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I watched as he climbed off my bed and moved to button his jeans.

“Where are you going?” I sat up and searched for my shirt in the sheets. Suddenly, I felt too exposed, too vulnerable.

“Shane wants me to meet up with him in the old Fifth Street parking lot. Some soccer idiots wanna start shit with us because of that freshman who hurt himself. I think it’ll be a good fight.”

“You’re ditching me to go fight with soccer players?” I asked. I yanked my T-shirt over my head and turned to stare at him. “I thought you were trying to prove that I came first.”

“I did,” he said. “I came here first, didn’t I? I could’ve gone straight to the fight, but I came to see my girl.” He walked over to me and leaned down, kissing me on the cheek. “And we had a good time, right?”

“No, you had a good—”

“I’ll call you later,” he said. “I was here longer than I expected to be—not that I’m complaining, but Shane’s waiting on me. I’ll see you tomorrow. I love you.”

He tried to kiss me again, but I jerked away.


Randy sighed and shook his head. “Don’t be like this, Lissa,” he said, and then he turned and walked out of my bedroom.

I started to go after him. I jumped out of bed, momentarily determined to give him a piece of my mind, but stopped in the doorway. I took a deep breath and forced it all back, forced myself to stay in control.

But a minute later—as the front door slammed downstairs and the sound of Randy walking toward his car on the street corner wafted up through my window—I knew this was the last time I would be left behind for this war. I had to do something about it. Put a stop to the stupidity. Get Randy out of this trap he was in. For him. For both of us.

And I knew just how to do it.


chapter five

The next morning, eleven of Hamilton High’s female students received an e-mail instructing them to meet in the library during their lunch period. Nine of the girls were dating football players. One had slept with most of the team. And the eleventh girl, a junior named Ellen Brennan, was the longtime girlfriend of the captain of the soccer team… and she was also my ex–best friend.

The e-mail directed each of the girls to take a seat at the round table in the back corner of the library, where they would be given details on a plan to end the fall sports rivalry that had plagued Hamilton High for far too long.

And you know who sent that e-mail?

Me.

“I don’t see why you had to send me an e-mail,” Chloe said, leaning her seat back and propping her feet up on the table. She had on really cute white sandals, and her toenails were painted bright red. “You could have just called me.”

I put a hand on the back of her chair and pushed it forward. Her feet slid off the table as she let the chair’s front legs hit the floor again. “I thought a group e-mail seemed more official,” I said. “And it’s so much more orderly.”

“You’re so freaking neurotic.” Chloe ran her fingers through her brown corkscrew curls. I knew she hated them; they were apparently a pain in the ass to manage. But they just looked so adorable on her. “And I don’t get why you won’t tell me about this plan of yours.”

“You’ll find out soon,” I told her, tapping my fingers on the table in front of me and checking the clock. “Where is everyone? Lunch started two minutes ago. It can’t just be us.”

“Did you really expect everyone to show?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because everyone else has to hate this just as much as I do,” I said, crossing my arms. “I can’t be the only one sick of this stupid fight.”

“I’m sure you’re not,” Chloe said. “But you’re the only one crazy and controlling enough to think you can do shit about it.”

Just then, the library doors opened and a group of three girls walked in, all carrying sack lunches. It took them only a second to locate the table I’d specified in the e-mail, and they took their seats across from Chloe and me.

“Hey, Lissa,” they each said in turn.

I nodded in welcome.

They ignored Chloe completely.

She ignored them right back.

“So what’s this about again?” Kelsey Foagler asked, twirling a strand of her blond hair around a long manicured finger.


“I have a plan to end the rivalry,” I told her.

“Oh, right. That’s adorable.” It was her MO to sound incredibly insincere.

“Um, thanks?”

The doors opened again and a few more girls trickled in with their lunches, taking the remaining places around the table. I smiled at Chloe, realizing that my plan might actually work. Only four more girls had to show up before I’d have everyone from the e-mail list. She just rolled her eyes at me.

One by one, the last batch of girls came through the library doors.

Ellen was the last to walk in, and I admit, I was shocked she’d decided to come. I’d added her to the e-mail list more on a hopeful whim than with actual faith that she’d show. We hadn’t spoken in a year, yet here she was, taking the seat beside me and giving me a smile like nothing had changed. But Ellen had always been a better, more forgiving person than I was.

“Hey,” I said nervously. “Um, it’s nice to see you.”

“You, too.”

Across the table, Kelsey was giving her a less-than-welcoming stare, reserved especially for girlfriends of soccer players. I couldn’t help cringing. Tensions from the feud had seeped into the lives of the girls, too. That had been what pulled Ellen and me apart last year.

The table was full of chatter. I cleared my throat a couple of times, trying to get their attention, but no one seemed to hear me.

“Hey, bitches, shut up and let Lissa talk!” Chloe shouted, and everyone fell silent. Man, sometimes I wished I had her

nerve. At least, I did until I noticed Mrs. Hillman, the librarian, shooting us a disapproving glare. Oops.

I cleared my throat again. “Hi, everyone,” I began. “So I just wanted to talk to you all about the boys’ sports feud. I think it’s gotten way out of hand. People are getting hurt, and it’s been causing problems in my relationship. I’m sure you are all in similar situations.”

“Yep,” Susan Port huffed. “After Luther’s tires were slashed last week, he completely skipped our date on my birthday so he could go have his ‘baby’ fixed.”

“At least your boyfriend didn’t have a busted lip and black eye in your homecoming photos last year,” Kelsey grumbled.

A general murmur of agreement bubbled around the table.

“Exactly,” I said. “We’re all neglected during the autumn because of the rivalry. So, naturally, we should try to put a stop to it, right? Isn’t that what all of you want?”

Another murmur of agreement.

“That would be nice,” Kelsey said, “in theory. But in reality, what can we really do to end it? Nothing. Those oafs won’t stop clubbing one another on the heads until they graduate or go so brain-dead they forget who to hit.”

“Shut up, Kelsey, and just give Lissa a chance,” Chloe snapped.

Kelsey mocked surprise. “Oh my God, Chloe can speak? I thought her mouth only worked for sucking dicks. It’s a miracle.”

“I’ll show you a miracle, you little—”

I grabbed Chloe by her T-shirt and yanked her back down into her seat. “Both of you, please be civil,” I advised.


Kelsey sat back down, growling to herself.

“Anyway,” I said, “I have to disagree with Kelsey. I think I’ve finally figured out what we can do to end this once and for all.”

“Nuke the locker room?”

“Seriously?”

“Can we just get the soccer program canceled?”

“How would we do that?”

“Give her a chance to explain,” Chloe said loudly just as a wave of anxiety washed over me. Too many voices talking over one another. She winked and nodded for me to continue. She knew me too well.

“So you all want to stop the fighting,” I said. “That’s good. I’m glad we’re on the same page. The fact is that we’ve all tried everything we could think of on our own. We’ve begged, pleaded, and fought, and it hasn’t done a thing. We can’t control them. So the important thing here is to get control of the situation—we need power. And clearly, we haven’t been able to get that on our own. That’s why I called this meeting. Because together, I believe we can get power over at least one of the sides. And with that power, we can manipulate this war however we want.”

“How many times did you rehearse this speech?” Kelsey asked.

I ignored her, picking up my pen and twisting the cap back and forth under the table. No way was I telling her that I’d practiced this in front of the mirror… twice.

“Okay, so the thing is to get control of our boys, and to do it all together, as a unified force,” I continued. “Because when it was just football versus soccer, it was a stalemate and a

never-ending cycle. But add in an extra party—the girls—and it’s possible to totally upend the balance. Finding our leverage is the hard part, and like you, I didn’t think it was possible. I thought we were all just screwed. But last night, I figured it out. I know exactly how we can get control of the boys and end this war for good.”

“Out with it already,” Chloe urged.

I grinned. “It’s the one thing they could never say no to. The one thing they beg and plead and cajole for. Up until now, I didn’t realize we could use it to our advantage. But last night, I realized that it’s our best shot.” I paused, took a breath. “We go on… a sex strike!”

And… silence.

Dead silence.

For at least forty-three seconds.

As I might have predicted, Chloe was the first one to share her opinion, and in typical Chloe fashion, she shared loudly.

“Are you out of your fucking mind?”

The table rumbled with uneasy disapproval, triggered by Chloe’s protest. I took a deep breath, twisting the pen cap faster and faster. I had to pull them in. I had to get them back in my court—to show them that this was the best option.

“Think about it,” I pressed, my voice raised. “Boys only want one thing. They’re all horndogs. If there’s anything we can use to get power, it’s sex. Specifically, denying it.”

“You might be right,” Chloe said. “But you’re forgetting one key factor here. Won’t we be
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