Bad Reputation. Melinda Lorenzo Di

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      Saturday

      Tucker

      When my alarm had gone off on Saturday morning, I’d groaned and dragged myself out of bed.

      I slept poorly, plagued by a recurring dream. In it, the too-good-looking-for-his-own-good stranger from the school paper tapped me on the shoulder, only every time I turned around, I found Mark standing there instead.

      “Not a dream,” I muttered as I made my way through the already busy student market. “A nightmare.”

      The most coveted spots were the ones on the outside because they were the biggest and got the most traffic. The ones in the middle of the market were practically stacked on top of each other, and only the customers who wanted to make an actual effort would reach the area. As I shouldered my way through the other vendors, I knew that’s where I would be stuck.

      I finally reached an empty table, plunked down my supplies, and stifled a cringe when I immediately recognized the girl setting up at the table beside me.

      I plastered a smile on my face.

      “Oh my God! Chipper!” squealed Amber. “How long has it been?”

      Not long enough, if you’re still calling me by that god-awful nickname, I thought immediately, but kept my smile in place.

      “Since high school,” I answered.

      I automatically inventoried my former classmate’s appearance.

      She hadn’t changed much. Her brown hair now boasted a few blonde highlights, and her makeup was a little more sophisticated, but aside from that, she looked like the same right-side-of-town snob.

      It took serious effort to keep from curling my lips in disgust.

      In the back of my mind, I knew I should’ve left all of those feelings behind the second I crossed the stage for graduation. But looking at her perky face brought back a lot of bad memories. She was one of a big group of kids who refused to accept me because of where I came from, who were never able to see past my postal code and accept that I had the brains to attend the upper class high school.

      “Chipper?”

      And of course, the nickname topped my list of reasons to never forgive or forget.

      “Yes?”

      “I never understood where that came from,” she replied. “No offence, but you never seemed all that chipper to me.”

      I assessed her expression carefully. Had she really forgotten the clothes that never measured up? The years of torment? I couldn’t easily dismiss my own feelings about it, but I had been on the receiving end. Maybe it never really mattered to Amber at all. Maybe it didn’t occur to her the experience had been traumatizing for me, or she didn’t have a clue that even years later, I had to remind myself that I wasn’t that awkward girl with the dangerous father.

      Just something else to occupy her time.

      Her eyes were wide, and she was smiling innocently at me.

      “Buck teeth,” I muttered.

      “Pardon me?”

      I opened my mouth to repeat myself, then closed it again when a thick arm snaked around her waist.

      “Joey!” she complained, but didn’t pull away.

      Feeling awkward, I drew my gaze away from the sight of the manly fingers splayed possessively across Amber’s stomach. My eyes went to her boyfriend’s face. He was grinning at me, and he looked awfully familiar.

      You have got to be kidding me, I thought.

      “Joey, Chipper. Chipper, Joey,” introduced Amber.

      I didn’t bother to correct her on the name.

      Better that he not know so he can’t splash me all over the school newspaper. I won’t be known again for what my dad did.

      Joey shot me a sly wink. “Chipper. Haven’t we met somewhere before?”

      “Joey, stop flirting with her. I’ll get jealous,” Amber said lightly.

      “I don’t need to flirt,” he replied. “I have money and I’m good looking.”

      I rolled my eyes. “Because that’s all it takes.”