So much family lost and yet we all somehow found each other. She’s saving Collin’s seat for me. He’s driving Henry here from the airport, and the last text I saw said they were five minutes out. That was fifteen minutes ago.

  The lights lower, and I hear the echo of Caleb’s finger-whistle reverberate around the gallery. Dean Orson taps at my shoulder, and I turn to meet his stern glare. He’s not an easy man to impress, and the first impression I made on him was when I got caught sneaking back in after curfew with Caleb. He made a joke at rehearsals about adding that to my brief bio he is about to read. I hope he was actually kidding.

  “Sorry, sir.” I step to the side and let him take the stage, polite applause welcoming him to the mic.

  The piano behind him is the nicest I will have ever touched. Elena’s pales in comparison. I could probably go out there and play Chop-Sticks and it would sound like Chopin.

  I hear my name and startle to attention, listening to Dean Orson read the notes about me just as he did in rehearsal. He doesn’t add in the bit about my indiscretion, and for once I’m relieved that he isn’t clever or funny. If Nicki were the dean of this school, she would give a five-minute set about all of my most embarrassing moments before bringing me out.

  The lights dim as he leaves the mic and moves back toward me. His hand juts out, a fat palm from the sleeve of his tux, and I take it and give it a firm shake.

  “Have a wonderful show,” he says with a stern nod.

  I give one back, and then let out my breath when he leaves and my back is to him.

  “Wonderful show,” I whisper in repeat, amused.

  I step into the dim light, and it brightens as I get closer to the piano. My heart is pounding, and the fear that my fingers won’t work tickles the back of my mind. I get jittery when I’m nervous, and as of right this moment, my hands feel nearly numb. I stop at the piano bench, and I bend in a practiced curtsy, which causes Nicki to laugh. I smile while my head is down because I can hear her.

  Still suffering from a massive case of tingles, I uncross my legs and breathe out as I stand again, lifting my chin and internally repeating the word please. His gaze was waiting for me, and his white shirt and gray vest is exactly as I pictured in my dreams when he described it to me.

  Henry said he would come dressed to take me out as soon as my show was done. The best restaurant, and then a trip to the opera down the street. His hands clap long after everyone else is done, and he’s the last to take his seat. Always the standout, even when it isn’t about him.

  My eyes scan the crowd as I begin to turn, and I catch Collin as he slides down the row to sit by Ms. Manning. For a little while, I fancied the idea that maybe they would get together, but I guess the age gap is a bigger deal to them than it is to me. Regardless, I’m glad they’ve become friends.

  Rebecca Manning moved to a small town in Wisconsin, and she got a job as an advisor at the community’s school right away. She was deeply overqualified, but her desperate need for a place with an attached daycare and a quiet, simple life evened the scales. Getting away to come to the city for my performance wasn’t easy, I know. It makes it all the more special that she’s here.

  I take my place behind the keys and spread out my sheets of music, though I know I won’t need them. This is all by heart. My hands know their way. I sit back and squeeze my hands into fists one last time, the last nerves being vacated. I turn to find Henry’s waiting eyes, and his smug smile, cocky on my behalf this time. His lip quirks as he nods, and so I spread my fingers and let them find their home.

  The sound is harsh and instant, and it fills every crevice of this room. My eyes close through the beginning, erasing the enormity of the moment and replacing it with nothing but confidence and loud, thunderous chords set off by the quiet, staccato of my perfect runs. I slay, and when I pound out those final few bars of Chopin’s greatest scherzo, the room erupts. It’s more than five friends and two pseudo-family members. It’s praise, and I earned every beat of it.

  I soak it in.

  I rush backstage in a wired state. I could easily march out there and do that, what I just did, again. This performance is simulcast. Nobody really watches it but family members and the people who decide who gets into what schools. I’m applying to lots of them, and after that, there better be a fight.

  I woke up a little different today.

  “You’re an animal,” Henry says, sweeping me into his arms the moment I leave the space of the stage. He pulls me into a dark corner and kisses me so hard that my body automatically dips back and falls into his hold. He smells like a man of the world, yet home. He tastes familiar, and new.

  His lips pull away just enough to let me see his dimples, the perfect smile and wrinkled eyes that shine with pride.

  “I missed you,” I say.

  I wasn’t sure how it would be when he got back. I won’t lie, there was a lot of relief when Stella didn’t stay for the entire program. Even more relief when I heard rumors that her family was moving out of the house next to Elena’s. But even without her, we’ve had a year to change and grow. He’s had a year to somehow get taller, his shoulders broader. We’re seventeen, staring down eighteen, that year when for some reason society thinks we can handle being adults.

  Henry has started applying to schools too, for engineering. Many of our choices are far apart—not as far apart as Chicago and Frankfurt, Germany, but still. There will be lots of decisions, all which we will make, both together and on our own.

  Through it all, through every letter and text and late-night video chat while he was away, I knew I still wanted Henry Alderman. I wanted him to come home to Satis. I want to spend this year watching him row, waving my hat at him when he wins, kissing him in front of jealous freshmen and privileged society girls. I want to spend afternoons on the rooftop with him, and I want to give him all of my firsts. I’m ready now, but I’m also in no rush.

  Our senior year is exactly two-hundred-fifty days long, and I intend to drain each and every one of them, starting…right…now.

  THE END

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  I have this quote on a magnet that I’ve carried around from job to job since I graduated from college and got my first newspaper gig. It’s one of those quotes that is debated because it’s attributed to Eleanor Roosevelt with no real evidence that she said it exactly that way, or ever at all. Regardless, I like it. I always have.

  “Do something every day that scares you.”

  Okay.

  Check.

  This book scared me.

  Us bookish types have flexible lists of our favorites. You know…someone asks you to list your top ten and you give them forty-seven books. I have three solid books that are always on my list: The Outsiders, Forever by Judy Blume, and Great Expectations.

  And so here we are—my muse played out by my own interpretation. There are many long nights that turned into mornings that I consumed myself with this story and exactly how I would write it. It changed over the years, but at its very core, it was always the same. Reversed roles. Modern setting. A vintage flavor. It would always end here.

  It scared me to tackle, and that is why I must.

  Dickens wove a tale that was heartbreaking and bleak yet still steeped in hope. Goddamn did the young, budding writer I was when I first read this as a teenager admire it. I locked away quotes; I memorized whole chapters. I hated characters and loved others, sometimes loving the ones I hated the most.

  I wanted to pay homage, and I wanted to take on the challenge. My hope is that this book delivered for those of you who nerd-it-up over Dickens like me. I hope it is youthful yet mature and full of the right amount of pain, growth, love and friendship to be worthy of your time.

  I must thank several people for pushing me over the hump with this one—thank you to TeriLyn, Jen, Bianca and Shelley for taking the early dive and going all in! Thank you, BilliJoy of Editing Addict, and Tina Scott, for your editing and proofing eyeballs. Thank you, husband, for your patience and for telling me this one is your very favorite. I can tell you aren’t lying. Thank you, Carter, for letting me finish the chapter before we took BP. Huge props go out to Phala Theng for helping me make sure my French was on point! And Autumn of Wordsmith Publicity—just thank you, period.

  This scary thing I did would have sat on that list for a very long time if it weren’t for you, the readers, who took a chance on one of my books the first time or discovered me with this one. Thanking you never gets old, just as creating new shoes for you to walk in doesn’t either. I’m already working on another pair.

  XO

  Ginger

  ALSO BY GINGER SCOTT

  The Waiting Series

  Waiting on the Sidelines

  Going Long

  The Hail Mary

  * * *

  Like Us Duet

  A Boy Like You

  A Girl Like Me

  * * *

  The Falling Series

  This Is Falling

  You And Everything After

  The Girl I Was Before

  In Your Dreams

  * * *

  The Harper Boys

  Wild Reckless

  Wicked Restless

  * * *

  Standalone Reads

  BRED

  Cry Baby

  The Hard Count

  Memphis

  Hold My Breath

  Blindness

  How We Deal With Gravity

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Ginger Scott is an Amazon-bestselling and Goodreads Choice and Rita Award-nominated author from Peoria, Arizona. She is the author of several young and new adult romances, including bestsellers Cry Baby, The Hard Count, A Boy Like You, This Is Falling and Wild Reckless.

  A sucker for a good romance, Ginger's other passion is sports, and she often blends the two in her stories. When she's not writing, the odds are high that she's somewhere near a baseball diamond, either watching her son field pop flies like Bryce Harper or cheering on her favorite baseball team, the Arizona Diamondbacks. Ginger lives in Arizona and is married to her college sweetheart whom she met at ASU (fork 'em, Devils).

  * * *

  FIND GINGER ONLINE: www.littlemisswrite.com

  Table of Contents

  Cover

  Full Page Image

  Contents

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Epigraph

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  Also By Ginger Scott

  About the Author

 

 

  Ginger Scott, Bred: A coming-of-age love story inspired by Great Expectations

 

 

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