The Heartbreaker Society Curse (The Heartbreaker Society Series Book 2) Page 5

  Swiping my finger across the screen, I open the message.

  THS: So, Ashlynn Wynterland, are you ready for your first task?

  What?

  Me: What task? And why did it take you so long to contact me?

  THS: No questions. All you need to focus on is getting the task done. Once you do, you’ll be brought into the society where we will give you information about what really happened the day your dad fell off the roof.

  Me: This sounds an awful lot like an initiation.

  THS: That’s because it is. We need to know we can trust you before we bring you further into the society. I know one of our members has promised us that you’re trustworthy, but we can’t take any chances with this.

  Me: But what is this even? Because I know very little about the society other than it likes to keep contacting me.

  THS: And we want to keep it that way until we know for sure that we can trust you.

  I let a gradual breath ease from my lips as I back away from the bathroom door and lean against the wall. I’ve been waiting for them to contact me, desperate to know more about what happened to my father the day he fell off the roof, how my old friends were involved, and why. It doesn’t make any sense.

  Me: What’s the task?

  THS: We want you to befriend Queeny.

  I shake my head as I type.

  Me: No freakin’ way.

  THS: Then there’s no freakin’ way we’re going to let you into the society, which means we’re not going to give you the information about what really happened to your dad.

  I grit my teeth. Dammit, this is so frustrating! I mean, I want to know what happened to my dad that day, but …

  Me: Look, even if I agreed to this, Queeny would never be my friend again. We weren’t really even friends before. I just stupidly thought we were.

  THS: I get your apprehension, but Queeny was closer to you than she has been with anyone else. You’re our only way to get to her.

  Me: Why do you want to get to her at all?

  THS: Now, Ash, didn’t I just explain that you have to earn our trust?

  I grimace.

  Me: Yeah, but like I said, even if I agree to this, Queeny will never be my friend again.

  THS: Really? Then why did she just invite you to her party with an invitation that basically vomited glitter all over you?

  Tensing, I glance around, looking for cameras hidden somewhere. I can’t find any, at least not in here, but I still feel unsettled.

  Me: How do you know about that?

  THS: I have my ways. Now, do we have a deal or not?

  The bell rings, announcing that first period is starting. Since I’m already late, I decide to stay here and finish this conversation.

  Me: How do I know for sure that you have info about my dad falling off the roof?

  THS: You’ll just have to trust us.

  Me: I can’t agree to this until I know I can trust you. This is a two-way street, my friend.

  THS: Well, aren’t you clever. But that’s okay. We like cleverness, which is why we’re going to show you this.

  Another message buzzes through. It’s a photo of my dad standing on the roof of our old house. From the angle, it looks like the picture was taken from the tree in our neighbor’s backyard.

  Me: Did you take this photo?

  THS: No, this photo was collected from someone we’re going to call Stalker for now. And there’s a ton more photos, all taken by the same person, all on the day your dad fell off the roof. And when they’re put together, they show a disturbing story of how your dad really fell.

  I swallow a shaky breath, my heart thrashing in my chest.

  How can this be happening? Why was someone taking photos of my dad that day? What really happened?

  As anger bursts through me, my fingers move across the keyboard.

  Me: Fine, I’m in. I’ll befriend Queeny.

  As soon as I hit send, I realize the bigger picture of what I just agreed to do. Not only do I have to attempt to be friends with Queeny, but if I somehow manage to do that, I’m going to have to be around her, which yuck. Not to mention, she’s going to be a bitch about who I’m dating and who my new friends are.

  That doesn’t matter, though. I’m not giving up Maxon, Clove, and Clarissa. Not even for this.

  I’ll just have to find a way to have both.

  Somehow.

  THS: I’m glad to hear that. Good luck, Ash. I hope you succeed because you have a lot riding on this. I’ll be checking in to get updates, but the sooner you get this done, the sooner you’ll learn what really happened to your dad. And I’m sure I don’t need to tell you about our policy on not telling anyone about this or the society.

  Me: Yeah, I remember.

  THS: Good.

  I return back to the photo, anger burning under my skin. I’m not positive what happened that day, but there’s no way these photos were taken for a good reason. Someone was watching my dad, but why?

  Why?

  Why?

  Why?

  The word rings in my head as I leave the bathroom.

  I’m not sure how I’m going to do it, but I’ll make sure to complete the task so I can get to the truth.

  5

  Ashlynn

  I’m late for class, which wouldn’t be so bad if the teacher didn’t give me lunch detention. Great. Now I’m not going to be able to see Maxon until fifth period, something I gripe to Clarissa about during second period.

  “Oh, will you chill out?” she tells me under her breath as we both pretend to jot down notes. She’s sitting at the desk beside mine in the back row, so it’s easy to talk without getting caught, as long as we do it quietly. “You can make it through one lunch without seeing Max. And I think everyone might actually appreciate a little break from having to watch you two suck face.” She smirks, so I know she’s joking.

  Well, I think she is. Sometimes it’s hard to tell with her.

  “It’s not about that.” I chew on the end of my pen, debating whether to tell her about Ava and how she was looking at Maxon this morning. And how she might be eating lunch with everyone today, something I’m a bit concerned about.

  “Dude, what’s your problem?” she whispers, her brown hair veiling her face as she leans closer to me. “You look super pissed off right now … You didn’t take my sucking face comment seriously, did you?”

  “No … I’m not pissed … I’m just …” I lean closer and whisper, “You promise not to give me crap over what I’m about to tell you?”

  She shakes her head as she fiddles with a hole in the knee of her jeans. “The foundation of our friendship was built over me being bluntly honest with you.”

  True. And usually, I appreciate her honesty, but with everything going on, I don’t think I’ll be able to handle it if she tells me that she thinks Ava is a better match for Maxon than I am.

  But mine and Clarissa’s friendship is also about honesty, so …

  “Fine.” I peer around to make sure no one’s listening then slant closer to her. “So, there’s this girl, Ava. She used to live here, but she moved away a while ago, and now she just moved back.”

  “I know who you’re talking about. She’s in my first period class,” Clarissa informs me. “Why’s that got you acting all weird, though?”

  “Well, I guess she used to be friends with Clove and Maxon before she moved away, and this morning she was talking to them. Or, well, more like she was flirting with Maxon right in front of me.”

  “Maybe she didn’t realize you two were together.”

  “We kissed right in front of her.”

  “Oh.” She frowns but doesn’t say anything.

  I blow out an exhale. “I probably deserve this, right? Not just for all the crappy things I’ve done, but because I helped Queeny …” I trail off, unable to say the words aloud.

  “Helped Queeny steal my boyfriend?” she finishes for me with her brow lifted.

  Guilt crushes my chest. “Clarissa, I really am
sorry—”

  She holds up her hand. “I didn’t bring it up so you’d apologize. I was just stating a fact.”

  I shrug. “Yeah, so? It doesn’t mean I can’t apologize for it again.”

  She rolls her eyes. “Please don’t turn into one of those people who constantly apologizes for everything.”

  “I’ll try, but no promises.” No, with how many bad deeds I’ve done in the past, I feel like I may be apologizing for a while.

  “Good God, you drive me crazy sometimes.” She smiles to let me know she’s joking. Then she grows serious. “But anyway, this thing with this Ava girl, you need to stop stressing about it. Max likes you, like a freakin’ ton. It’s honestly kind of annoying how much he likes you.”

  I shake my head, unable to keep a smile off my face. “It’s not annoying at all.”

  “Maybe not for you, but for the rest of us who have to witness it …” She gags.

  A smile pulls at my lips. “Thanks for cheering me up—”

  “Ashlynn, Clarissa, would you like to share with the entire class what’s so important that it couldn’t wait until the end of class to be discussed?” The teacher, who insists we call him Mr. D., interrupts me.

  Clarissa pulls a whoopsie face then turns forward in the seat. “Sorry, Mr. D. We were just, um …” She struggles for something to tell him, glancing at me.

  “Um … Discussing the assignment,” I say lamely.

  “Sure you were.” Mr. D. wanders up the aisle and comes to a stop in front of our desks. “I’m giving you guys lunch detention, which you will spend in my classroom taking notes.”

  Clarissa nods, but I hesitate.

  “Um, actually, I already have lunch detention,” I tell him.

  “Well then, I guess you two can come in after school,” he replies.

  “Actually, I can’t,” I explain. “I have to run my mom’s store after school.”

  “I guess you should’ve thought about that before you decided to gossip on my time.” He throws us both a dirty look before walking away.

  What a douchebag.

  “Sorry,” I mouth to Clarissa.

  She gives a half-shrug and mouths, “No worries. He’s an asshat.”

  I can’t help smiling at her reaction. If I’d gotten Queeny in trouble like this, she would’ve been so pissed off at me.

  Which reminds me, I need to talk to Clarissa about The Heartbreaker Society. But definitely after class is over.

  I spend the next twenty minutes zoning off and trying to figure out what to do about this afterschool detention thing. My mom was already apprehensive about me running the store. If I show up late because I got detention, she might end up not letting me run the store by myself and might close it up for the weekend, even though we need the money.

  Crap, I need to find a way out of this. Somehow. But by the time the bell rings, I haven’t come up with a solution.

  Maybe if I talked to Mr. D., I can explain the situation better, and he’ll be more understanding. Then again, Mr. D. is known for being a douchebag. Still, I have to try.

  “Hey, I need to talk to Mr. D. about this afterschool detention thing,” I tell Clarissa as I stand up and gather my books. “But I need to talk to you about something important. Can you wait for me? I’ll make this super quick.”

  “Sure.” She picks up her books, her gaze straying to Mr. D. who’s giving a kid a lecture about something. “Good luck. He’s probably not going to cave.”

  “I know, but I have to try.” I turn and walk up the aisle toward Mr. D.’s desk, lollygagging until the person he’s talking to walks away. Then, taking a deep breath, I approach him, my lips parting.

  “I’m not changing my mind,” he says without looking up at me as he sorts through a stack of papers on his desk. “If you don’t want to do the time, then don’t do the crime.”

  I resist an eye roll, but seriously, cliché much?

  “I understand that. I really do. And I’m really, really sorry for talking during class. I knew it was wrong when I did it, and I deserve detention for doing it. In fact, I probably deserve more than one day of detention,” I mentally roll my eyes, because I so don’t think that. “But the thing is, my mom owns this store and the income from it is what pays the bills because my dad’s injured and hasn’t been able to work for a while. And they’re supposed to be going to see this specialist this weekend so he can get better and hopefully start working again. But for my mom to be able to drive him, she has to either close her store for the weekend, which means my family loses money, or she can let me run it because she currently doesn’t have any other employees since the one she did have just randomly quit on her. Anyway, she decided to let me run the store, but she needs to go over some things with me before she takes off, and the only time that can happen is right after school, so I’d really, really appreciate it if you let me make up my detention on Monday.” I let out a breath.

  Holy crap, I just blurted out my family’s sob story to a teacher. But it’s the only way I could think of to get him to go a bit easier on me.

  He leans back in the chair. “That was quite the story you came up with. Have you ever thought about being a writer? You’re quite creative.”

  “It’s not a story.” I struggle to keep an even tone as I grow irritated. “It’s the truth. I really do have to run my mom’s store this weekend.”

  “Sure you do.” He leans forward and rests his arms on top of his desk. “So, what is it? You have a party you want to go to? You want to hang out with your friends at the mall?”

  Hang out with my friends at the mall? What is this? The 90s or something?

  I grind my teeth, mentally telling myself to stay calm. “I’m telling the truth. If you don’t believe me, you can always stop by the store and make sure I’m there.”

  “But why would you be there?” he questions. “Unless you plan on skipping out of my detention, which will get you suspended.”

  What’s this guy’s problem! I mean, I know he has a reputation for being a jerk, but I’ve never actually experienced it firsthand.

  “You can call my mom if you want.” I don’t really want him to, but at the same time, it’s the only way I can think of to get him to realize I’m telling the truth. And I want him to realize that really, really badly. Not just because I need to go to the store after school. No, at this point, I want to rub it in his face that I’m not a liar.

  He stares at me, his brow lifting. “Are you sure you want me to do that?”

  I hug my books against my chest. “Yep.”

  He slowly reaches for the phone, picks it up, and stares at me with a challenge in his eyes. When I keep my lips zipped, he sets the phone down. Then he picks up a pen and taps it against his desk. “All right, if you want to trade your afterschool detention for today, you can give me a week’s worth of lunch detention, starting Monday.”

  I’m not a huge fan of the idea of not getting to have lunch with Maxon, but showing up at my mom’s store is more important, so …

  “Okay,” I agree, trying not to frown. But seriously, detention is taking over my life.

  “All right, I’ll make a note of it.” He focuses on his computer.

  Assuming I’m dismissed, I turn around to walk away.

  “And Ashlynn,” he says.

  So close. “Yeah?”

  “The next time you talk during my class, I’ll write you up for a month’s worth of lunch detentions. And make sure to pass along the message to Clarissa.”

  Since my back is to him, I pull a face but say in my best ass-kissing tone, “Okay, I will.” Then I hurry out of the classroom.

  By the time I reach my locker where Clarissa is waiting for me, I’m beyond irritated.

  She takes one look at my expression and says, “I take it he’s still making you do after-school detention?”

  I shake my head while spinning my locker combination. “No, he caved, but only after he grilled me for like two minutes straight. And then he told me that if we talk d
uring class again, he’s going to give us lunch detention for like a month.” I yank my locker open and grab my books for my next class.

  “Seriously?” she gripes, slumping back against the locker beside mine. “That guy has problems. You know, I heard that one time he got someone suspended for chewing gum during class. Whether it’s true or not, I’m not sure. But knowing Mr. D., it could be.”

  “For sure.” I bump my locker closed then face her. “I’m going to buy you a king-sized candy bar to make up for it.”

  She grins. “Make sure it has chocolate in it.”

  “I totally will.”

  We start down the hallway, heading toward our next classes. As we pass Will Ivins, one of Knox and Jude’s friends, Clarissa’s gaze strays to him. He offers her a smile, to which Clarissa responds with an eye roll. His grin broadens.

  A couple of weeks ago, Will moved in with Clarissa and her mom. It was completely out of the blue and strange since Clarissa despises him and his friends. I’ve asked her about it a couple of times, but she won’t tell me why he’s living with her. I have an inkling it has to do with the society.

  “So, how’s that going?” I ask Clarissa while giving a nod in Will’s direction.

  She shrugs. “I pretend he doesn’t exist, and he does the same to me.”

  “You sure about that? Because that little exchange that just happened kind of looked like you both realize each other exists.” It also seemed kind of flirty, but I’m not about to say that aloud, or she’s going to get irritated.

  She gives me the dirtiest look ever. “What did you need to talk to me about? Or did you just make me wait around so you can annoy me?”

  “Whatever. Change the subject,” I say as we maneuver through the congested hallway. When she playfully glares at me, I smirk. Then I sigh as I note the time on the clock. “I do need to talk to you about something, but I don’t think we have enough time anymore.”

  She glances at me, confusion dancing in her eyes. “What’s it about?”

  I flick a glance around before stepping closer to her. “It’s about THS.”