Page 9 of Rebel Summer

Then I was flying alongside a delicious-smelling cinnamon Pop-Tart before landing on something soft, and then I was gone again.

Biology Class

Day 2

Five minutes after the tardy bell rang, Dax Miller strolled into biology class, interrupting our teacher, Mr. Gray, in mid-sentence. He wore baggy jeans slung low at the hip, and a tight, black t-shirt. His hair, barely touching the tops of his ears, would almost be sexy, if it wasn’t Dax Miller. On a rocker in leather pants on a stage: yes. It would be sexy hair. Biology class: no.

“Thank you for joining us, Dax,” Mr. Gray remarked dryly.

“My pleasure, sir.” Dax shot him a lazy smile as he made his way toward his usual seat in the back.

“There’s been a change in lab partners,” Mr. Gray said. “Please take your new seat next to Ivy.”

Dax’s eyes found mine immediately, and I stiffened in my seat. I hadn’t been aware he’d even remembered my name for how little we’d ever interacted. After a moment’s hesitation, Dax changed course and moved languidly toward my desk, dropping into his seat with a sigh. Mr. Gray resumed his demonstration, and though I straightened and kept my eyes firmly forward, the picture of a model student, my mind was centered squarely on the body in the seat beside me.

Glancing over, I found that he had turned his head in my direction and was staring at me. Even when I met his gaze, he didn’t look away. Instead, he gave me a smile. The kind of smile that gives the impression that someone is laughing at you. My chin lifted as I looked back toward Mr. Gray. It was another long moment until he finally, blessedly, looked forward.

Apparently, when you wake up in a clinic, confused and having somehow crashed a golf cart into a private business, they send in the big dogs—unless, of course, you’re on a tiny island with little to no crime. Then they send in the only cop on the island, who just so happens to be Beau Palmer, an old friend from high school.

Which wasn’t mortifying in the least.

Within a half hour of waking, I had been poked, examined, and had blood extracted from my body for testing, all while being accused of being drunk or on something by my sweet father.

Even after I denied all of it.

Instead of asking how I was feeling or telling me how relieved he was that I hadn’t been hurt, he’d spent most of the morning pacing the hallway in the clinic on the phone, doing what he called damage control.

“I drank a Coke. Ask Cat. I was with her the whole time.”

“Then what happened?” Dad asked. “People ‘not on something’ don’t crash into buildings.” He held up his fingers in air quotes, causing my jaw to grow rigid.

“What building did I run into?”

“The mechanic’s shop. Crashed right through the huge glass entry and smashed into that big spinning Lego car.”

Suddenly, a few of the puzzle pieces clicked together. The mechanic. The sound of Dax’s voice. I leaned my head back onto my pillow. I crashed into Dax Miller’s shop. Apparently, he wasn’t making license plates in an orange jumpsuit somewhere.

“Remember him?” My dad’s piercing gaze locked onto mine. “The kid with all the tattoos? I’ll bet you do. We’re going to have to pay out the nose to keep him quiet.”

Thankfully, soon after this, Beau the cop knocked on the door and sent my dad and Angela away so he could grab a statement. It took my brain a minute to get used to the idea of seeing Beau dressed as a cop. He was that classic tall, dark-haired guy that most girls on the island had been in love with. And I couldn’t blame them. He had a sweet, teasing smile that automatically put a person at ease—unless that person was being officially questioned by Beau the COP. Then it was much more difficult to relax. Between thoughts of Dax Miller and now Beau Palmer, it was like having a high school reunion from my nightmares.

After some small talk, he got down to business, leaning back in his chair. “Okay, I want you to tell me what happened last night in your own words, as far as you can remember everything.”

I filled him in on all my flight delays, my headache, and our walk along the beach.

“I was with Cat Keene almost the whole time. She can verify my non-existent alcohol intake.” I rubbed at the dull ache at my temples.

“You said you had a headache?” Beau looked down at his notes.

“Yeah.”

“Did you take anything for it?”

“Just some Tylenol.”

“When did you take the pills?”

I thought for a moment. “When I was on the beach with Cat.”

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