my interest in him never returned to its previous level of swoonery.

  “Hey, Ayden.” I step to my left, trying to get to my locker. He steps to his right and we nearly smash foreheads. We both step aside again and slide in the same direction. It’s like the most uncoordinated and frustrating dance in the world. I just want my damn precalc notebook.

  Surrendering first, I back up, giving him an abundance of space. Ayden shifts to the right once more. I scoot forward and click open my lock.

  “I wanted to talk to you about STEM mentoring,” he says.

  “Are you interested in helping out?”

  “Possibly. Mrs. McCaffrey said you’re in charge of the club.”

  I locate my notebook and hug it against my chest. “She asked me about it, but I haven’t gotten back to her yet. Maybe we should schedule a planning session. After school tomorrow?”

  “Or Friday night?”

  I’m sensing this conversation is setting me up for something other than STEM mentoring. Ayden’s weekend nights are typically reserved for bouncing around town with his soccer buddies.

  “Friday,” I repeat. “My sister’s coming home from college this weekend and I need to spend time with her. It’s one of our Rodriguez family rules. But I can check her schedule and let you know.”

  “Awesome. Want to go to Blake O’Conner’s house?”

  “Blake O’Conner on the football team? He wants to talk about STEM?”

  “No, his parents are out of town, so he’s having people over. The guys were talking about it at lunch. I thought you could go with me. We could talk about mentoring … and other stuff.”

  Spending Friday night with Ayden, no matter what we’re doing, can only mean one thing … it’s sort of a date. “Sure. I guess.”

  Ayden whips out his phone. “Jake said he and Mila might want to come with us.”

  “Really? Mila hasn’t mentioned anything.”

  Ayden’s friend Jake Cavey has dated my best friend Mila Sewick for almost a year. They’re the power couple of our sophomore class. No one else has lasted nearly as long without at least one ugly breakup.

  So … a double date-parents out of town-beer party-STEM Club meeting. Interesting.

  The warning bell rings and I hurry off, promising to text Ayden with more details about the club.

  I’m thirty-seconds late for class, but the lingering crowd at Mrs. McCaffrey’s desk blocks her view of the door, so she doesn’t notice me sliding into my desk after the bell. When everyone’s settled and working, she calls me up front.

  “Did you get a chance to look over the mentoring program information?” she asks.

  “Quickly. Also, I talked to Ayden Berrie.” I shift my weight from one leg to the other. “Do you think he’d be a better choice to run the group? He’s really into robotics.”

  “But you’re taking advanced math this year and participated in the club last year.” She pushes her glasses on top of her head. “Is there a reason why you can’t lead the program? Will this conflict with another club or sport?”

  “No.”

  “Any other issue?”

  I pause. “Not that I know of.”

  She smiles. “Then congratulations. I officially name you leader of STEM Club. Let me know if you have any questions.”

  After Precalculus, I meet up with Mila in Biology. We’ve been friends and lab partners since we were paired together in the middle school science enrichment program.

  “I heard about STEM Club,” she says, twirling a long lock of hair through her hand. Since yesterday, she’s added more blond streaks over her natural light brown color. “Ayden’s pumped.”

  “Do you think he wants to be in charge?” I ask. “Because Mrs. McCaffrey seems pretty set on me running the group, but I don’t know if I can and Ayden seems like he wants to do it—”

  “No one wants to do it, Colette,” Mila says, cutting off my nervous chatter. “McCaffrey posted the sign-up sheet on her billboard months ago. None of the juniors or seniors want to be bothered, so she’s stuck with you.”

  “Or Ayden.”

  “Puh-leaze. McCaffrey asked you because she knows you’re the only person who can handle this. Can you see Ayden dealing with a bunch of middle schoolers? He likes to build things, not babysit.”

  Dr. Brownstein hands me a copy of today’s lab assignment.

  “What about you?” I whisper, after he walks away.

  Pressing up on her toes, Mila reaches for a box of slides on the top shelf. “What about me?”

  “You could run it.”

  She opens the box and holds a slide up to the light. “McCaffrey doesn’t know me at all. I have Stevens for math this year. So, it’s you. Or no one.” She places the slide under a microscope and turns the knob to sharpen the focus. “I’ll help you, though. Jake, too. I’ll cover chemistry and Jake can talk about coding.”

  Because Mila and her boyfriend will gladly rebuild the pyramids of Egypt for extra credit, as long as they can do it together.

  With Ayden to cover robotics, Mila taking over chemistry, Jake for technology, and my math skills, the mentoring team should be well-rounded and solid. If not, at least the four of us will go down in flames together.

  ***

  After school, Ayden waits by the cafeteria exit, the closest door to my locker. I’d be lying if I didn’t admit how much his sudden attention throws me for a loop. Will the party on Friday be the one moment we need to shift from friends to something more? Is this our destiny? Am I even ready for something more?

  “We could talk about STEM Club while I drive you home,” he says.

  Or I might be reading too much into the situation.

  As we head out to the parking lot, I think of my dad’s “no riding in cars with boys” policy and need to restrain myself from wincing. Ayden’s one of the earliest drivers in our sophomore class and the first of my friends to have their own car. My mind churns through rule-bending possibilities, but the fact remains that Adyen’s a boy and he’s driving me home. Maybe he shouldn’t drive me all the way home. Can I get out at the halfway point?

  My foot slides on a patch of ice. Ayden takes hold of my arm, and I shoot him a grateful smile. We duck into his metallic silver two-door, not exactly a vehicle that easily escapes parental notice, and he zips into the line of cars waiting to turn out of the parking lot.

  “So, what’s this mentoring program all about?” He taps his fingers on the steering wheel, matching the beat of the turn signal.

  “It was sort of a last-minute club we threw together last year. One of the middle school teachers called Mrs. McCaffrey and she recruited a bunch of us to work with the kids. The first day, only Andy and I showed up. We ran a series of math and science activities. Tried to get the kids excited about engineering through projects and competitions. It’s fun, if you like that kind of stuff.” Okay, not the best sales job, but the kids had a blast and Andy was a great partner. Like me, he genuinely loves math.

  “It would be great if you could explain robotics,” I add, glancing shyly at Ayden. I’m truly happy to have him join the club. Not only because I think he’s completely adorable.

  My invitation launches a long discussion of actuators and pressure sensors. Whew. At least we’re not struggling to come up with conversation topics. I learn that as a member of the build team, Ayden designs and assembles prototypes. Jake and the other tech gurus code the software that makes Ayden’s wired parts move on command. At least, that’s my interpretation of how the whole thing works.

  “Can you drop me off at the end of my street?” I ask when my house is close enough for someone to spot me getting out of Ayden’s car. “The snow plow hasn’t cl
eared our side of town.”

  Nodding, Ayden pumps the brakes. “Do you have my number?” He reaches for his phone and sends me a quick text.

  I duck out of the car, pretending to be happy about sloshing through the snow and ice covering the sidewalk. Before the plow truck returns, I need to find a way to change the rule about riding in a boy’s car. It’s currently near the top of my parents’ long list of unacceptable activities. Typically, moving an item from the unacceptable to the acceptable column requires a lot of time and effort on my part. Also, I’m thinking beer parties on Friday nights might fall into an unacceptable category, but I can leave out a few details and talk up the mentoring club when I ask Mom if it’s okay to go out.

  I press through the door of our three-story brick townhouse and nearly crash into Jana, who’s loitering at the front window.

  “You’re home already?” I slip around her and head toward the kitchen, avoiding her suspicious eyes. “It’s only Wednesday.”

  “They canceled classes because it’s supposed to snow at State U. Happy to see me, little sister?”

  I sense that deep down Jana does in fact love me. She just has a hard time showing it. Which is weird, because she’s not a completely horrible person … but it’s like she refuses to admit how much we have in common; long dark hair (hers has more of a wave), same basic shape (she has a few more curves, though) and dark brown eyes (pretty much indistinguishable). So, she spends a lot of time pointing out my shortcomings instead.

  Perched on a stool in the kitchen, Jana’s boyfriend Ben swigs milk from a carton. “Hey, Colette. You look, um, taller.” His eyebrows shoot up when he sees me standing next to my sister.

  “Possibly. I haven’t measured myself lately.” I pass my hand over top of my head, comparing my height to Jana’s. “How’s everything, Ben? You’re looking …”

  “Sexier?” he asks, flexing.