Stealing for Keeps (Frost Lake High Book 1)

The first day of school arrives before I’m ready. When I get downstairs, Mom is dressed for work, drinking coffee as she stands in the kitchen. Ruby is eating breakfast at the island.

“Excited for fifth grade?” I ask my little sister.

She shrugs one shoulder but then grins. “Layla and I got the same teacher again this year.”

I smile. I miss the days when having my best friend in my homeroom was all it took to make me excited for a new year.

Everything about this year feels different. No boyfriend to hold hands with between passing periods, no rushing to skate practice right after school and then cramming homework and studying in before bed. At least I still have Lacey. Maybe a great best friend is all I need.

“I bookmarked some colleges for you to consider.” Mom tips her head toward her laptop on the counter. “And we need to talk about your schedule this year. You’re going to need much better grades if you’re going to get into a top college. Is it too late to add a couple of AP classes?”

It’s her new dream for me: attend a good college, get a fabulous job, and forget that I spent the past ten years putting all my effort into figure skating.

“I have to go. Lacey is waiting,” I say, ignoring all her questions, and swipe a granola bar from the pantry.

Lacey grins from behind the wheel of her new Bronco Sport. It was a guilt gift from her dad after he forgot her seventeenth birthday. It’s decorated in blue-and-white window paint with things like Juniors, FLHS, and, of course, Cheer Captain.

My stomach is in knots as she pulls into a parking spot, and it only intensifies as we walk into the chaos. This year feels exciting and terrifying. I knew who I was as a sophomore, or at least I thought I did, and now all that has changed.

The halls are already packed with students. People stand in front of their lockers, talking and catching up after the summer break. Glittery signs hang on every wall, catching the light and temporarily making me smile. The smell of new perfume and unrealistic expectations hangs in the air.

At our lockers, I stand with my back against the cool metal, watching the excited faces of my peers and trying to summon some of it for myself.

“I can’t believe we don’t have a single class together this semester.” Lacey frowns at my schedule.

I swipe my phone back. “That’s what happens when you’re an academic overachiever.”

She grins. Lacey is supersmart and in all AP classes. My mother would be so proud of her schedule.

“Well, here’s hoping I don’t regret that by the end of the week. I heard the new AP Calculus teacher is really hard.”

“How could anyone possibly know that yet?”

She shrugs. “I guess someone heard from a student at his last school.”

“You’ll be fine,” I reassure her.

The first bell rings.

“I better go.” Lacey clutches her laptop and notebook to her chest with a nervous, excited grin. She is perhaps the most hopeful of anyone today, and I don’t want to take that from her, so I smile back.

“See you at lunch,” I promise.

The morning goes by in a blur of welcome speeches from teachers and seating arrangements. My class schedule isn’t that strenuous since, until a couple of months ago, school was not the biggest priority in my life. I don’t see the point in changing that now. I’m not a brainiac like Lacey, and I’m not even sure I want to go to college yet. It was never my plan, but now I don’t know what I’ll do after high school ends.

I manage to dodge Vaughn until lunch. He’s texted a few times since Doyle’s party, but I’m not interested in whatever he has to say. It’s too late for apologies, and there’s no way I’m getting back together with him. I’m sure with the start of the school year, he’ll move on quickly. He’s not exactly hard up for attention.

He’s sitting at the same table as last year. Several of his teammates are with him, and the tables nearby are occupied by girls all trying to catch the eyes of the team. Vaughn looks directly at me the moment Lacey and I enter the cafeteria. There are two seats next to him, the only open spots at the crowded table, like he was saving them for us.

“New year, new table?” Lacey suggests.

I breathe a sigh of relief. “Definitely.”

Breaking his gaze, I follow Lacey through the lunchroom to the other side.

The cafeteria is broken down in your typical high school cliques, which each have their own table. Frost Lake High has all the usual groups: the jocks; the trendy girls who spend their allowances on designer labels and come to school every day looking like they’re ready for a glamour photo shoot; the supersmart kids; the kids who despise high school and ditch more often than they show up (I have no idea what they do instead); and our little group.

Me, Lacey, Andie, and Brandon have been friends since middle school. Andie and Lacey are both on the cheerleading squad, and Andie also does theater. She routinely has the lead in the school plays. Brandon is on the hockey team, but he didn’t start playing until high school, so he isn’t as tight with those guys. Plus, he’s always had a huge crush on Andie. There were more of us who hung out before high school, but several have found new clubs and friend groups.

The four of us each fit into other cliques, but we’ve stuck together. Not always. Last year, I sat with the soccer team more than them. Lacey disappeared for a month when she dated a guy on the basketball team, and Brandon was gone for a few weeks when he was trying to fit in with his new varsity hockey buddies. But we seem to always make our way back to each other.

They’re the friend equivalent of a pair of really comfortable sweatpants. We’ve all known one another a long time, and it’s just easy being together.

Or it was easy being together before Andie and Brandon became a couple nine months ago. Sometimes, I forget, they’re a couple and then they do something sweet like share food or kiss. I still remember in seventh grade when Brandon told Andie she was flat-chested, and she cried for two days straight. He hadn’t meant to hurt her feelings—he thought he was just stating facts and probably wanted to acknowledge that he’d noticed her, not that she didn’t yet need a bra. Anyway, he seems to be just fine with her cup size now.

“Hey.” Lacey sets her tray down in front of them.

They pull their heads apart and look forward.

“Hi,” Andie chirps happily. “Love the new bling.” She motions toward the new C patch on Lacey’s cheerleading top, denoting her as captain. All the cheerleaders wore their uniforms for the first day.

Lacey pushes her dark hair back and smiles down at it proudly. “It looks great, right?”

“You were made for the job,” Andie assures her, then rests her elbows on the table. “I’m thinking of getting a nose ring. Thoughts?”

“Since when?” I ask.

“Since today when I realized I look exactly the same as I did last year.” She lifts a hand to the left side of her nose. “A tiny little gold hoop.”

“You were hot then, and you’re hot now,” Brandon states casually. He let his hair grow out over the summer, and it hangs down to his chin. Plus, he got glasses. He looks like a cross between Jungkook and Clark Kent.

Andie blushes at the compliment, and I’m certain they’re going to start making out right in front of us, but instead her stare slides over to me. “How are you, Claire?”

It’s clear from the vague question and sympathy in her tone that what she’s really asking is how I’m doing with my foot still in a boot and my skating dreams blown to smithereens. But even I realize it’s too early in the year and the day for that kind of pessimism.

“I’m great.” I open my chocolate milk carton and avoid looking directly at her or Brandon. My foot is hurting today. It doesn’t bother me much anymore, but I’ve done a lot more walking this morning without elevating it. However, the last thing I want to do is talk about my foot.

Luckily, nobody presses, and my three friends fall into easy conversation about the new school year and all the classes they’re taking. Talking about school then turns to talking about the parties to celebrate the start of the new year. Every year, someone throws a big party during the first week. It almost always gets busted by parents, but this year it’s at Bobby Boone’s house, and his parents are these big-time lawyers who are always traveling. People are excited.

“We’re going,” Andie says, motioning her head to Brandon.

“Really?” I ask. It’s not really either of their scenes. They usually go to the parties after dances or homecoming, but neither of them has ever attended a back-to-school party. Lacey drags me every year. It’s not that it isn’t my scene, but I rarely had time for them. I skated every night until seven or eight, and I was so exhausted after. Also, my mom was really strict about staying out late any time I had morning practices. I can hear her canned reply: “An athlete needs a good night’s sleep.”

“We’re juniors now!” Andie’s face lights up with excitement and pulls me from my thoughts.

“Yeah, I suppose so.” I attempt a smile back at her. My face muscles are starting to hurt from all my forced smiles today.

“You’re going too?” Lacey asks, surprised. I guess she wasn’t planning on dragging me this year.

“Maybe.” I shrug. “Aren’t you?”

She shakes her head. “I can’t. Dad just finished a big work project, and he wants to take me to dinner, and then we’re going to watch a movie. I’m making him watch Bring It On.” She grins, and I have a hard time imagining her buttoned-up dad watching a cheer comedy.

“Sounds S-U-P-E-R!” I mock, bumping my shoulder against hers.

“R-U-D-E.” She bumps me back harder.

I take a bite of my ham and cheese sandwich. Andie and Brandon go back to talking between themselves, and the table falls into a comfortable silence. I’m happy to just be for a bit. No talking. No expectations. No having my life figured out.

Until Lacey breaks that silence. She can’t help it. She’s an only child, and her mom died when she was a baby. But that must be where she got all her extrovert genes, because her dad is this super introverted researcher who gets lost in his work for days at a time. “I was thinking now that you don’t have figure skating every day after school, we can hang out in the afternoons when I’m done with cheer practice.”

My reply gets stuck in my throat.

Her eyes widen, and then her black lashes drop, making her look like a hurt puppy. “I’m so sorry. God, Claire. I’m an idiot. That was a crummy thing to say. I just meant—”

“No, you’re right. I’m wide open, and I’d love to hang out in the afternoons. It’ll keep me from dying of boredom.” I haven’t figured out what to do with all the extra time I have without skating. The moping and feeling sorry for myself that I did all summer filled that void, but now…now it’s time to do something. I’m just not sure what.

She squeezes my arm and drops her voice low. “I’m sorry. Truly. I should have thought before I spoke. I think I used my brain too much already today.”

“It’s okay,” I tell her. “Really.”

Her gaze lifts, and a slow smile spreads across her face. “If it’s any consolation, the new guy looks like he wants to take full advantage of your empty schedule.”

I glance up to see Austin walking toward us behind Rowan. The latter tips his head toward us.

“Hey, Rowan.” Lacey laces her fingers together and rests them on the table. “Hey, New Guy.”

Rowan stops, holding his tray in one hand. “Have you met Disco?”

“Briefly.” I feel his gaze turn to me, but something else has stolen my attention.

Vaughn. He’s several feet behind his teammates like he was on his way over. His stare volleys between me and Austin, jaw clenched. My stomach drops. I can feel the hurt and anger radiating off him even from ten feet away. I know that I shouldn’t feel bad for him, but I can’t help it. For all the ways he let me down, I still never want to be the reason he’s hurting.

The whole interaction lasts only seconds, but it feels like an eternity before he gives me his back and stalks in the direction he came.

“Right, Claire?” Lacey elbows me.

“Sorry, what?” I refocus on the two guys who are both looking at me expectantly.

“They should sit with us.” Lacey waves her hand to the empty spot next to me.

Andie is already moving over to make more room.

I can’t think of a single good reason to say no, so I nod.

“How’s the first day?” Rowan asks to the table.

Lacey jumps in for all of us. “Amazing. I just love the first week of a new semester. Everyone looks great, and the drama is relatively low.”

“That’s because no one is weighed down yet with homework and the constant social pressures that turn us into anxious, hormonal assholes,” Brandon points out.

“True.” Andie nods her head in agreement.

“What about you, New Guy?” Lacey asks Austin.

“What about me?” he asks in a slow drawl that oozes confidence. He’s wearing a white T-shirt and jeans. The white is a stark contrast to his dark hair. It’s a touch shorter on the sides than when I saw him last.

My cheeks grow warm at the memory. I have worked really hard to forget about that kiss. Cocky soccer players are not on my new year to-do list.

“Where are you from?” Lacey asks. I’m thankful that she’s mid-interrogation, and no one is paying attention to the shade of pink I’m sure my face is turning.

“Arizona,” he says.

“What position do you play?”

His brows lift as if he’s surprised by the question. He’ll learn quickly that he should never be surprised by what comes out of Lacey’s mouth.

“I’m a forward.”

“Oh, like Vaughn.” I recognize the glint in her eye. She’s dying to know every last detail about him, and she won’t stop until she does.

“You play?” he asks her.

“No.”

“You did once when we were kids,” Rowan says.

“One season when I was six hardly counts.”

“Play is the wrong word. You mostly just stood in the middle of the field and cheered on your teammates,” I say. I wasn’t there, but she has told the story enough times that I feel like I was.

One side of Rowan’s mouth pulls up into a grin. He was there. “She really did.”

“It should have been obvious to my dad right then and there that I was destined for cheerleading.” Her face lights up as we share a smile, and then she turns back to Austin. “What do you think of Frost Lake so far? Aren’t the signs and decorations great?”

“The decorations?” He looks from her to me and then around the cafeteria.

I cover my mouth with a hand to stop a laugh. He couldn’t possibly know that she’s responsible for, like, ninety-nine percent of it, and he’s acting like he hadn’t even noticed them.

“The cheerleaders are the ones who made the signs on our lockers,” Rowan explains.

“Oh, right.” His attention moves to me. “I should have known. They’re very sparkly.”

“Thank you.” Her smile grows impossibly bigger.

I’m not sure he meant it as a compliment, but he doesn’t know about Lacey’s obsession with glitter.

“So, do you have a girlfriend back in Arizona?” She continues her interrogation, and Rowan and I share an amused look.

“Nope.”

“Interesting,” Lacey says and shoots another sly glance at me. I’m going to kill her.

A group of sophomore girls on the soccer team call out to Rowan from across the room, then stand to make their way over. Rowan is probably the most liked guy at Frost Lake. He’s friends with everyone, and no one has a bad thing to say about him. He’d be the most popular guy at Frost Lake if he put any effort into it at all. But even as it is, he’s always nominated for stuff.

Amanda and Sophie stop next to our table. They give all of us cordial smiles before pinning their gazes on the new guy.

“You must be Austin Keller,” Sophie says. “I’m Sophie. This is Amanda. We’re on the girls’ soccer team.”

“His reputation precedes him,” Rowan jokes. “He goes by Disco.”

Austin hums low in his throat as he shoots Rowan a playful glare and then tips his head slightly at the girls. “Nice to meet you both.”

Sophie sits in the tiny space between him and Andie. My friend shoots me an amused look as she scooches closer to Brandon.

“Are you going to Boone’s party tonight?” Sophie asks him. She’s facing the other way, but I can just make out the question above the noise in the cafeteria.

“I’m not sure,” he says.

“You should totally come. Everyone will be there. A bunch of the girls from the team are going, and, Rowan, you’ll be there, right?”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” he says.

I truly don’t know how he goes out so much and still maintains his grades and soccer.

“And I’ll be there,” Sophie says. “Give me your hand.”

Austin does, looking slightly confused.

She pulls out a pen and proceeds to write her number on his hand in blue ink. When she’s done, she stands. “Now you can text me, and we can meet up.”

He nods a few times, saying nothing. I can’t read him. Sophie is pretty. She dated Blake from the team last year. I wonder if she’s Austin’s type and then scold myself for the thought. I do not care. I just think it’s ridiculous how girls are already falling all over themselves to talk to him. He’s cute, but what do they even know about him?

Sophie beams. “Okay, we gotta go. See you later!”

As soon as they’re gone, Lacey erupts into laughter. “Wow, New Guy. That was impressive. You said less than ten words and somehow managed to get a date. Bravo.”

“If only it were always that easy.” His stare lands on me, and I find myself unable to look away. The bell rings and jolts me back to the present.

I stand abruptly.

“Where is the fire, Crawford?” Lacey asks with a grin.

“I gotta go.” My gaze briefly flicks to Austin, who is watching me with those light green eyes. I hate that he makes me feel so off-balance. Looking back at Lacey, I say, “My next class is in the east building.”

“I won’t see you the rest of the day.” My best friend sticks her bottom lip out in a pout. “Hang tomorrow afternoon?”

“Definitely,” I say. I smile at the rest of the table, carefully avoiding meeting Austin’s gaze, and then book it out of there as fast as my boot will allow.

* * *

By the time I hoof it all the way to the east building, my foot is throbbing. The doctor warned me to ease back into things, but I didn’t think that walking would be so tiring.

Mrs. Randolph is standing outside the classroom, greeting students as they walk into her room. A smile curves my lips when she calls out to me.

“Claire Crawford.” Her gaze briefly drops to my foot, but she doesn’t let it linger there. “I was so glad to see you signed up for my class again this year.”

“Thanks,” I say, feeling a little embarrassed at the attention. It never made me uncomfortable when I was being praised for skating. I think it’s because I worked so hard at it. Hours and hours of practice nearly every day. While art is just something I’ve always liked to do. It’s fun, but it feels weird to be complimented when I’ve spent so little effort trying to be good at it.

None of my friends take art. I recognize a few faces from art class last year, but I don’t know any of them well enough to do more than wave and say hello.

I take a seat at an empty table by the back closest that houses the supplies. The moment I take the weight off my foot, I breathe a sigh of relief.

Mrs. Randolph comes into the class seconds before the tardy bell rings.

“Good afternoon, everyone.” She takes her place in front of the giant chalkboard. Most of the classrooms have whiteboards now, but the east building is part of the original school, and someone decided to preserve as much as possible. Including windows that are drafty in the winter and offer no resistance to the heat in the summer. They finally added some air-conditioning last year, but Mrs. Randolph has it turned off and the windows are open.

“For those of you who are new,” she starts, but a figure fills the doorway.

Austin Keller.

He steps inside and offers our teacher a polite smile. “Sorry for interrupting. Is this Visual Arts?”

“It is. Take a seat anywhere you like.”

There must be a giant neon sign flashing over my head, because Austin looks past all the tables in front and directly at me. I swear a hint of a smirk ghosts his lips as he heads my way.

While Mrs. Randolph continues introducing herself to the class, Austin drops into the empty chair beside me.

“Are you following me?” I whisper the question. I know it’s dumb. He couldn’t possibly have known I was taking Visual Arts, but I cannot sit next to this guy all semester. He’s so cocky and frustrating. I do not have any room in my very free schedule for soccer players. Except Rowan, but we’re just friends.

“No. Well, I would have liked to, seeing as how I also needed to find the east building, but you booked it out of the cafeteria so fast I didn’t stand a chance.”

A smidge of guilt works its way in, but it isn’t like I knew he was taking art.

Another student enters the classroom. This one is holding a piece of paper, which she hands to Mrs. Randolph, who reads it and then sighs. “It’s the first day and already somehow filled with interruptions. Give me two minutes, class.”

She steps out into the hallway, and quiet chatter starts around the room.

I squirm in my seat and try to ignore the pain in my foot.

Austin stands, and I watch in confusion as he goes to another table and takes one of the empty chairs. Is he moving seats? I kind of hope so, but then I’ll also feel like an asshole. Instead of sitting, he moves the chair over in front of our table.

I stare at him blankly.

“For your foot,” he says finally. I don’t make any move to prop up my leg, and he adds, “I can tell it’s bothering you. I had a broken foot once, and by the end of the day, it hurt like a bitch if I didn’t elevate.”

“Thank you,” I say, heat flaring in my chest. “How is your first day?”

“Good. Better now that I know I’m going to see you every day.” He flashes a charming smile that I’ll bet works every time. Except this one.

A laugh tumbles out of me. “Have you been using that same line all day?”

“Nope.” His grin inches higher. “Just came to me.” He comes back around and takes his seat next to me again. “So are you going to Boone’s party tonight?” he asks.

“I’m not sure,” I say.

“Why not? Something else to do? Not your scene? Hate fun?” He grins. “I can’t make you out yet.”

“Why do you care? You already have a date.” I stare at Sophie’s number scribbled on his hand.

He glances at it and looks back at me. “Jealous?”

“Hardly.” I scoff. “By all means, date the entire school. I couldn’t care less.”

His hard stare makes me want to squirm in my seat for an entirely different reason. This guy is just…too much. I know his type, and I’m not going there again.

Austin leans closer, bringing a sweet, smoky scent with him. I hold my breath.

“Yeah, well, at least kissing her won’t get me blackballed by my entire team,” he says with a smirk that seems to contradict the seriousness of his words and then moves away, finally tearing his gaze from me.