He puts a warm, brotherly hand on my shoulder on his way out, and I want to die.

“Okay, well,” I mutter, “that was about as humiliating as a day can get.” I turn to walk out, when suddenly I hear my name, and I cringe. I should’ve known Salem would get one last insult in before I go.

I whirl around. “If you tell anyone about this, I will murder you in cold blood.”

“Is that part of being a bad girl?”

“Oh, shut up,” I snap. “Did you just want to tell me that I’m pathetic?”

“No, not that. I mean, yes, also that.” He tries three times to shut his overstuffed drawer, and finally gives up and stands. “But I’ll help you anyway.”

“You.” I lean against the doorframe. “Why on earth would you help me?”

“Because I am dying to see what it looks like when a girl whose head is literally a ball of sunshine goes rogue.”

My hand immediately flies to my puffy bun of curls. “What is it with you Graysons and my hair?”

He drops onto his bed and picks up a lighter from his bedside table, tossing it from hand to hand as he ignores my question. “I will, however, need something in return.”

“Oh?”

“Obviously I don’t need your help to become a total stud, but Matt tells me you signed on to keep his dirty little secrets, and I’m gonna need in on that action.”

“You don’t strike me as the lady-killer type,” I say bluntly. “At least not in the metaphorical sense.”

He snorts and flicks the lighter like it’s a child’s toy. “No? Guess I’ll have to stick to the usual weed and truancy then.”

“I’m not peeing in a cup for you, if that’s where this is going,” I inform him, staunchly keeping my eyes away from the flame, feeling for reasons I can’t begin to understand as if it’s a challenge.

“I wouldn’t dare ask, but only because I’ve heard they can tell it’s a girl.” He tosses the lighter aside, picks up one of those minibasketballs, and starts spinning it with his fingers. “That said, I’m sure there’ll be plenty of other opportunities to cover for me, and Matt’s right—if you need to ask how to get yourself in trouble, you’ve definitely got exactly the never-touched-weed, four-point-oh kind of vibe I need.” He’s right on both counts, but I don’t like how he says it. “My parents are really fucking pissed about me getting tossed out of my last school, and if it happens again, the next one is not gonna be a castle-looking joint with a waffle bar. So you help keep me here, and I’ll help you…” He waves a hand in my general direction, as if my entire situation is just too dire for words.