No Place Like Homecoming Dallen, Maggie (best sales books of all time .TXT) 📖

PR person. Which was all fine and good when she was getting me out of trouble or making the rest of their socialite friends think that we were the perfect family, but now?

I didn’t want her spin. I wanted results.

“Do you have lunch after your next class?” she asked.

I nodded.

“Great! Me too. Come sit at my table.”

“Sure. Sounds good.” I headed to the next class, walked into a room full of stares, and then headed toward the back.

And straight toward Flynn.

He was slouched in his seat in the back row, that dark hair in his eyes and a row of empty seats between him and the rest of the class. “New girl,” he murmured by way of greeting as I walked past him toward an empty seat of my own.

“Rebel without a cause,” I muttered back.

His smirk made me want to slam my bag into the side of his head before setting it down.

I didn’t, of course. I wasn’t a fan of physical violence. It tended to mess with one’s nails.

I glanced over to see him buried in a book, like he’d already forgotten me.

Nope, I was not one for violence. But for this guy? I might be willing to make an exception. His self-righteous smugness grated on my nerves, and now pretending I didn’t exist?

I was not a fan.

I sank down in my seat with a sigh. I had a little time before class started, so I took out my phone and tortured myself some more by watching all my friends go on with their lives without me.

Taylor’s text from earlier was about homecoming. Of course it was. Senior year was everything she and I had been waiting for. Homecoming, prom...me being crowned queen at both.

That was what this year was all about.

Taylor: Homecoming nominations are all anyone is talking about. And it’s only the first day! Can you believe it?

I could believe it.

And then another she’d sent me along with a pic of her, Logan, and a few guys from our crew at lunch.

Taylor: Logan’s telling everyone you’re his date so, girl...you’d better get your butt back here by then.

I shut down texts and scrolled through photos. Logan was in nearly every one. He’d be voted homecoming king for sure. And everyone knew I was supposed to be his queen.

I would be his queen.

I had three weeks. Plenty of time, right? Three full weeks for my mom to work her magic and get me back home. But even if she didn’t…

I stared at the photo of Logan grinning amidst a group of girls who’d be all too ready to pounce if I didn’t stake my claim. He’d asked me to homecoming a month ago, back before the whole lipgloss incident.

Back when I was on track to have the perfect senior year.

I opened my phone’s browser and pulled up the airline my parents always used. Just in case my mom wasn’t as serious about getting me back where I belonged, it couldn’t hurt to take some precautionary measures.

I smiled as I clicked the dates and then entered the credit card number I knew by heart.

Nothing wrong with having a plan B.

Four

Flynn

I flinched when the teacher called my name. I’d come this close to making it through the day without an incident. Not that this was an incident, necessarily, but being called to stay after class was rarely a good thing.

Not to mention, Mr. Kern’s chem class was my last of the day, and I was supposed to be at Mrs. Messner’s shop in an hour to go over the details of my new job.

Willow was in the same class with me and she shot me a sympathetic wince before heading out.

Chem was my only AP class, and I wasn’t even sure how I’d gotten in. It wasn’t like I busted my butt at school. I wasn’t a total slacker, but I just had more on my plate than studying.

There’d be time for all that later. That was what my mom said, and it was the truth. There’d be a time and a place for school, but this wasn’t it. We had mouths to feed.

I’d heard that phrase often enough that there were days I imagined my little brothers to be more like little birds with their mouths open just waiting for me to come along and regurgitate some worms.

Awesome visual, right?

It was possible I’d watched too many nature docs when I couldn’t sleep. There was nothing more calming than Richard Attenborough’s voice when insomnia kicked in.

“Mr. Masterson,” my chem teacher said when I was the last one left.

The tension inside me ratcheted up another twenty notches at his use of my dad’s name. I wasn’t a fan of the reminder.

He held up a sheet and waved it. “I see you didn’t sign up to do a project for the science fair.”

I stared at him. He was kidding, right? Did I seem like the kind of guy who signed up for science fairs?

His smile was understanding. At least, I assumed he was going for understanding. The kind teacher who cared. I could practically see him reveling in the role. From where I was standing, he just looked patronizing.

“Look, Flynn, I get it. Science fairs aren’t cool.”

The way he stressed cool made me flinch. It made me think of Fonzie and Happy Days and the countless times my mom had made us watch the reruns when I was a kid.

He arched his brows and leaned forward like he was letting me in on a secret. “But these fairs are great for college applications. And what’s more, if you place, you’d be eligible for a scholarship.”

Applications. Scholarships. Did he have any idea how crazy he sounded right now?

“Okay. Great.” I took a couple steps backward toward the door. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“The sign-up closes next week,” he called after me.

I was already in the hallway when his voice reached me, shaking my head as I walked down the crowded hallway toward the parking lot.

The crowds moved quickly, and I headed