Nothing but Trouble after Midnight
by Kimberly Blackadar
Copyright 2014 by Kimberly Blackadar
Table of Contents
Prologue - The Story of the Seven Cs
Chapter 1 - Key Players
Chapter 2 - First Impressions
Chapter 3 - Better Than Hallmark
Chapter 4 - The Seven Cs
Chapter 5 - Tabula Rasa
Chapter 6 - Brown Paper Bag
Chapter 7 - Making the Grade
Chapter 8 - Table Talk
Chapter 9 - First Kiss
Chapter 10 - Much Ado about Nothing
Chapter 11 - Big Brother
Chapter 12 - Dinner
Chapter 13 - And a Movie
Chapter 14 - The Bet
Chapter 15 - Real Date
Chapter 16 - Rewriting History
Chapter 17 - The Four Fs
Chapter 18 - The Schedule
Chapter 19 - Prom Night
Chapter 20 - After Party
Chapter 21 - Sweet Dreams
Chapter 22 - Sex Talk
Chapter 23 - His Answer
Chapter 24 - Last Kiss
Chapter 25 - Trouble
Chapter 26 - The Light
Chapter 27 - The Truth
Chapter 28 - The Aftermath
Chapter 29 - Grandma’s House
Chapter 30 - Homecoming
Chapter 31 - Routines
Chapter 32 - The Ending
Chapter 33 - A New Beginning
About Kimberly Blackadar
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Prologue: The Story of the Seven Cs
In sixth grade, a friendship formed under the strangest conditions. A gym teacher placed the girls on one side of the gym, and the guys on the other, sitting them alphabetically—by their first names. So it was in last period gym class, two sets of best friends—Courtney and Chloe, Caitlyn and Carly— lined up with Callie, Christina, and Cynthia. Never remembering their names, the teacher simply referred to them as the “Seven Cs.”
Yes, the fates of alliteration brought seven very different girls together, forming a circle that no other circumstance would ever create. The seven soon ate lunch together, sharing their secrets and dreams, sealing the bond with a friendship book and a secret handshake.
Their bond lasted through the rest of middle school, but in high school, with each passing year, the group became smaller and smaller. Eventually only one of the Cs remained, eating her lunch, all alone.
Will the girls find a way to reconnect, and if so, what circumstance could bring them all back together again?
Enter the story now: It’s the spring of their junior year in high school, and it’s from Chloe’s perspective…
-1-
Key Players
I stood there in the middle of the parking lot with my hand stuck to the car door and my face smushed against the window, wondering how someone in their right mind could have possibly locked their keys in the car with the engine still running.
Maybe that was my problem. I wasn’t in my right mind; I was in my left, busy analyzing the complexities of my relationship with my boyfriend, who, after the unfortunate incident, did exactly what I expected him to do. He made matters worse, much worse, by rallying the masses around my car like a ringleader at a freak show. “Hey!” he yelled, cupping his hands around his mouth and shouting in every direction. “You gotta’ see this!”
Then he turned toward me, flashing a grin. “You know, for someone so freaking smart, you can be really dumb sometimes.” Sure, he could be a jerk, but not completely erroneous with his taunts. According to the standardized testing instruments used by the Florida public school system, I was relatively smart, which led me to believe that my intelligence came with a serious drawback: a lack of common sense.
Meanwhile, a sizeable crowd had formed in the back corner of the student parking lot, insuring a campus cop would arrive quickly on the scene. Well, ours took a while since he walked with a noticeable limp. He was shot in the line of duty and decided to finish off his law enforcement career at the high school campus, but he underestimated the students at Riverside High. Here, cops dealt with fights, more drugs than on the streets, and periodic pranks, which were mostly ingenuous stunts like pants up the flag pole, desks assembled on the football field, or frilly unmentionables draped on the larger-than-life statue of Richard Waterhouse, the school’s first principal.
As the campus cop neared us, he smiled at me. He probably expected to find two guys pummeling each other’s faces into the hot asphalt, and very slowly, he headed over to my idling car. He peered into the window and pulled on the door handle. “Hmm,” he started. “I’ve seen this happen before.” I hung onto those words, feeling relief in knowing that some other student had done the same stupid thing as me. “Yeah, it was on one of those TV sitcoms. Real funny show. I just can’t remember the name of it.”
I sought television for the answer. “So, how did it end?”
“Hmm, can’t remember that either.” He put a hand on my shoulder. “Listen, young lady, you can either call a locksmith or open it with a spare key. Now, does anyone have a key to your car?”
“No…but…” I turned toward school because someone had a spare key to my house, and as I rushed toward the English wing, I concocted a please-may-I-borrow-your-keys speech. But I didn’t have to give it because when I entered Advanced Placement English, Rob was swirling his car keys on his forefinger. I approached his desk slowly, and he smiled up at me, his dimples sinking deep into his cheeks. “Are you looking for these, Chlo?”
“Yeah.” I bit down on my lip.
“You’ll owe me.”
“I know…anything, Rob.”
“Anything?”
“No,” I chided back.
“Yeah, I didn’t think so.”
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