I try not to get grossed out by what I think they were doing, but … Ew.
“You know what? I think I’ll come back later.”
“I have to leave for work in fifteen minutes, and then I’m going out with Gabby later.” My brother leans against the doorjamb. “So, if you want to talk to me, now’s the time to do it.”
I release a deafening exhale. “Fine … I wanted to give you a heads up that your boss might make you take a drug test.”
He gapes me, confounded. “Why the hell would he do that?”
“Um …” Suddenly, everything spills out of me, starting with the party all the way up to when Queeny texted me while I was with Maxon. When I’m done, my shoulders feel a bit lighter, but then I note the worry filling his eyes. “I’m sorry, Lucky. I really am. But I needed to let you know, so maybe you won’t be blindsided by your boss.”
Laughter bursts from his lips. “I don’t give a shit about that.”
How can he think this is funny!
“But what if you lose your job?”
“I won’t.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“Because I get high with my boss sometimes,” he replies matter-of-factly. “You know, Queeny’s kind of an idiot if she thinks some sketchy, anonymous call is going to get me in trouble with my boss, who I’ve been friends with since I was sixteen.”
“Yeah, I’m starting to realize how dumb she is, too,” I admit, freeing a trapped breath I wasn’t even aware I was holding. “You’re really not going to get in trouble?”
“Nah. My boss is a cool guy.” He assesses me with concern. “I’m worried about you, though.”
“I’ll be fine.” I fiddle with a hole in the hem of my shirt. “Just as long as she doesn’t do anything to you or Mom or Dad.”
I see his concern amplify. “Ash, you can’t let her bully you like this. And the rumors she’s spreading around school … It’s not right.”
“They’re not all rumors,” I admit shamefully. “Not the part about me hooking up with that stupid guy … but some of the other stuff she’s saying isn’t a lie.”
“It doesn’t make what she’s doing okay,” he says, straightening his stance. “And I think you should consider telling Mom.”
“Why? She can’t do anything about it. Other than worry. And she doesn’t need to worry about more stuff.”
“Yeah, maybe.” He gives an elongated pause. “Promise me that you’ll think about telling Mom, and that you’ll come and tell me if Queeny tries to do anything else. I don’t want you trying to deal with this alone.”
“I can do that.” But I probably won’t.
When I turn to leave, Gabby whispers something from across the room.
“Wait, Ash?” Lucky calls out.
I pause, turning back around. “Yeah?”
He looks back at Gabby then at me. “You want to hang out with us tonight? We’re probably going to a movie and bowling or something.”
“Is this a pity invite?” Wow, I must look pretty pathetic if my brother is inviting me on his date.
“Yes—” He winces as a paperback book smacks against his back. “I mean, no, not at all.” He throws an exaggerated smile back at Gabby. “See? I’m being nice. No need to throw books, sweetheart.”
“Don’t you sweetheart me.” She stands up from the bed and joins him in the doorway. “Ash, we’d love it if you came and hung out with us tonight.”
I push past feeling pathetic and offer her a smile. “Thanks for the offer, but I have a ton of homework to do.”
“How about Saturday night, then?” she asks, putting her hand on Lucky’s shoulder. “We’re going to this party my cousin’s throwing.”
“We are?” Lucky grimaces. “Why didn’t I get the memo so I could start thinking of excuses early?”
She pokes him in the side. “Oh, will you stop trying to act like a grump? You’re going, and you’ll have fun.”
“Yes, boss,” he jokes then tries to dazzle her with a charming smile.
She stands on her tiptoes and gives him a peck on the cheek. “I love it when you pretend to be grumpy.”
He rolls his eyes, but a goofy, lovestruck grin rises on his face. “Whatever. Just don’t expect me to dance while we’re at the party.”
The two of them are so gooey sweet they’re giving me a toothache. Knox and I were never like that. Ever. Sure, we kissed, but sometimes I felt it was more for show or to try to get to third base.
“Oh, you will dance, and you’ll love it.” She sweetens him over with a grin before turning back to me. “So, you’ll come, right?”
“Um …” I glance at Lucky.
He half-shrugs. “Do whatever you want.”
Looking back at Gabby, I open my mouth to say thanks, but that I’m not really up for any parties anytime soon, except she seems so eager for me to say I’ll go. And after she gave me those clothes …
“Um, sure.” I force a smile. “Yeah. A party sounds fun.”
“Yay!” She claps and bounces up and down on her toes. “I’ve been wanting us to hang out more.”
I want to ask her why, since I’ve been such a bitch, but I aim for a nicer response. “Me, too.”
My brother seems kind of shocked yet content enough with my answer, so I guess I did something right.
After we make plans for what time we’ll leave Saturday night, I return to the kitchen where I spend the next couple of hours helping my mom go through her inventory. By the time I make it to my room, I’m exhausted and ready to go to sleep.
Before I climb into bed, I peek out my window and over at Maxon’s trailer. His bedroom curtain is drawn shut after months of being open. I don’t know what that means, but my heart sinks a bit. Then any ounce of disappointment I feel over no longer being able to be a creeper dissipates as my phone dings.
Letting out a tired sigh, I roll over and pick up my phone from off my nightstand.
My exhaustion turns into mad confusion when I see the photo Queeny sent me.
A photo of me kissing Zane.
Chapter Eleven
I spend most of the night tossing and turning, barely getting a wink of sleep. I can’t get that photo out of my mind. Obviously, it’s photoshopped since I didn’t kiss Zane. In fact, if someone were to observe the photo close enough, they’d realize that. However, people tend to instantly believe juicy gossip and rarely give a moment to wonder if it’s really true.
Another question zinging through my thoughts is: who made the photo? The same person who started the kissing rumor? Or did Queeny do it herself to torment me? My bet is probably Queeny, since I’ve seen her do this before. And if she shows the photo to everyone, they will all want to side with her.
Needless to say, I’m not too stoked about going to school, but another absence isn’t an option, either, so when my alarm goes off, I drag my ass out of bed. Then I throw on a black T-shirt and a pair of shorts with fishnets, tie a plaid jacket around my waist, and top the look off with velvet red boots, matching lipstick, and kohl eyeliner.
When I look in the mirror, I hardly recognize the girl with big eyes and long brown hair staring back at me. And I’m glad. Maybe the disguise will keep me incognito all day.
If only.
Since my mom works early on Thursdays and Lucky sleeps in late, I check on my dad before I head off to school. Surprisingly, he’s awake.
“Hey, pumpkin,” he mumbles from his bed when I crack open his bedroom door.
“Hey, you’re awake.” Well, sort of. His eyes are half-open, he looks pale, and the circles under his eyes are dark like bruises.
“A little bit,” he replies through a yawn. “A little bit of a warning; I just took my pills, so if I fall asleep while we’re talking, I apologize.”
“No worries.” I enter his room and walk up to his bedside. “How are you feeling?”
“Okay.” He offers me a weary smile. “What I’d really like to hear about is how you’re doing. These days, I barely get to talk about
anything else but my pain level.”
“I’m doing great.” I wish it were the truth because I hate lying to him.
While my dad and I haven’t been besties or anything, we have a good father/daughter relationship, and I rarely lie to him, but I do omit certain details about my life to keep from disappointing him. For example, he doesn’t know about the parties I’ve gone to or that I’ve gotten puking drunk a couple of times.
“Good. That’s good.” He wiggles around in the bed, attempting to get comfortable. With his leg propped up on pillows, he can’t quite get there. “Anything new I should know about?”
Yes, Dad, there’s a ton. I can’t tell you most of it, though, and I really don’t want to.
“Well, Knox and I broke up.”
“Oh.” He frowns, but I can tell he’s on the brink of smiling. “I’m so sorry, pumpkin.”
“It’s okay.” At least one good thing came out of the breakup—it got my dad to nearly smile, something he hasn’t done since the accident. “I’m actually not that upset.” Which is true. After everything that’s happened, just thinking of the time I spent with Knox makes me feel stupid and sort of sick to my stomach. “I don’t think we were really right for each other.”
“I know, but still … breaking up is always hard.” He reaches for a cup of water on the nightstand beside his bed. “Honestly, I never thought he treated you right. Every time I saw you with him, he always seemed more concerned with his phone than you. If a guy really loves a girl, he will pay attention to them.”
I smile. “Well, you must really love Mom, then.”
“I do.” His face suddenly contorts in pain. “Ash, do you mind getting the ice pack from the freezer?”
I nod then hurry to get the icepack. By the time I return, he’s on the verge of falling asleep, so I position it on his knee then quietly leave the room.
Standing in the living room, I stare at the front door. While Clove did mention me riding with them to school, no plans were ever finalized, so I’m not sure if they’re planning on me riding with them or not.
“Since when did you become some silly, unsure girl, Ash?” I murmur after staring at the closed door for a ridiculous amount of time.
Summoning a breath, I open the door and step underneath the cloudy morning sky with every intention of heading over to Maxon’s trailer. But Clove’s car isn’t in his driveway, so the only options are to sit on the stairs and wait, knock on Maxon’s door, or hightail my butt to the bus stop.
“What is wrong with me today?” I lollygag at the top of the stairs. “Since when do I get so nervous?”
Since you lost all of your friends and have to start over.
I hop off the steps and hike for the road, figuring I’ll take the bus this morning. Then, at school, I’ll double-check with Maxon and Clove to make sure they’re okay with giving me a ride.
“Ash? Where are you going?”
I spin around, my heart leaping up to my throat. Then my racing pulse settles at the sight of Maxon standing in his driveway with a box beside his feet.
He’s wearing a short-sleeved, grey, button-down shirt with black stitching; a thin black tie; black jeans; and matching boots; along with an array of leather bands. I’d be a total liar if I didn’t admit how good he looks. Like, really, I-want-to-be-the-girlfriend-of-a-science-guy good.
I hitch my thumb over my shoulder toward the end of the dirt road. “I was heading to the bus stop.”
He walks down the driveway toward me with his hands stuffed in his pockets, his gaze skimming my outfit. “I thought you were riding with us?”
“I wasn’t sure if you guys were planning on giving me a ride today. I thought about texting you and asking, but I don’t have your number.”
“You could’ve knocked on my door.” A teasing smile dances at his lips. “I mean, I don’t live that far away.”
“Yeah, I know.” I feel so silly now.
“Here, give me your number,” he says, retrieving his phone from his pocket.
I prattle off my number, and he punches the digits into his phone. Then he texts me so I’ll have his. As I’m opening my messages to save his number in my contacts, I sigh at the reminder of the photo Queeny sent me last night.
“Is everything okay?” Maxon asks, slipping his phone into his back pocket. “You suddenly seem … I don’t know, upset.”
“Yeah … No … Maybe.” I frown. “Honestly, I’m not sure.”
“You know, if something is bothering you and you tell me, I might be able to help.” His smile makes my stomach do a triple backflip. “I’ve been told before that I’m good at problem solving.”
I could do that. So far, talking to him has helped. But do I deserve his help?
Nope. Nope. Nope.
I open my mouth to tell him I’m okay, when I end up blurting out the truth. “Queeny messaged me this photo last night of me kissing Zane.”
“But I thought you didn’t?”
“I didn’t. The photo was totally photoshopped.” I show him the picture.
He shakes his head. “That’s probably one of the worst Photoshop jobs I’ve ever seen.”
“Queeny’s a ditz with computers.”
“I’d say so.”
“Still …” I put the phone back into my pocket. “I’m not sure everyone else will look past what they want to see.”
“And you think they want to see you kissing Zane?” he asks in confusion.
“Not really so much me kissing Zane, but me screwing over Queeny,” I explain. “It makes for good gossip. And seeing Queeny tear me to shreds is just an added bonus.”
“You make it sound like the entire school hates you.”
“They probably do.”
He pauses. “I think you’re wrong.”
I smile sadly. “That’s because you’re too nice.”
“I’m not that nice.” He steps closer to me. “I’ve done some mean things before that I’m not proud of.”
I mentally roll my eyes. “Yeah, right. That’s like Elmo being mean.”
He slants back, his brows springing upward. “You’re comparing me to Elmo?”
“What?” I bat my eyelashes at him innocently. “He’s pretty cool.”
“He’s a puppet.”
“Yeah, so?”
His eyes narrow. “He doesn’t even have a brain.”
I pat his head. “Obviously you have a brain. But you are kind of sweet and cute, like a cuddly stuffed animal who talks in a squeaky voice.”
“I don’t have a squeaky voice.”
“No, but your voice is definitely cute.”
“I don’t find this conversation very amusing,” he says flatly, yet he’s on the verge of grinning.
“Why not? I just called you cute and sweet; what’s so bad about that?” I dazzle him with my most charming smile. “You know what? You’re right. I do feel better now that I’ve talked to you.”
“I’m glad giving me a complex makes you feel better.” He pretends to grimace. “Now every time I bounce around and sing, I’m going to worry whether or not I look like a fuzzy puppet with way too much energy.”
A giggle spills from my lips. “I’m sure you look lovely when you dance and sing.”
“I guess you’ll never find out since I’ll spend the rest of my life feeling too self-conscious to dance or sing.” His smile shines through.
I return his smile. “You know I was just kidding, right? I don’t think you look or act like Elmo.”
He dramatically crosses his arms and looks away, feigning hurt. “I don’t believe you.”
“I’m sorry. What can I do to make you believe me?”
“I don’t think there’s anything you can do.”
“No, there has to be a way. And I think I might have an idea.” I place my hands on his shoulders, and he tenses under my hands. “Maxon, I’m so sorry for telling you that you look like a bouncy, squeaky puppet. I didn’t really mean it. Please forgive me.”
His gaze briefly fli
cks to my lips. “Fine, I forgive you. But next time, please compare me to a cooler character.”
I wrestle back a giggle. “Like SpongeBob?”
“Then that must make you Squidward.”
“You so did not just go there.”
“Oh, I so did.” He grins wickedly. “So, if I were you, I’d think of someone better.”
“Fine.” I tap my finger against my lip. “How about the Mad Hatter?”
“And that would make you Alice?”
I lower my hands from his shoulders. “That wouldn’t be so bad. I’ve always wanted to go to Wonderland.”
“Really?” Excitement gleams in his eyes. “I could maybe make that happen for you … maybe.”
“Because you invented some sort of machine that can transport people into stories?” I tease lightly, just kidding. Well, mostly.
“No. I know of a Wonderland-themed party happening on Saturday. I’m not sure if I’m allowed to bring a guest or not, but maybe I could look into it.” He eyes me over with intrigue. “Why does it seem like you might actually believe I invented a storybook transporting machine?”
“Because you’ve invented a lot of strange looking stuff,” I say without too much forethought.
He carries my gaze. “Oh, yeah, and how do you know that?”
Face palm. Did I seriously just admit out loud that I spy on him? Because that’s pretty much the only time I’ve seen his inventions.
“I’ve seen your stuff in class.” Not totally a lie, I guess. I did see his stuff in class one time.
Before he can say anything, Clove’s car turns up the dirt road.
Yes! Saved by the beast car.
“Oh, look, there’s Clove.” I watch the car zoom up the road, struggling to ignore Maxon’s gaze boring into the side of my head. But it’s all I notice, and my cheeks glow like dopey fireflies.
Clove doesn’t slow the car down until he’s a few feet away from the driveway, then he slams on the brakes, kicking up a large cloud of dust into our faces.
“Great.” Maxon coughs, waving his hand in front of his face. “He’s in one of his moods.”
“A bad mood?” I ask, fanning the dirt away.