Free Rebel, Bully, Geek, Pariah by Erin Jade Lange

my head down and try to survive high school.
    Alone in the hallway, I squared my shoulders and lifted my chin.
    I’m glad he didn’t look at me
.
    But the problem with having only yourself to talk to is you always know when you’re lying.
    Â 
    9
    AS SOON AS the SUV started moving, uncertainty set in.
    â€œWhere are we going?” I asked.
    â€œOur house?” Boston suggested as he pulled onto the road.
    â€œHell no,” York answered. He turned to us in the backseat. “What about you guys? Are your parents home?”
    â€œYes,” I said.
    Andi looked away from us, out the window. “My dad’s always home.”
    â€œAre they cool?” York pressed. “Can they help us?”
    Andi let out a low, sarcastic laugh. “Yeah, right.”
    â€œMy mom’s cool,” I said. “But not this cool.”
    For all Mama’s run-ins with the law, when it came to me getting in trouble, she was decidedly
un
cool. The way she lectured me about drugs and sex and anything criminal, you’d think
I
was the one with the bad habits. I guess she just worried that she’d passed on more to me than her green eyes.
    â€œWe could go to the cabin,” Boston offered, but he didn’t sound too sure.
    York faced forward again and seemed to consider the idea for a moment. “It’s far,” he finally said.
    Boston shrugged. “Not
that
far.”
    â€œMaybe just far enough,” York mused.
    â€œYou think?”
    â€œI think.”
    â€œHey, Tweedledee and Tweedledum,” Andi said. “You want to fill us in?”
    â€œThere’s a . . .” Boston hesitated and cast a sidelong glance at York. “We have a cabin.” He stopped at a red light and drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, craning his neck around as if expecting police to surround us at any moment.
    â€œYeah, we got that,” I said wearily. “Where?”
    â€œNorth,” York answered. “About an hour. Right before you get to Wisconsin. We’ll just go there long enough to figure out what to do.”
    Andi looked at me. “What do you think?”
    I think driving out to the middle of nowhere to some deserted cabin with two boys I don’t really know is the kind of genius idea that gets girls raped and murdered in the movies. But the blond bimbo always gets killed first, and since neither of us is a blond bimbo, maybe this won’t turn into a slasher flick.
    â€œI don’t have a better idea,” I said.
    â€œWe can’t be driving around town in a stolen cop car,” York pressed.
    â€œWe shouldn’t be driving
anywhere
in a stolen cop car,” I argued.
    What a colossally bad idea it had been to get back into this SUV.
    â€œWe should drive it right to a police station,” Boston said.
    Agreed
.
    â€œI told you . . . ,” York said.
    â€œI know, I know.” Boston waved off York with one hand. “You don’t want to get a DUI.”
    â€œI don’t want to get arrested for killing a cop!”
    â€œDon’t say that again,” Boston said. The light turned green, and he pressed the gas, careful to stay under the speed limit.
    A fifth voice spoke up then, quieter than ours and muffled.
    â€œAttention.”
    The sound sucked the air out of the SUV.
    â€œAttention,” the distant voice repeated.
    â€œI thought you turned the radio off,” York said, running his fingers over the knobs and dials.
    â€œI did, I did. It’s off!” Boston insisted.
    The voice spoke once more, and this time it sent a chill down my spine.
    â€œAttention, all you little bitches in the stolen car.”
    The others looked around, searching high and low for the source of the voice, but I had already found it. I raised a shaky hand and pointed to the glove compartment in front of York.
    â€œGet off the main road,” York ordered Boston, who obediently turned down a dark side