Free Trapped by Melody Carlson Page A

handsome tux but not looking nearly as interesting as Bryant. Even Avery’s cream-colored dress seems a little drab and predictable. For Clayton’s sake, I try to act much happier than I’m feeling right now. And I can tell it bothers him. A while later, I even catch him gazing at me, almost longingly or perhaps with regret. It’s everything I had hoped for tonight. And yet I get no satisfaction.
    As the evening progresses, I feel myself becoming more and more obsessed with Kelsey Nelson. I can’t seem to escape the painful realization of how she’s such a lying cheat. Or how she pulled me into her selfish schemes. Or how she so cleverly tricked me into feeling sorry for her. It keeps running through my mind like the headline on a reader board: Airheaded Cheerleader Triumphs Over Academic Nerd.
    Oh sure, I know I had a choice in the matter. I could’ve done it all differently. But like a dope, I fell for the bait. I almost wonder if she didn’t plan it all like that. Perhaps she wanted me to keep her bracelet and use it the way I did. That way I’d be in just as deep as she is.
    As I dance and smile and laugh, putting on the act of my life, all in the hopes that Bryant isn’t too disappointed in his date — especially after the time and effort he’s invested in tonight — all I can think of is that I am a complete and utter fool. As we dance to the music, four words keep reverberating through my brain, repeating themselves with the beat: You’re such a fool, you’re such a fool, you’re such a fool …

. . . [CHAPTER 7]. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
    O n Sunday morning, my dad comes into my room with a big grin. “We have a surprise for you today. Get up and get dressed ASAP.”
    â€œAre we going to church?” I look groggily at my clock to see it’s barely eight. I didn’t get home until after one last night, and then I didn’t sleep well.
    â€œNo, we’ll miss church today. But it’ll be worth it. You’ll see.”
    So not knowing what I’m in for, I get dressed and let Rory out into the backyard, then go out to find my parents already in the car. “Let’s get out of here,” Dad says, backing his car out of the garage. “We’ll nab a bite to eat on our way.”
    â€œAnd the sooner we’re out of town, the better,” Mom explains. “Just in case the hospital calls and tries to get me to come in to work.”
    Before long, Dad’s on the freeway, and after about an hour, he finally stops at a Starbucks and we get coffee and pastries to go. “Just enough to tide us over until we get there,” he tells me. “We have reservations for lunch.”
    We’re going north, but I have no idea what the destination is … nor do I care. After I finish my coffee and muffin, I fall asleep. When I wake up, the car has stopped and Dad is getting out.
    â€œHere we are,” he announces as he opens the back door.
    I sit up and blink, getting my bearings. “Where?”
    â€œStanford.” Mom hands me an envelope. “It came in yesterday’s mail, and with all the excitement over the dance, I forgot to tell you about it.”
    â€œIt’s opened,” I say as I slip out the crisp letter and examine the impressive Stanford heading on the stationery.
    â€œSorry,” she says. “But I was dying of curiosity, and Dad said it was okay so I took a peek. Congratulations, GraceAnn!”
    I’m skimming the words, but it’s clearly an acceptance letter. “I’m accepted,” I say quietly. “I’m really accepted.”
    â€œCongratulations!” Dad grins and reaches for my hand. “Now, come on, sleepyhead, we’re burning daylight.”
    I grab my bag and allow my dad to pull me from the car. “Stanford?” I look around, taking in yellow adobe buildings, red tile roofs, palm trees. It’s very pretty, but I