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  Hot by Halloween

  Squad Goals: Book One

  Jessica Bucher

  M.F. Lorson

  Copyright © 2019 by Jessica Bucher & M.F. Lorson

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Cover design by Parker Premades

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Prologue

  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

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Epilogue

  Also by M.F. Lorson

  Also by Jessica Bucher

  About M.F. Lorson

  About Jessica Bucher

  Prologue

  Addy

  We had been making squad goals since freshman year of high school. And so far I had a perfect record, which was more than I could say for Nora who had yet to accomplish even one thing. Last year, my goal was to get my first job. Mission accomplished and what a memorable six months of schlepping ice cream it was. This year, however, I was going bigger. We all were.

  I was first to get to the barn, allowing for optimum sleeping bag placement. With a hefty swing, I tossed my bag up into the loft and climbed the ladder to our spot. I liked to sleep under the window where a cool breeze offered a reprieve from the hot, sticky Minnesota summer. Lucy was gonna be ticked when she saw I had nabbed the window again, but that’s what she got for packing half of her belongings for an overnight. First come, first served. That was our rule.

  I scrolled aimlessly through my phone while I waited for the other girls to arrive. Mitch had posted three new pictures since I last checked. Three new, cheek-to-cheek, isn’t-my-new girlfriend-hotter-than-my-last-one selfies. I threw my phone onto a pile of feed sacks across the loft and waited bitterly.

  Nora’s cowboy boots clomping up the ladder gave her away before her long, blonde pigtail braids popped up into the loft. She never had to make getting a job her goal; she was stuck working on the farm for free all summer, a fact she never let us forget.

  “Where’s the princess?” she asked, unrolling her sleeping bag beside mine.

  “Not here yet,” I said. “Probably still deciding which pajamas have the most timeless appeal.”

  “I heard that!” cried Lucy from below. It took her three attempts to successfully throw her bag into the loft. Four if you count the time I threw it back at her.

  Once we had all set our beds into a Y shape with our heads meeting in the middle, we changed into pajamas (Lucy’s being the cutest, albeit most unreasonable for sleeping in a barn) and dumped the contents of our overnight bags into the center of our sleep circle.

  We were each responsible for something important. Nora brought the snacks. Her fridge was the closest, and her Mom made killer brownies. Lucy was in charge of the entertainment, and I brought the book.

  I didn’t trust either of them to keep it during the off season. There were embarrassing things in that book! Our first year of squad goals were weak. Lucy’s major goal had been to get a boyfriend, and Nora actually put “show my pig at the fair.” Mine had been to ask Mitch to the Sadie Hawkins dance—what a steaming pile of turds that had turned into.

  Lucy glanced at the five-by-seven inch notebook in front of me. After four years of sliding around in my purse, the glittery teal cover had lost most of its shine. But Squad Goals, etched in with layer after layer of ballpoint pen, was still legible.

  “It’s your turn to go first, Addy.”

  Nora nodded in agreement. “That’s right. I took fall last year.”

  “Does that really count though?” I teased, “What with you failing miserably and all.”

  Nora frowned. “I got very close to entering the talent show. It’s not my fault I got laryngitis during tryouts.”

  Lucy laughed, “And the year before, when you got a mysterious stomach ache, that wasn’t your fault either.”

  Nora rolled her eyes. “Addy’s turn,” she growled.

  I dug a pen out of the pile in front of us and popped the cap off. “I don’t mind going first, actually. Because this year I am more than ready to conquer my goal.”

  Nora and Lucy locked eyes. “Drum roll please,” I said looking at the two of them expectantly. The girls began to tap their hands on the barn floor gentle and slow at first, then rapid and loud. Below a horse neighed in annoyance. Pressing down with deliberation, I printed my senior year goal and tossed it in the center for inspection.

  “Ahem,” coughed Nora grabbing the notebook. “The first official goal of our last official end of summer sleepover is,” her eyes darted down to the paper and then back up to me, “Hot by Halloween?”

  “Clarification please,” demanded Lucy, pointing one finger in the air. “You are already hot. How is this a goal?”

  I retrieved my phone from its landing spot and pulled up Mitch’s account. “Apparently not hot enough,” I said, swiping through picture after picture.

  Lucy made a stern face. “Cassie Carlisle is not hotter than you. She’s just more…”

  “More what?”

  She cocked an eyebrow. “More giving than you.” I picked up my pillow and smacked her in the shoulder. “How do you know I’m not giving?”

  “We know!” cried Lucy and Nora in unison, the two of them bursting into a fit of giggles.

  “Well,” I said, clutching my phone firmly. “By Halloween, I’m gonna be so hot Mitch will rue the day he dumped me.”

  “Fair enough,” said Lucy. “But you should know, that we already think you’re hot. I’m on board with your goal, but only because it involves making Mitch jealous.”

  “Ditto,” said Nora nodding her head affirmatively.

  “Hot by Halloween,” I repeated with confidence, and per tradition, the three of us each clasped hands, walked to the edge of the loft and jumped into the heaping pile of hay below.

  Chapter One

  Gray

  Tryouts started with the freestyle. Thank God. The freestyle was my easiest swim, by far. It’s where I could really let loose and get out my frustration. And judging by my competition, I could nap at 50 meters and still qualify.

  I wasn’t trying to be a jerk, but something tells me kids in Minnesota didn’t exactly grow up in H20 like the California kids did. Even if I wasn’t the best on my team in Encinitas—which I was, I’d probably still be the best here. That’s a fact, not a brag.

  After I signed in, I sat alone on the bleachers and waited for my first lap. The pool was pretty small compared to my usual pool at EHS. There was a group of guys standing near the coach on the far side of the bleachers. They seemed to be pretty familiar with each other, which was a good sign for a team, but every few seconds, I felt them glance in my direction. I could tell by the informal introductions at the beginning of tryouts that the black-haired, beefy boy was the captain. He was too broad to be the fastest, but I hadn’t seen him actually swim yet, so I didn’t want to judge.

  I assumed they were scoping me out because I
was the only senior boy at tryouts. No one tried out for a new sport their senior year.

  “Turner.” The coach was standing behind the starting blocks, calling names to get everyone lined up. I took my place on the farthest lane, stretching my shoulders and steadying my breath. We were doing the 100 first, and I couldn’t have been more ready. He called a few more names as the others started lining up. They barely had enough swimmers for a whole team as it was, which almost made me nervous, but I quickly tuned out the thought. I just wanted to get into the water and clear my head.

  When the buzzer went off, I shot under the surface. Suddenly, I was home. The only sound was the movement of water above me and the deafening echo of every inhale and exhale. My thoughts were submerged as I fell into a steady, familiar rhythm. I wasn’t thinking about my time; I knew I wasn’t breaking any PRs today, but it was at least enough to qualify. All too soon, I was on my way back to the starting block, and even though my muscles were screaming, I was dreading the moment when I would have to climb out of the pool.

  When I finally pulled myself up, I could feel even more eyes on me than before. The coach was making his way over before I could even grab my towel. A couple of the boys, including the beefy captain, were following close behind him. A red-headed girl joined them as they approached.

  “Gray Turner.” The coach said my name like he already knew me. He put out his hand and waited for me to shake it. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

  I shook his hand and gave him a tight-lipped smile. The students milled around him, most-likely lurking to be nosy. “Did I make the team?” I joked.

  They snickered in response. The coach, a young guy with sandy blond hair, looked at me with an uneasy smile. He didn’t catch the sarcasm, apparently.

  “Everyone makes the team,” the girl said with attitude, and I caught her glancing across the pool at a small cluster of girls waiting to swim. Most of them looked pretty young, except for one.

  “Everyone?” I mumbled, still looking at the girls.

  It must have sounded too arrogant because the coach piped up in defense. “We’re lucky to have the swimmers we have. Without them, we wouldn’t have a team.”

  “Of course,” I answered obediently.

  “Well, we look forward to having you on the team. Your last coach called me, said you were strongest in butterfly.”

  As I nodded along, I noticed the team captain looking away while grinding his jaw. Butterfly must have been his race, which excited me. I looked forward to beating him in it.

  “Thanks, Coach,” I said as I toweled off my shoulders.

  “Call me Griffith. We’re probably a little more laid back than you’re used to.” He smiled as the little gang of minions behind him snickered playfully. I could feel myself tense, my jaw clicking as I ground my teeth. Laid back was not what I needed in my last year of high school. I wasn’t here to make friends. I was here to swim, get my scholarship, and get out of here—to Cali, hopefully.

  I didn’t pay much attention as Griffith called the next round of swimmers. Girls this time. I stood back and watched as they took their places. The brunette in the middle seemed to be a little out of her element. She kept looking at the other girls like she had never stood on a starting block before. There were enthusiastic cheers coming from the other side of the pool, her friends I assumed.

  When the coach finally blew the whistle, I couldn’t help but watch as she dived—no, toppled into the water. She practically belly-flopped and lost all of her momentum when she popped up and started chopping at the water like she was playing Fruit Ninja. The screaming of her friends was deafening, and if she heard it over the splashing around her head, I’d be amazed. It was like a car crash I couldn’t look away from.

  Long, torturous moments passed as she finally returned to the start. When she reached the wall, she clutched the edge and gasped for air, clearly out of breath and about to sink to her death. The awkward climb out of the pool wasn’t any more graceful than the swim. It didn’t stop her little cheering crowd from celebrating her victory like she got the gold.

  What’s worse was that she wasn’t all that far behind the rest of the girls. I glanced at the red-head standing at the front of the room as she stared daggers into the new recruits, this specific hot mess in particular. I almost felt bad for the girl, but she was smiling bright pearly teeth, seemingly ignorant of how awful that swim was.

  “Everyone makes the team,” I murmured as the coach gave the other students a tight-lipped expression. Then, I could feel their eyes on me, as if they were just as concerned as I was. I knew we were all thinking it: one swimmer could bring down the whole team.

  This girl appeared sweet enough, but if she was going to swim like that, then she was going to cost the rest of us any chance for state and me my one-way ticket out of here. She had to go.

  Addy

  For a brief moment, when the new boy climbed out of the pool, I considered changing my goal entirely. Maybe this year’s goal could be to kiss his face, a lot. I liked that idea. Also, it was far less work than getting hot. It was definitely less work than these try-outs. I had already swum more laps in the last twenty minutes than in the entirety of my life. And apparently we hadn’t even started trying out. The coach called my name, so I took my place at the edge of the pool.

  Joining the swim team was Lucy’s idea, so I was sure to glare in her direction before climbing up onto the starting block. “You’re already a total ten in my book,” she had said. “But if making Mitch jealous is really part of the plan, joining a team would look impressive.” She was right, of course. Getting a smoking hot bod was task number one on my mission toward meeting my goal.

  I promised the girls I would not do anything extreme in my pursuit of hotness. I meant I wasn’t going to give up carbs, but now that I was staring down 50 meters of water with no idea what I was doing, of the two, swim team seemed like the more painful choice.

  The problem was, when it came to fall sports, there weren’t a lot of options. Soccer had already begun, and I was pretty sure Cross Country and purgatory were actually the same thing.

  My logic had been, hey...I can swim, how hard can it be?

  Hard. It was so hard! The coach made no effort to show this obvious newbie how to dive in. As a senior, I should have been leading the pack, but instead I found myself looking to the freshman beside me for guidance. She crouched with one foot slightly in front of the other, her knees bent at an obtuse angle and her fingers pressed against the front of the block. I mimicked her, trying to drown out the sound of Nora and Lucy’s overenthusiastic cheering from the sidelines.

  When the whistle blew, I plummeted into the water. In my head, I sliced through with little to no splash, Olympic athlete style. In real life, I belly flopped, drank half the pool, and surfaced looking like a confused-slash-partially-drowned rat. The other girls were already a quarter of the way down the pool, so I kicked it into high gear. My limbs crashed up and down in the water as I pushed myself to catch up. By the time I hit the far wall, my last place position firmly cemented, I had used every ounce of energy I had. Pulling myself out of the water felt like removing wet clothing—heavy, awkward, and messy.

  Mitch would have died laughing. I couldn’t wait to tell him. Except I wasn’t allowed to tell him anything anymore. Everyone tells you that breaking up is hard, but until it happens to you involuntarily, you don’t get it. I didn’t miss all that girlfriend-boyfriend stuff, the kissing, obligation, and finishing each other's sentences, but I missed the companionship. How did you just stop sharing everything with someone when you’d been doing it for two years straight?

  I grabbed my towel from the bleachers where Nora and Lucy sat suppressing mad giggles and wrapped it around my hips.

  “Gee, do you think they’ll pick me?” I asked, glancing over at the coach. He was still talking to the new guy, clipboard in hand.

  Lucy laughed. “Look around. There are like five girls here.” She had a point. There were barely enough
people in the room to make a team. I would have had to sink straight to the bottom for the coach to even deliberate.

  “Besides, you weren’t that terrible,” continued Lucy.

  I cocked one eyebrow. “Your definition of terrible is very hard to aspire to.”

  Lucy shrugged. “You were only the worst by a little.”

  I shook my head. For a gorgeous, popular girl like Lucy, she was nice, almost to a fault.

  “Don’t look now,” said Nora. “But Gray is watching you.”

  “Who the heck is Gray?” I asked, spinning around to survey the pool.

  “Very covert,” growled Nora. “The new guy. I heard he’s from California, and he’s really good.”

  I didn’t need to know much about swimming to know that last part was true. Half of last years team had practically sprinted across the room to tell him what a swell job he did at the end of his heat.

  I flashed a smile at him before turning back to the girls.

  “That, ladies, is my prize for having to participate in a sport. I may be the worst here, but at least I have something fine to look at.”

  “Fine indeed,” said Lucy with a smirk.

  Chapter Two

  Gray

  After scoping out the options in the school cafeteria, I decided to go with an apple and a granola bar. I wasn’t quite sure what was in the “chicken sandwich” they were serving, but I’ve never seen poultry in that circular shape, so it was a hard pass on that one. I could have left campus for lunch, but the food options weren’t much better in town.