Love, Comment, Subscribe by Cathy Yardley

PROLOGUE

Ten years ago . . .

This was it. This was the year.

Lily Wang straightened the hem of her tiered skirt and tried not to fidget. It was the first day of her senior year at Ponto Beach High School, the sky impossibly beautiful as only the skies in Southern Cal beach communities seemed to be. Her skirt was shorter than what she’d normally wear, and her mother would give her hell once she saw it—not because it was too trendy, but because it was too short, and her mom was the only one who was allowed to wear short skirts, arguing that it helped promote the family’s clothing boutique.

Lily’s stick-straight hair was newly cut in a sleek chin-length bob. Combined with her boho inspired pink blouse, it all looked bleeding-edge stylish, still casual, and sexy (but hopefully not trying-too-hard sexy). She was wearing makeup, a more pronounced smoky eye, something she’d learned from Michelle Phan on YouTube, and her lips were slicked with pink gloss.

If she was ever going to fit in with the popular kids, it would be this year. She’d never be more ready.

Now it was lunchtime. She’d defaulted toward the Bowl, a little grassy hillside by a concrete circle where the school regularly held assemblies. This was where the nerds and geeks hung out and ate lunch—a small collective that ironically called themselves the Nerd Herd, despite the fact that they were almost all honors students, headed toward lucrative careers and bright futures. This was where she’d had lunch for the past three years. Several people she knew had already congregated. Hayden and Asad were trading comic books. Keith and Melanie were talking about setting up a group outing to catch some sci-fi movie that weekend. Vinh and Emily, who had been dating since the beginning of junior year, seemed to be just as in love as ever, heads close together, chuckling and speaking softly.

“Hey, Lily,” her friend Tam said, scooting over on the concrete step. She was wearing jeans and a graphic tee with Pikachu on it, along with black suede skate shoes. Her dark hair was overlong, teeming with flyaways. She pushed her glasses up her nose, studying Lily, then smiled broadly. “How was Taiwan? You look tanned. Seems like you were gone most of the summer!”

“Just three weeks,” Lily demurred, refusing to sit. “Hung out with cousins, mostly. Went shopping.”

“I can see,” Tam said, looking over her outfit. “You look nice.”

Lily refused to feel uncomfortable, even though this was awkward. Tam was obviously waiting for her to sit down.

“Well, look who decided to show up,” a voice drawled.

Lily rolled her eyes. “Tobin.”

Tobin Bui, the group’s jokester. His glasses were askew, topaz-brown eyes sparkling with mischief as he smirked. “We were starting to think you were going expat,” he said. “You missed it. Epic pranks. Homemade fireworks. Josh and I even made a parody trailer for Toy Story as if it were a slasher film. I put it up on YouTube; I can send you the link.”

Lily sighed. Tobin had been recording skits and editing parody trailers since junior high. He’d roped all of them into them at one point or another. She winced as she remembered playing a medieval maiden in something he’d filmed. “Don’t you think we’re getting a little old for that?”

He looked genuinely surprised. “Josh!” he yelled. “Are we getting too old?”

Their friend Josh walked up, his blond hair a mussed mess, his T-shirt scrupulously clean but obviously faded, his pants hems frayed. “Too old for what?” he asked, taking the empty seat next to Tam and nudging her hello. Tam nudged him back absently before taking a bite from half of her sandwich, offering him the other half.

“For fun, I guess,” Tobin said sarcastically. “Our little Lily’s all grown up and says we’re getting too old for videos.”

“You are such a . . . goofball,” Lily said sharply.

“Oh, God. Not a goofball,” Tobin said, clutching at his chest with exaggeration. “How will I sleep at night?”

“Does everything have to be a joke to you?”

Tobin’s smile was broad and unrepentant. “Pretty much, yeah.”

“Ugh.”She didn’t know why Tobin got under her skin so much. They’d known each other since elementary school and had hung out since junior high, or at least had had the same group of friends that hung out. They were in the same honors classes. She’d even thought he was cute there, for a little bit.

But he drove her crazy with his cringeworthy antics. It was like the guy had no sense of shame.

“So, did you bring lunch, Lily,” Tam quickly interrupted, before Tobin could respond and the squabbling could continue, “or do you still need to buy it? I can go with you.”

This was it. Lily stiffened. “Um . . . I, uh, brought some.” She took a deep breath. “But I’m not staying.”

“Huh?” This from Tobin.

“I’m eating lunch over there.” She nodded in the direction of a fat palm tree in the nearby grassy area, closer to the bleachers and the football field. It was where the popular kids sat: largely football players, cheerleaders. But it wasn’t purely “jocks.” The two kids who were most likely to become valedictorian and class president sat there, too, and there were some other kids from the honors classes that somehow managed to secure a place as well. And this year, dammit, she was determined to eat lunch there. Hang out with them. Spend her time at crowded keg parties with scandalous stories to follow. Trade makeup tips with the homecoming court. Date one of the popular boys—despite having no real dating experience.

She was tired of being seen as nerdy and gauche. Ignored by cute boys and teased—gently or not so gently—by popular girls. It was probably the most clichéd thing on earth, the subject of a million teen movies, wanting to be part of the in crowd. But those movies had never captured how it felt, it seemed, to want to be beautiful and noticed and valued by people who made those kinds of decisions.

Because, being honest, as much as she loved her friends—they didn’t choose her. Most of them had some degree of social awkwardness, and they simply didn’t fit anywhere else. It was solidarity by default.

And somehow, that made her bitter, for all of them.

“You’re eating lunch there?” Tobin squawked in disbelief.

If anything was going to goose her into action, it’d be Tobin’s evident derision. “Yes,” Lily said sharply. “I am.”

With that, she started moving, heading toward the group under the palm tree, arranged in small knots of people, laughing and joking. A few of the boys were doing the half-wrestling, half-shoving thing that teen boys seemed determined to do, while others jeered and cheered them on.

Lily targeted Vanessa, someone she knew from Honors English and Journalism. They’d worked on a few projects together. Vanessa wasn’t a friend per se, but they were friendly. Lily had even gone to a pool party at Vanessa’s house sophomore year. So she walked up, as bold as she could. “Hey, Vanessa!”

Vanessa’s dark eyebrows went up. “Um, hey, Lily,” she said, obviously puzzled. She brushed her long, flatiron-straight, sun-streaked brown hair over her shoulder. Then she glanced at the girl sitting next to her, who shrugged slightly.

Lily suppressed a wince. The blonde girl sitting next to Vanessa was Kylee Somers. She was in Honors English, too, and a shoo-in for homecoming queen and probably prom queen and whatever other sort of queen competition was available. She had a friendly smile for everyone, and there were rumors that you shouldn’t piss her off. Rumors Lily staunchly believed.

“How . . . was your summer?” Lily asked.

The girls exchanged glances again. “Great,” Vanessa said slowly.

“Sucks to be back at school, though,” Lily added, when they didn’t keep going.

“Nah, I’m glad to be back,” Kylee countered, with a genteel shrug that made Lily feel like an idiot. “It’s good to see everyone again. I went to Belize for like a month, and I missed Travis so much!”

“You’re so lucky,” Vanessa said with enthusiasm. “I just hung out at Ponto Beach most of the summer. Oh, and we hit Baja . . . went camping for a week.”

“I went to Taiwan,” Lily offered. Vanessa looked at her sympathetically but didn’t acknowledge the statement.

Kylee’s boyfriend, Travis, tromped up, settling himself down with a huff. “Hey, Big Wang,” he said with a snicker. “How’s it hanging?”

Lily felt blood rush immediately to her face. God, she hated that nickname.

An awkward silence fell.

“So . . . did you, um, want something?” Vanessa finally asked, looking directly at Lily.

Lily blanched.

“I . . . I, uh, thought . . .” Her grip on her lunch bag tightened.

I want to sit here and eat my lunch with you all. I want to be a part of your crowd.

“I guess we’ll see you later, then?” Kylee prompted.

Before Lily could respond, Vanessa had turned back and was quickly talking with Kylee about Belize as Travis nuzzled Kylee’s neck, to her continued murmuring of stawwwp, Travis!

Lily had been dismissed.

She felt shame bubbling in her chest. She wasn’t more than a few yards away when the trio started whispering, then burst into laughter. Lily wasn’t sure that it was even about her. Maybe they were talking about Belize, for all she knew.

But it felt like it was about her.

Like they were judging her. Mocking her.

She swallowed hard. She wasn’t going to cry. She had worked too hard on this makeup, this look. She was not going to give anyone the satisfaction of seeing how they’d affected her.

“That went well,” Tobin remarked as Lily went to sit on Tam’s other side.

“Fuck off, Tobin,” Lily said, opening her lunch bag.

“Dude,” Tam snapped at Tobin, then put an arm around Lily. “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” Lily said, even though she knew she really wasn’t. “It’s nothing.” She bit into her sandwich. It tasted like paste.

It’s not your year.

But one day . . . she was going to show them. She was going to be popular, and recognized, and valued.

And they would be sorry.