Sell Out by Tammy L. Gray Page A

waiting for an explosion.
    “Personally, I love a good set of glasses.” Blake smiled like a man who knew he would look good in anything. “What do you think, Skylar? Would I look good in glasses?”
    “Of course, but it would be a shame to hide those eyes.” My answer was meant to be cute and truthful—Blake had remarkably blue eyes—but I realized too late it sounded flirtatious.
    Cody’s head lifted and he tossed his pen. “Done.”
    My nerves prickled under his stare. Why did I feel like it was now my turn to apologize?
    “Dude, that took you almost the whole period,” Chugger said.
    Cody fell back in the chair. “Ms. Yarnell must have been all kinds of ticked when she wrote up this worksheet.” He flexed his fingers like they cramped and passed the sheet to Blake. We each signed our name and passed it back to him.
    He glanced at mine and stared at me with bewildered shock. “Da Lange?”
    My cheeks flushed hot red. He knew the name? No eighteen-year-old boy should know who my mom is. Fear rattled my otherwise steady tone. “Um, yeah. It’s Irish.”
    The bell rang before he could probe further.
    I darted to my feet and Blake followed, grabbing my bag off the floor. “I’ll walk with you.”
    Cody glanced from me to the paper and back up again. He was going to figure it out. I could see the recognition in his eyes. Maybe that’s why he made me unsteady. Maybe it had been there all along.
    “Sure. Let’s go.” My ears were on fire. I wasn’t even going to get a full day of “real” high school before everyone knew I was Donnie Wyld’s daughter.

CODY
    I watched Skylar run out the door and knew I was right. That’s why she looked so familiar. Her dad was a freaking rock star! And not just any superstar. My idol. A man whose music carried me through some of the darkest moments in my life.
    I heard the faint mention of Skylar’s name.
    “What?”
    Chugger brow creased. “Blake. He has a thing for her. Sucks, you know. It’s like he has first dibs on all the hottest girls in school. First, Lindsay. Now, Skylar.”
    “Yeah.” I couldn’t think about that now. I had to confirm what I already knew to be true. Donnie Wyld married Brianna Da Lange two decades ago, and they had a daughter. I pulled out my phone the minute we cleared Ms. Yarnell’s “no cell phone” cave and typed “Donnie Wyld’s daughter” into the search engine. The pictures were old, probably seven or eight years, but Skylar’s face was too special to duplicate.
    The warning bell rang, but I didn’t care. Never before had I used my popularity to get something, but nothing could derail me now. For a moment, Skylar made me want more than my calculated existence. But it wasn’t her. It was the music. The heartbeat of Donnie Wyld that pulled me in like a drug.
    I pushed though the glass doors to the main office, leaned my forearms on the counter, and began my best Blake impression.
    “Hey, Steph.”
    “C-Cody, um, hi.” Stephanie Moore looked like a modern day Snow White, and making her cheeks flush bright pink was as easy as pulling an A in Life Skills.
    “That haircut looks great.”
    She looked down at the desk and doodled on a sticky note. “Um, thanks. I-I really didn’t think it was noticeable.” It wasn’t, but most girls cut their hair often enough that the compliment always worked.
    “So, I’ve been designated our group leader, and I need Skylar Da Lange’s phone number to set up a study group. She’d give it to me herself, but I won’t see her until after school. I really need to get this knocked out.” My mouth tilted and I winked. “Can you hook me up?”
    Steph quickly glanced to her left and leaned back in her chair like she was trying to see into another room. “I’m not supposed to,” she whispered, but she still moved the mouse and clicked. “But since it’s you.”
    It was odd to see the way she bit her lip and fumbled with the keyboard. Two years ago, she wouldn’t have known my first