Courtney Summers - Some Girls Are

some girls are

Also by Courtney Summers
Cracked Up to Be

courtney summers

St. Martins Griffin New York

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel, and names used, including any references to URLs, are either products of the authors imagination or are used fictitiously.

SOME GIRLS ARE . Copyright 2009 by Courtney Summers. All rights reserved. Printed in the United States of America. For information, address St. Martins Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.

www.stmartins.com

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Summers, Courtney.

Some girls are / Courtney Summers.1st ed.

p. cm.

Summary: Regina, a high school senior in the popularand fearedcrowd, suddenly falls out of favor and becomes the object of the same sort of vicious bullying that she used to inflict on others, until she finds solace with one of her former victims.

ISBN 978-0-312-57380-5

[1. BulliesFiction. 2. Cliques (Sociology)Fiction. 3. Emotional problemsFiction. 4. High schoolsFiction. 5. SchoolsFiction.] I. Title.

PZ7.S95397So 2010

First Edition: January 2010

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

To Amy Tipton and Lori Thibert

In Memory of Ken LaVallee
and Bob Summers

Endless thanks to my agent, Amy Tipton, whose tireless guidance, sup port, and hard work on my behalf continues to make all of this possible. Shes a force to be reckoned with and I aspire to her levels of fierceness. Sara Goodman, my editor, is a rock star who has an incredible way of looking at words, and her sharp insights inspire and make me a better writer. Its an honor to work with both of these amazing women and their endless passion and enthusiasm for this book saw it to its very last page.

To my family, David and Susan, Megan and Jarrad, Marion and Ken, Lucy and Bob and Damon, whose unconditional love and support means everything to me: Thank you with all of my heart. So much of this is what you gave to me.

Thanks to all at FinePrint Literary Management for being so awesome, particularly Stephany Evans, Colleen Lindsay, and Janet Reid. Thanks to all at St. Martins Press for putting this book together and making the finished product look fantastic. Thanks to my brilliant copyeditor, Kate Davis, for catching all of my mistakes, and to my publicists, Katy Hershberger and Vimala Jeevanandam, who are absolutely fantastic at what they do.

Thanks to Lori Thibert, who has been a constant friend, support, and inspiration to me. There arent enough words to describe what an incredible driving force she is, but Im going to e-mail her to tell her how much she rocks after I finish this sentence. I honestly couldnt do it without her.

Many hearts and thanks to Baz, Kim, Samantha, and Whitney, a talented, fab, and sparkly four, who mean very much to me. They can always be counted on to bring the ~*~, and the ~*~ makes all the difference.

Many thanks to the wonderful Daisy WhitneyIm in constant awe of her drive, her generosity, her kindness, and her time-management skills.

For their support and friendship and for being oh so cool (!), thanks to: Alicia R., Annika and Will K. Briony W., Carolyn M., Damon F., Danette H., Emily H., Fiona H., Jessica S., Kelvin T. and Tristan H., Laura S., Mehmet E., Mur L., Nova S., Susan A., Thomas T., Ursula D., Veronique M., Victoria S., and WMC.

Special thanks to Allie Costa for all the work she does and continues to do online in support of childrens and YA authors everywhere and to all YA book bloggers, whose passion and enthusiasm for YA novels has created one of the best online communities out there. Special thanks also to Verla Kays Blueboards for being one of the most helpful and supportive places for writers online (extra-special thanks to its moderators and administrators!).

And to absolutely everyone Ive been fortunate enough to cross paths with both online and off since all of this began, who have given me their time, encouragement, kind words, and support: Thank you.

Hallowell High:

Youre either someone or youre not.

I was someone. I was Regina Afton. I was Anna Morrisons best friend. These werent small things, and despite what you may think, at the time they were worth keeping my mouth shut for.

Everyone is wasted.

Anna is wasted. Josh is wasted. Marta is wasted. Jeanette is wasted. Bruce is wasted. Donnies always wasted. Im not wasted. I had my turn at the last party, called shotgun in Annas Benz after it was over. My head was out the window, the world was spinning. I puked my guts out. It wasnt fun, but its not like there was anything else to do. Tonight, theres even less to do than that. Tonight, Im the designated driver.

Boring.

Okay, okay, just Josh fumbles into his pocket and pulls out a little baggie of capsules. He tips one, two, three, four into his palm while Charlie Simmons, a fat, cranky sophomore, waits impatiently. I have to restock. He drops the pills into Charlies piggy hands. Thats all I can give you right now, man.

Charlie sniffs. Fitting: All that Adderall is going up his nose.

How much?

Oh... Joshs eyes glaze over. Forget about it. I like you, Chuck.

Charlie grins. Cool. Thanks.

Hey, Chuck, youre paying, I say, grabbing his arm. Instant scowl. Bring the money on Monday.

Bitch, he mutters.

He stalks off. Payment secured. I only strong-arm Joshs clientele when Josh gives his merchandise away, which is every time he gets this drunk.

Jesus, Regina. He somehow manages to trip over his feet, even though hes just standing there. He wraps an arm around me. Show a little respect, huh?

Fuck Charlie Simmons.

He laughs, and the ability to remain upright completely abandons him, forcing all his weight on me. I struggle to keep us standing, casting my gaze around the property for help. The lights are on, the musics loud, and I spot a few people puking in the topiary, but none of them are my friends.

Josh buries his head into my neck. You look hot tonight. His blond hair tickles my face, and I push him back. Its too hot out to be this close. I mentioned that, right?

Lets go inside, I tell him.

He laughs again, like Lets go inside is code for something its not, but I guess hes right: I guess I look hot tonight. Anna loaned me a shirt and skirt, and everything she owns is nice. I want you to look really good for once, Regina. Ive spent the last seven hours afraid someones going to vomit all over me, because I cant afford to replace the labels Im wearing.

I help Josh up the path to his front door. He stops abruptly, opens his arms wide, and shouts, Is everybody having a good time?

Hes met with scattered applause and cheers that barely make it over the music. He shakes his head ruefully, listing sideways. I wonder what would happen if I just let him fall this time, but he manages to regain his balance without my help.

Were graduating in like, eight months, he tells me very seriously. Im going to Yale. Who will supply these poor kids while Im gone?

I roll my eyes and right him for the thousandth time, forcing him into the house, where its a different kind of party-chaosquieter, but just as corrupt. Music filters in from outside, clashing with the music playing inside. Four seniors are toking up at the kitchen table. Drinking games. People making out in the living room. Its boringit always isbut its all there is. I just wish I was trashed enough to be able to pretend to enjoy it. I