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too.
    It wasn’t like Amy and I had been friends from the moment I stepped into town. I knew who she was—everyone knew who she was—but we’d never spoken. Not until we colided outside of Starbucks and both ended up wearing her mocha latte.
    Considering her shirt cost about three times the value of everything in my closet—including sneakers—she’d been remarkably cool about it. I bought her a replacement drink, and despite the fact that wearing frothy beverages wasn’t exactly fashionable, we ended up walking down to Riverside Square, sitting on the ledge of the fountain, and talking for hours. Amy had griled me about every city I’d ever lived in and told me how she couldn’t wait to get out of Hemlock.
    The next morning, she was waiting for me by my locker. For reasons I never quite understood—especialy given al the reasons I never quite understood—especialy given al the advantages she had—Amy seemed to have just as much trouble making friends as I did.
    The next time I saw Jason, the daydreams were history. They had to be. Amy was the first friend I’d had in years, and that was important to me.
    Looking back, it had probably been strange. Amy was the rich granddaughter of a US senator, and I was a foundling who lived with a cousin who waited tables.
    I knew people couldn’t figure out how poor, parentless Mackenzie Dobson had ended up as part of a group that included kids from the two most powerful families in town, but Amy, Jason, Kyle, and I just seemed to click. It was like we had known one another our whole lives.
    I turned my back on Jason long enough to grab a faded patchwork quilt from the hal closet. He didn’t stir as I tucked it around him.
    “You’re such a disaster,” I whispered, gently touching the bruise on his cheek. “I wish I knew how to help you.”
    Half the girls in school wanted Jason, but they didn’t know him.
    Not realy. He was spoiled and could be arrogant. He was often careless and had become disaster personified. Hel, he practicaly needed his own federal response team.
    But he could be realy thoughtful and kind. And he hadn’t always been a mess. He’d started getting into trouble last year, and then Amy’s death had just made him spiral further out of control.
    The girls in town thought Jason was tortured and broken, and that made him sexier in their eyes. I didn’t care about that. Al I that made him sexier in their eyes. I didn’t care about that. Al I wanted was to figure out how to fix him.
    Before he completely self-destructed.
    UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE
    HarperCollins Publishers
    .....................................................................

Chapter 3
    “YOU KNOW, HE’S ACTUALLY A PRETTY GOOD KISSER.” Amy perched on the edge of my bed, her pale, heart-shaped face turned away so that I could see only her profile, half-hidden behind a curtain of black hair. “I don’t blame you for thinking about it.”
    I struggled against the bedclothes, trying to sit up. “I wasn’t.
    Thinking about it.” Amy didn’t say anything, and the silence was heavy and oppressive. “Okay,” I admitted. “I thought about it for a second, but it was an accident. It didn’t mean anything.”
    She grunted and stared at her lap. “I thought it would take you longer.”
    My heart thudded in my chest. “Amy, I swear. Nothing happened.”

    happened.”
    “Maybe not yet. But it wil. You’l forget about me.” She paused and then added, “You both wil.”
    I reached for her hand. It was cold, like ice. “Never,” I promised.
    “Liar.” Her voice was suddenly sharp and frigid, like a burst of arctic air. She squeezed my hand so hard that I heard something crack.
    “Amy,” I whimpered.
    “You did this,” she said and turned toward me. The other half of her face was a ruined mask, like red candle wax that had melted.
    The left side of her body was covered in gashes and blood. “You did this,” she repeated, squeezing my hand until my bones