Free Gilt Hollow by Lorie Langdon

like a delicate fashion plate, but she was also a New Yorker.
    Mrs. Adders, the instructor, clapped her hands three times. “Students! Find your seats. We have a lot to cover before our concert next month.”
    Yolanda narrowed her black-lined eyes. “I’d rather be in the front row than near you two tone-deaf crows. Come on, O.” Grabbing their things, she shoved her way into the front row, Ona on her tail.
    “At least I don’t smell like I use skunk oil for deodorant!” Lisa tossed after them. “Take a bath once in a while!”
    Willow lifted her sheet music folder to hide her idiotic grin.
    “What is that stench, anyway?” Lisa hissed out of the side of her mouth as they began to sing scales .
    “You know, Patchouli— mi mi mi mi mi— everyone wears it.”
    “Do . . . re . . . mi . . . fa . . . so . . . la . . . ti—”
    “ Oh , is that the reek I smell every time I walk into this building? I thought it was just clove cigarettes,” Lisa muttered.
    “Open your folders to page sixteen of your song books,” Mrs. Adders directed.
    “That too,” Willow replied.
    “I’m just glad you don’t wear it. Might’ve been a deal breaker.” Lisa read the title of their new piece and smirked, one perfectly made-up eye flashing in a wink before she waved her copy of Send in the Clowns above her head. “Oh look, Yo, it’s a song just for you!”
    Willow doubled over laughing.
    ■ ■ ■
    After giggling their way through several more songs and earning a stern talking to by Mrs. Adders, Willow and Lisa headed to their lockers. Imitating the look on Yolanda’s face when Lisa shouted they were singing her song and the entire room burst into laughter, Willow didn’t at first notice the hush in the air. Groups of students clustered together, whispering behind their hands, others ducking into their lockers like turtles.
    As Willow reached into her own locker, she felt a shift in the atmosphere and the hairs rise on the back of her neck. She turned in slow motion, and all the air whooshed out of her lungs. Waves of dark-tousled hair falling over midnight-blue eyes, broad shoulders thrown back, cargo pants carelessly tucked into combat boots, Ashton Keller sauntered down the senior hallway confident yet alert, as if an attack could come from any side—and he was ready for it.
    A gasp sounded from nearby. “Is that who I think it is?”
    His name ricocheted like an out-of-control Ping-Pong ball, as more and more students flocked to the scene.
    Coolly indifferent, Ashton didn’t seem aware of the disturbance around him. His eyes shifted in Willow’s direction, pinning her to the spot, then without a change of expression slid away to a cute redhead walking toward him. His lips tilted in a slow grin. After a startled blink, she returned his smile with a tentative one of her own.
    “Holy hotness, what is he doing here?” Lisa hissed in her ear.
    Willow had forgotten her friend still stood beside her. Pain pierced her consciousness, and she peeled herself away from the metal shelves digging into her back. She was practically inside her stupid locker. With growing disgust, she spun around and threw her songbook onto the shelf and then grabbed the text and notebook for her next class. She slammed the metal door with so much force it bounced back and smacked her knee.
    “Ugh!” She kicked it, this time making sure it closed.
    “Lamott, talk to me.” Lisa adjusted the string bag on her shoulder and followed Willow to the stairs, whispering, “Can’t have you going into overload mode.”
    “Too late,” Willow spat. “What the heck is he doing? Does he think people will welcome him with open arms? That they’ve forgotten? Did you see the way he looked at me? Like I don’t even exist?”
    “Yes, I get it. He’s an idiot.” Lisa tugged on Willow’s sweater. “Slow down, Speed Racer.”
    Realizing her legs had sped up with every word out of her mouth, and that she’d practically run to Advanced Lit class, she