I'm procrastinating and I know it. I mean, I have an insane amount of homework, including calculus and a history essay, but why not just read for a few hours and push homework to the back of your mind for later, right? Maybe I should procrastinate a little less.

Oh well, I'll work on my procrastination issues another day.

I get halfway through the book before the guilt overrides the pleasure, and I end up researching sources for the history essay, and then completing it. When my hair starts to get in the way, I tie it into a French braid and secure it with a white ribbon at the end. The once-blank page is now filled with my black handwriting. Blowing the imaginary dust off of my polished essay, I tuck it into a folder in my bag to hand in.

I've decided I will simply avoid Asher Reed for the rest of the school year. Oh, scratch that. I'm going to avoid that boy for the rest of my life. I'll never be able to live that embarrassing interaction down.

It's been a week but I'm still reeling from our brief encounter. I avoid him at all costs, even when he's just a distant speck in the school hallway. Right now, though, I don't have much time to dwell on it. My babysitting customer's showing up in under an hour, and I couldn't be more thankful for the distraction. I need extra cash, and with school to worry about, this is the best I can do.

I told Mia I needed the money for books, which was only partly true. During the summer, I researched college textbook costs and I almost fell off my chair. Wait, I might've actually fallen off my chair. I decided then and there that if I was going to college, I needed to start planning. Plus, it wouldn't hurt to have a little extra cash to spare.

As if on cue, the doorbell rings. Racing downstairs, I open the door to find my first babysitting customer, Victoria, on the other side. She has kind eyes and a warm smile. Her light hair is pulled back into a low bun at the nape of her neck.

"Hi," she says. "Wren?"

I manage a smile. "That's me."

Lowering my gaze, I find a sweet, dimpled girl wearing a fairy dress hiding behind her mom. The girl's mouth is a puckered rosebud, and concern marks her soft, baby features.

"I love your dress," I say.

She releases her mother's legs hesitantly, looking up at me with hazel eyes that take up half her face. "Really?"

"Yep." I nod. "I can give you some fairy wings to match, if you like."

The girl looks up at her mom, then back at me, before dipping her head once. Then twice. Her movements are animated, and combined with those huge eyes, she might as well be a Pixar character.

"Wren," Victoria says, "this is Everly. Everly, Wren. She's going to look after you until Mommy comes back. Don't trouble her too much, okay?"

"Okay." Everly glances at me then pushes faintly at the back of her mom's legs. "You can go now. I won't trouble her, promise."

Victoria glances at me with a smile. "I'll be back at six."

I nod. "No problem."

The older woman's heels connect with the pavement of our driveway as she strides back to her car, opens her door with a smooth click, and slips in before reversing. Her Mercedes glides over the asphalt like butter, and soon she's nothing but a speck in the suburban distance. Anxious energy radiates off the little girl next to me; her bravado has no doubt worn off.

"So, Everly." I lean down and bundle her in my arms as I walk into the house. "What would you like to do today?"

She tilts her head, scrunching her features as her four-year-old mind forgets the worry, and a bit of that fluttery fairy energy returns. "Can we watch SpongeBob?"

She gives me a huge grin I didn't know she could pull and starts an off-key version of the SpongeBob SquarePants theme song. I place her down on the couch and switch on our flat screen.

"I like you, Wen," she says, her eyes glued to the screen. "You can call me Ever."

I can't help the smile that tugs at my lips. Or the ache in my chest. A few episodes later, I'm sitting on the couch next to Ever, completing an assignment. She laughs at something happening on the screen, her newly added wings dipping.

"Ever." A thought comes to mind. "Can you sit here for a moment while I go get something quickly?"

She nods as I rise from the couch. Upstairs in my room, I find a tiny, fragile-looking bracelet, small enough to fit perfectly on Ever's wrist. I found it at the beginning of the summer break while cleaning out my room, and I knew the bracelet would no longer fit me, but I couldn't bring myself to throw it away. Then, that stupid doorbell blares again. It's probably Victoria back to pick her up. Then again, it might not be . . .

"Ever!" I call out. "Don't open the—"

But by the time I'm at the bottom of the flight of narrow stairs, I hear voices.

Too late.

Both sound familiar. One belongs to Ever. The other is deeper. That is . . . not Victoria. Unless, you know, she got a voice box implant on the way back. Peeking from the hallway, I can just make out Ever in her dress and fairy wings. She stares up with absolute adoration at a boy.

"All right, Ev," he says. "Cough it up. I know you're only acting like an angel 'cause you've been bribed." He yanks the fairy wings on her back. "And what's with the wings?"

"Don't touch them!" Ever exclaims, swatting his hand away. "I like Wen. She's really nice to me. She gives me popcorn, and fairy wings, and she lets me watch SpongeBob. And she's pretty. And I really like popcorn."

I bite back a smile at the ringing endorsement, and decide to come out of hiding. But the smile drains from my face when I realize who the guy is. Eyes widening, I freeze.

It's Asher Reed—and he's staring back at me with equal curiosity. This time, I take in the dark-wash jeans and black long sleeve rolled up his forearms, revealing tanned skin. And I sense the cogs turning in his head while those deep-blue eyes don't hide his surprise. "Little Red?"

I glance uneasily at him. "You're Ever's . . ."

"Stuuupid brother!" Ever fills in for me.

"Watch it," Reed says, flicking his sister's forehead, ignoring her vibrant squeal of protest. When his eyes slide to mine, I avert my gaze quickly, fidgeting with the bracelet in my grasp. My plan to ignore him until the end of forever? It's already failed. Horribly.

"Ever." I clear my throat and hold out my hand. In my palm is the tiny pearl bracelet, just big enough to fit on her wrist. "This is for you, if you want. It used to be mine a long time ago."

Ever's eyes are glued to the bracelet. I take it as a good sign, so lean forward to fit the piece over her hand. Trying my best to ignore Reed's hard gaze, I focus on Ever as she immediately fiddles and gawks at her newfound trinket.

Reed sighs like this whole situation is nothing but an inconvenience to him. "Time to go, Ev."

She looks up at him with sleepy eyes and crossed brows. "But I wanna stay."

He shakes his head. "No can do, princess. Besides, you'll probably be back tomorrow."

Ever pouts with a hard-set look on her face that's meant to be intimidating but isn't, not really. Then she crawls into Reed's arms and up across his chest until she's settled on his shoulders. He holds on to her ankles, and when she tugs at his hair like Remy from Ratatouille, he doesn't protest.

As he walks to the door, I trail behind, my hands stretching out instinctively to make sure Ever doesn't fall. When Reed's gaze flickers to them, I catch myself, dropping them slightly to fidget with the doorknob instead as I shift my weight from left to right.

Reed tilts his head slightly as his eyes land on me. "Turns out the world is a big, scary place where you're going to bump into people, too, huh?"

It doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure that he's using my own words against me. Frowning, I open my mouth to reply, but my throat is impossibly dry, and nothing comes out.

"And since we both agree that the world is big and scary," he continues, edging closer, "I think we'll also agree that you shouldn't let the four-year-old open the door the next time." He leans down so our gazes are level, his deep-blue eyes so piercing my breath catches in my throat. "Okay?"

I nod slowly, lost for words, but amusement just flares in his gaze. My jaw slackens as I watch him turn and walk away. Ever fumbles in his grasp, yelling a bubbly, "Bye, Wen!"

Managing a smile, I wave back halfheartedly. But deep down? I'm cursing her stupid brother. Reed hasn't changed much from middle school. He's still a jerk. But if I don't want my first job to be a failure, I need to tolerate him. For the time being.

~

The next day, I take a seat toward the back of the English classroom. Seeing as there's still five minutes until the lesson starts, I ease in my earphones, and the first few chords of "Stressed Out" by Twenty One Pilots hum through my ears. Today, my timetable tells me that I have English lit in the third period. Other days it's in seventh, but either way, I find myself looking forward to it.

Rumbling and laughter slip over the sound of music, and I glance up from my desk as Asher Reed and his two best friends, or what I like to call the Pretty Boy Trio, step into the room.

"Yo, Miss Hutch," Zach murmurs by way of greeting.

She offers him a small smile in return. "Morning, Zachary."

Zach walks past me, flanked by the other third of the Pretty Boy Trio, Brody Knight. Brody's just as frustratingly good looking as his friends. With dark-brown hair and a warm, sun-kissed tan, he has that boy-next-door appeal nailed to a T. They take seats in the back row of the class but Reed stays back, his gaze dropping to me. My throat seizes, and I avert my eyes.

Then, he does the unthinkable. The unheard of. The dreaded.

He walks over.

Edges closer.

And slides into the seat right next to me.

Trying my best to ignore the lurch of my stomach, I lift my hand to my face in an extremely lame attempt to seem too busy to acknowledge him. But in actual fact? I'm hyperaware of how close he is to me. His friends are murmuring behind us while I pull on the frayed sleeves of my hoodie.

Reed turns in his seat to face them. "I'm gonna take a break from the back for a while," he says. "I think I need contacts."

Zack flips him the bird but Asher just laughs it off. "Seriously."

"Now I'm stuck with Brody," Zach laments.

Brody scoffs. "More like I'm stuck with your dumb ass."

I block out their banter. Once you get a seat it's a nonverbal tradition that you keep it for the rest of the year. Students, especially seniors, don't exactly like it when their routine is interrupted. Does this mean Reed is going to be sitting next to me for the entire year? Great. A dull ache is starting at my temple already.

Not long afterward, people file into the class. Some are clearly confused about why Reed isn't sitting at the back with his friends. Their eyes hop between their beloved hockey captain and me; I want nothing more than to sink into my seat.

Miss Hutchinson assigns us work and sits at her desk. I'm about to start writing when something tugs at my hoodie. Glancing sideways, I find Asher staring at me pensively. He cocks his head. "How do I not know your name yet?"

I stare at him blankly, offering him a noncommittal shrug.

"What is it?" he presses.

My brows pull together. "What's what?"

He sighs. "Your name."

I deadpan as I glance at him. "Beyoncé."

As soon as the word falls from my lips, I regret my very existence. The exact time at which life was breathed into my infant self. This is bad. This is very, very bad. If I could simply dissolve into the air, I would. Yep, I'm pretty darn sure that'll solve most, if not all, of my problems.

It's the longest period of my life.

But the universe is on my side, because after a torturous thirty-something minutes, the bell rings. I scramble from my desk and out of the classroom without a second thought. I don't look back, stopping only when I notice Mia waving me over from the lowest level of the cafeteria.

The shape of the cafeteria is a circle—a unique type of architecture of levels shaped as rings filling the space. The levels rise conically to meet at the highest point of the cafeteria. The more popular you are, the higher you sit. It's a food-chain kind of system that everyone falls into, because as much as people hate to admit it, they crave social hierarchy. Even if it means them not being at the top. We always want someone to place on a pedestal.

Placing my food on the table, I force a smile, but Mia knows something's up.

She reaches over and pokes my shoulder. "What happened?"

"Nothing," I lie. "I'm fine."

"I don't think so." She raises her brows. "Quit avoiding it."

I exhale, figuring Mia's not going to let it go easily, so I meet her dark gaze. "Reed sat next to me in English. And I blurted out something really stupid. Really, really, really stupid—"

"Hold up." She pauses, mouth open, fork in hand. "Reed as in Asher Reed?"

I make a face. "Well, are there any other Reeds you know who go to this school?"

"That boy is pretty as hell," she says, forking a baby tomato from her pasta into her mouth. "Why'd he sit next to you?"

I huff, ignoring her comment about his face, no matter how accurate it may be. "I'm babysitting his little sister, but I still don't see why he'd—"

Her eyes widen. "You're babysitting Reed's sister? Since when?"

"Yesterday."

"I didn't think you were being serious about the babysitting thing."

I shrug. "Well, yeah, of course I was. I need some extra cash. And I'm also saving up for one hundred books."

"Why would you want one hundred books?"

I'm about to say "Why wouldn't you?" but I hold back, choosing to explain. "I'm making those rainbow bookshelves you always see on Pinterest."

"Okay . . ." Mia passes me a disbelieving smile. "And now you've ended up with the devil's sister?"

"She's sweet," I counter. "Not like her brother."

My friend lifts a brow as she takes a bite from her pasta. Sensing tension, she changes the topic. "How're your applications coming along?"

"Okay so far. But there's this thing—" I reach over to poke my fork in her pasta, and she tries swatting me away. "I have to fill out what community service I've done. I've written them down but it doesn't look like it'll be enough."

"You're, like, supersmart," she says. "Why don't you try tutoring? The school's been looking for volunteers."

I'm about to shoot down her idea when I realize that she's onto something. Tutoring might be the only thing I can do. I glance back at her as she casually stabs at her pasta bowl.

"Actually," I say, "not a bad idea, M. You—" I pause as Mia's kohl-lined eyes widen at something behind me. I feel a presence, and before I can help it, I'm turning around. Asher Reed is leaning at my side. I stop moving—stop breathing—for a second.

Light fills his eyes, turning them crystalline as amusement glazes over them. "I've been looking for you."

"Oh." I swallow, barely managing to formulate the words in my mind. "Um . . . for what?"

"Wren," he says, and the way his low voice wraps around my name falls down my spine. "That's your name."

My stomach twists but Reed just winks—he actually winks—before striding to his group of friends at the highest level of the cafeteria. The buzz of the cafeteria morphs from a dull static to an incessant roaring in my ears. I feel Mia nudge my leg with her own, her eyes wide. "What. Was. That?"

But my mouth is all dried up, and by the time I find my voice, all I can manage is, "I have no idea."