Free Rule #9 by Sheri Duff Page A

depressing. I’d much rather read a romance novel about sweet baseball players who stick up for their girl, even though boys like that don’t really exist. Not that I like baseball players, because I don’t. I’d want them to be football players.
    I wish I could find a boyfriend to confide in. Is finding a boy who can be my friend too much to ask for? I want a boyfriend who will listen to me. Really listen, not like my dad used to listen to my mom, with one-word or grunting responses. I want a boy who will give a crap. And that stupid “yes, dear” is ridiculous, too. I don’t want to end up with some boy who will just do what I want to make me happy. If that’s all there is, I’ll settle for the convent. Even though I wouldn’t look good in a habit.
    Reeves stands in the back of the room talking to one of the football coaches about a new kid. “I hear he’s smart, reads the play quickly, and has a nose for the ball.” Great, a new football player for my dad to drool over.
    The bell jolts the class awake and it’s a race for the door.
    I find Natalie in the hall. Her head is down as she shuffles toward the commons. “You okay?” I lock my arm through Natalie’s.
    “Yeah, Colby’s a jerk. I should’ve known better. I totally jacked it up with Tyler, though. He won’t even talk to me.” Natalie allows me to drag her through the hall.
    “I wouldn’t talk to you either.” I won’t bullshit Natalie. She’d call me out if I tried. We tried to get her to go with the right boy, but Natalie has this habit of chasing the wrong boy. Not that my recent choices top my friends’. But that bad-boy image isn’t something I crave. Okay, I like bad boys, but I want a nice bad boy. Does that even make sense?
    If she wanted to, Natalie could date the nicest boy in the school, Tyler. He changed over the summer and he’s really cute. But no—she wants a hot, mean bad boy. She doesn’t believe she deserves better. In my opinion, Colby isn’t all that hot. I don’t care how the specks in his eyes sparkle when he smiles. The jerk doesn’t smile enough for the specks to make a difference, in my opinion.
    Natalie thinks so, though.
    Once we get through the lunch line I ask Natalie, “Where’s Vianna?” I look around the lunchroom. The commons is filled with those who can’t leave during lunch, either because they don’t own cars or they’re not supposed to leave. It’s not hard to escape the grounds. The security guard doesn’t check our IDs to confirm our open campus privilege. Which means most of the kids in the commons are freshman and makes for a loud forty minutes since their voices echo up the walls.
    Natalie finds an open table. She allows her plaid backpack to hit the floor, then slides her half-empty tray onto the table and sulks. “She ditched us for Hunter. They went off campus for—”
    “What?” I say. I can’t hear her.
    “Burritos,” she yells.
    I spot Colby sitting across the room, next to some freshman girl wearing his red-and-white Northridge letter jacket. “What the hell is he doing here?” I drop my backpack next to Natalie’s. He goes to the rival school, but his mom is the attendance lady at ours.
    “They deserve each other.” Natalie stares down at her food.
    “Nobody deserves that scumbag.” I look over to find Colby feeding the girl apples. What an idiot. “Think about it, Natalie. All he can get is freshmen.”
    “And me,” she says.
    Crap. I shouldn’t have said it. I hate that jackass.
    Colby catches my eye, his arm still wrapped around freshman girl’s neck. He tilts his head back and lips the words “hey baby.”
    “Can you believe him?” Natalie turns away, taking her plate along with her and not on purpose. I grab the plate before the celery sticks and plain chicken patty can topple onto my friend’s lap. My loud friend, full of fire most of the time, is letting this creep poor water over her. It really pisses me off.
    I look back at Colby. “Asshole,”