Read an Excerpt
Daring the Bad Boy
An Endless Summer Novel
By Monica Murphy, Stacy Abrams Entangled Publishing, LLC
Copyright © 2016 Monica Murphy
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-63375-721-9
CHAPTER 1
Annie
"Don't forget to pack extras of everything," Mom stressed, her voice high, her entire demeanor anxious. She really didn't want me to leave, though she was the one who'd suggested I go to camp in the first place. And I guess I can't blame her, since I am her only child, but it's just for a few weeks — I had to be wait-listed, and when a spot opened up for the second session, I begged my parents to let me go.
But with the way she's fretting over my leaving, I realize she needs to cut the umbilical cord sometime. At least I'll be outside getting fresh air, not stuck in the air-conditioned house with my nose in a book. That's how I usually spend my summers.
Well, no more.
Not that there's anything wrong with reading, but ... it was my escape, my safe place. I'm tired of living in someone else's imaginary world — I want to live in my world for once. But it's hard making a new impression on people you've known your entire school life, some of them since preschool.
To them I'm quiet little Annie McFarland. The girl who cried so hard on the first day of kindergarten that she blew a bubble of snot out her nose. The girl who was so petrified to perform in the third-grade Christmas play that her knees literally knocked together and everyone could hear them. The girl who had a major crush on Wade Johnson in sixth grade and wrote him a heartfelt Valentine's Day poem — and he shared it with all his friends.
I endured their teasing for the rest of the school year. Sixth grade was definitely not my favorite year.
Yeah. I could go on and on.
I'd just finished my sophomore year, and while everyone was busy pairing off, being social, actually doing something with their lives, I was stuck. Stuck in my quiet shell, stuck with the nerd-girl label, stuck as the teacher's pet. I hated it.
More than anything, I was beyond ready for a change.
"Extra T-shirts, extra shorts." Mom ticked off the items with her fingers, her gaze meeting mine. "Extra, um, feminine products."
My cheeks went hot. "I've already packed extra everything." I waved a hand at my open but mostly stuffed duffel bag.
"Okay, good. Good. Wouldn't want you to run out of necessities. Though I fully plan on sending you care packages. And there's parents' weekend, too, so I can always bring you whatever you might need." Mom was rambling. A sure sign she was upset.
"Mom." I went to her and took her hand, giving it a squeeze. "I don't leave for another twenty-four hours. It's not time to cry yet."
"I'll just miss you." She brushed a stray hair away from my forehead, her gaze soft. "You've never left us like this before, for this long. A whole month, hundreds of miles away. With strangers." She stressed the last word.
That was my favorite part of the plan. Being with strangers, people who don't know the real me. I could totally reinvent myself. Be whoever I wanted to be. I could demand they call me Ann, tell them I'm the most popular girl at my school, and win the attention of all the hot boys within hours of my arrival.
Though I doubted any of that would really happen. Just because I'm with people who don't know me doesn't mean my real self won't make an immediate appearance. It's hard for me to open up to new people. Plus, I really don't like it when someone calls me Ann — I think Annie's a much cuter name. And I've never gotten the attention of a hot boy in my entire life. Well, I have — hello, Wade Johnson — but that was unwanted attention. That I'm great at.
I'd like to change that particularly annoying trait of mine.
Okay, I'm not drop-dead gorgeous with a bubbly, flirtatious personality, not by a long shot. I'm not a hideous troll, either, but come on. Hot guys have never noticed me — unless they're six and I'm blowing snot bubbles out my nose. Or I write really bad poetry that makes adolescent boys howl with laughter. And that's not the way I want boys to notice me.
"I'll be fine," I reassured Mom, offering her a smile in return, which somehow only seemed to upset her more. Her chin got all wobbly, and she yanked me into her arms, holding me close. I let her smother me with Mom love for a few minutes before I disentangled myself from her embrace. "Seriously, it's going to be okay. I'll write you and Dad as much as I can."
"Which shouldn't be very much at all. I want you to meet new people and try new things. You need to stay busy and have fun. Don't worry about us." She wagged her finger at me before her hand dropped to her side. "I know you feel a little stifled here, so this will be good for you."
Mom understood. She always had. We moved here when I was two, back to Dad's hometown; he felt right at home because he was home. Mom, on the other hand, was still considered an outsider, and they'd always treated her that way. So she knew what it was like, to feel like you didn't fit in. She understood my problems at school, when Dad always blew them off. Not that he was mean about it. He just didn't get it.
"It's going to be great," I told Mom with a genuine smile. My heart did a funny little flip in the center of my chest and I breathed deeply, telling myself everything really would be great.
Going to camp was going to change my life.
* * *
Jake
One month earlier
"You're going. I know this is a last-minute decision and you're probably pissed that you have to leave tomorrow, but too damn bad, Jacob. You're out of here." Dad's voice was firm, simmering with anger. His eyes blazed with barely withheld fury as he glared at me. He was super pissed, but what else was new? "And that's final. No arguments, no defiance, no threats that you'll run away. The second you leave this house without my permission, I'm calling the cops. And they will lock you up. Thanks to your latest mishap, that's guaranteed."
I stared at him, my arms crossed in front of my chest, my jaw clenched so tight I felt like I could crush my teeth into powder. My uncle's summer camp held good memories. Back when I was a kid and had no cares in the world, and my main priorities had been swimming in the lake and hanging out with friends.
But those days were a long time ago.
Now I didn't want to go back. There was no point. I was a different person. Not just older, but freaking wiser.
Well. Maybe not wiser. I kept fucking up, like I couldn't help myself. That latest mishap Dad was talking about? Stealing hubcaps off fancy cars in the middle of the night with my so-called friends. We'd been drinking. I'd been dared. The moment the cops showed up, they all bailed on me. Every last one of them, and I was royally busted. They booked me like a real criminal, taking my photo, getting my fingerprints. I'd nearly pissed my pants I was so scared.
Never let them see it, though. Just kept my mouth shut and glared at everyone. When Dad showed up to bail me out, I almost went weak with relief. I believed I was home free — until he got me into the car and proceeded to yell the entire drive home.
That was the first clue that I'd have to finally pay for my sins.
Dad went with me to my court appearance and asked to speak to the judge. I thought he would plead my case. Tell the scowling middle-aged woman with glasses perched on the tip of her nose that I really was a good kid. I just needed another chance.
Nope. Dad chucked me so far under the bus, I still have tire marks across my stomach. He told the judge I was a screwup, a failure, a disappointment, and that he was afraid for my future. He then promised her if she gave me community service, he'd make sure I did my time by working at my uncle's summer camp under strict supervision.
She'd agreed.
And now here I am, going to camp and having to work with a bunch of asshole kids who'll give me nothing but crap over the next two months. The only thing that was giving me hope? The possibility there would be plenty of pretty counselors with a bad-boy fetish. I'll be willing to fulfill whatever fantasy they have, as long as we can do it on the down low. My uncle gets one whiff of me doing something wrong, and I'm a dead man. I'll end up in juvenile hall or, worse, in freaking jail. My dad'll make sure I pay for my mistakes.
"Fine," I muttered, dropping my head so I didn't have to look him in the eye. Seeing the disappointment there, all the anger and frustration, I couldn't take it anymore. "I'll go."
His deep sigh of relief was loud, and hearing it didn't make me feel any better. We sat in the living room, Dad in his recliner, me on the couch. I let my arms drop to my sides and took a deep breath, glancing around the room. It was small, narrow, no pictures on the wall, no homey touches. A total bachelor pad, Dad had told me when we moved in to the place, like that was going to appeal to fourteen-year-old me.
After Mom died, Dad sold our house — too full of memories, he'd said, his expression pained — and we rented this shitty little two-story condo. A temporary move, he'd reassured me. The place was old but centrally located in single-dom paradise. As in, there were plenty of divorced women who lived in this complex who were hot for my dad.
And it sucked. Mom's dying had completely messed with my head. But Dad's moving us away from the only home I'd ever known had pushed me over the edge. The more trouble I got into, the more attention I received. It didn't matter if it was bad or good; at least someone was looking at me. Acknowledging me. Telling me I mattered.
Sort of.
"Spending the summer with your uncle Bob is just what you need," Dad said, his expression softening, the anger slowly dissipating because I didn't protest or get angry. Why fight it? At least at camp, I'd have some freedom.
I'd be working my ass off and under Uncle Bob's thumb all the time, but what else could I do?
"Though just because you're surrounded by a bunch of young girls doesn't mean you should touch any of them." The pointed look Dad sent my way almost made me want to laugh.
Almost.
"They're off-limits. Forbidden. The campers, at least. You have to follow your uncle's rules. The counselors, they're your peers, but I wouldn't recommend you messing around with any of them, either. You don't need the distraction." He paused. "You mess up once, and you'll end up in juvie. Understand?"
I nodded. Whatever. I'd mess around with whoever I wanted, whenever I wanted. I'd freaking need the distraction so I wouldn't lose my mind having to work for Uncle Bob all summer long.
"You'll get out of here." Away from my friends. "You'll meet new people." Who aren't my friends. "You'll earn a little money and save it up." So I can buy my own cigarettes or weed or whatever I want and not have to ask for cash from you. "And you might learn a thing or two."
Yeah, right.
But instead of saying any of that, I nodded like I agreed and stood, finally meeting his gaze. His eyes weren't blazing with so much frustration anymore, and I felt like I'd jumped over the first hurdle. "I'd better go pack, then," I told him, and left the room.
Never looked back once, either.
CHAPTER 2
Annie
The bus ride was long, the road twisty enough to make my stomach pitch and roll like I was on a boat in the middle of an ocean storm. I tried to ignore it by slipping in my earbuds and closing my eyes, concentrating on my newly created playlist on my old iPod Touch, but it was no use. I ended up nauseous and trying my best not to hurl by the time the bus arrived at camp.
I was pretty sure it wasn't just the ride that made me sick to my stomach, though. I was super nervous, too. What if I had a hard time making friends? What if I couldn't open up? Back at school, I was known for being shy. Quiet. I kept to myself, kept my head down, got good grades.
In other words, I was totally boring. My guidance counselor told me as much when I met with her right before school ended.
"You're such a bright girl, but grades alone won't get you into the college of your choice," she'd reminded me. "They want someone well-rounded. A student who's both smart and social — the total package."
"The total package." Those words struck fear in my heart because I knew without a doubt I'm not the total package. Not by a long shot.
I was just ... me.
Well, this was the summer of freedom. Of bravery. I needed to prove to myself that I could be more than just ... me. I could become the total package and go back to school ready to conquer all. Join clubs, maintain my GPA, and maybe even lead a cheer.
Okay. That last one might be a stretch, but I could probably lead the school, right? Join student council? I'd always wanted to do that but figured I wasn't popular enough.
Summer camp was the perfect place to put my newfound bravery to work. How many books had I read where the nerdy girl went away to summer camp, transformed herself, made a ton of new friends, and got the hottest guy by the end of the summer? Too many to mention, and every one of those stories made me sigh with longing when I finished.
I wanted to be that girl. I wanted to be brave, make friends, accomplish something that I've always been too scared to do, and I wanted to end up with the hottest guy at camp by the end of the summer. I could do it.
Seriously. I could.
A very official-looking girl who couldn't be much older than me stood by the flagpole holding a clipboard, a whistle on a cord hanging around her neck. Her hair was a glossy brown and hung perfectly straight just to her shoulders. She wore a T-shirt with the camp emblem on the front, and she smiled as everyone milled around, not appearing fazed by all the loud chatter and squeals, girls hugging each other like they were long-lost friends finally reunited.
Like a loser, I stood there completely alone. For my age, I knew I was late in going to summer camp, and it looked like everyone else had already been coming here for ages. Plus, I was here for only the second session, so I was totally late to the party.
As I glanced around and saw girls and boys breaking off into groups of three and four, I was one of the only girls with no one to talk to. My instant reaction was to retreat. The old me would've stood beneath a tree with my earbuds in and my music loud, my gaze glued to my ancient iPod — no phones worked up here since the reception was bad — like I was alone on purpose.
But the new me, the daring and brave me, lifted her chin, contemplating the group of girls standing the closest. They were all really pretty with perfect hair and makeup, wearing cute clothes I could only dream of affording. I took a hesitant step, then another one, ready to approach them, when someone tapped me on the shoulder.
I turned to find a very tall, very thin girl standing in front of me, a friendly smile stretching her mouth wide, her dark brown eyes meeting mine. "Hi!" she chirped, like I should know exactly who she is. "It's been sooo long, right?"
Frowning, I answered, "Sure?" Was she messing with me or what?
"I mean, it feels like I haven't been here in forever. And then I see you." She paused, as if waiting for me to answer with my name.
So I do.
"Annie."
"Right! Annie." She nodded, her smile growing wider. "Anyway, Annie. It's so freaking good to see you again. I've been waiting all year for our reunion." She pulled me into her arms, hugging me tightly, and I had no choice but to hug her back.
"Um, I missed you, too ..." My voice drifted and I worried for a moment that this girl could be a total wack job. Or she was playing a trick on me.
"Kelsey." She pulled away from me, her hands still gripping my shoulders. "I'm sorry I never wrote. I lost your address."
"More like you never had it," I reminded her.
Her nose scrunched up, drawing my attention to the many freckles covering it. "Well, you've always been a little selfish when it comes to revealing your true self."
This girl was more on point than she realized. "You know I'm a private person," I said with a smile.
"Right. I get it. I do. This is why we're the best of camp friends." Kelsey started to laugh and gave my shoulders a little shake. "I scare you, don't I?"
"Sort of," I admitted, which only made her laugh harder.
(Continues...)
Excerpted from Daring the Bad Boy by Monica Murphy, Stacy Abrams. Copyright © 2016 Monica Murphy. Excerpted by permission of Entangled Publishing, LLC.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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