The Mysteriously Complicated Life of Ashlynn Page 9

  Realization punches me in the jugular. Is Clarissa right? Would Queeny have done to me what we did to Clarissa?

  My stomach coils with thorny knots. Yes. Yes, she would.

  “Sucks being on the receiving end, doesn’t it?” Clarissa says then hurries away, leaving me standing alone in the classroom.

  Well, alone except for Queeny and Knox, who are fused at the lips, hands wandering all over each other.

  Just lovely. Nothing like being the only one around to witness your ex-boyfriend and ex-BF putting in a 4.0 amount of effort to make a show of their relationship. To make matters worse, in order to get out of the classroom, I have to walk by them.

  I dillydally for a few minutes, hoping they’ll leave. And eventually, they do stumble toward the doorway … with their lips still locked.

  “You’re such a good kisser, Knox,” Queeny moans loudly between kisses, cracking open her eyes to look at me. “And you’re so hot.”

  He cups her ass in response. “You have such a nice ass.”

  Talk about the shallowest conversation I’ve ever heard.

  Rolling my eyes, I zigzag past the tables and head toward the door.

  Right as I near the doorway, Queeny presses Knox up against the doorjamb, blocking my way. Then she trails her fingers up and down his chest.

  “You’re so strong,” she purrs, glancing at me. “I bet you work out.”

  I point at myself. “Are you talking to me? Or to him? Because it’s really hard to tell at this point.”

  Knox whips his head in my direction. “Oh, shit. I didn’t see you standing there.” He massages the back of his neck then lowers his hand and gives me a hard look. “This must suck for you. I want to feel bad—I really do—but at the same time, I don’t think I should, considering what you did to me.”

  “Actually, it’s getting less and less sucky by the second.” I flash him a sugary sweet smile before motioning at the doorway. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll let you guys continue on with your ridiculously boring dirty talk.”

  His eyes snap cold. “Well, at least she does dirty talk. With you, all I ever got was a thank you.”

  “Hey, I said that one time.” I hold up a finger. “The first time we kissed. And only because you surprised me.”

  The hardness in his eyes reduces. “Ash, I didn’t—”

  “Please, just move out of my way so I can get the hell out of here,” I cut him off, stepping toward the doorway.

  Queeny moves in front of me, setting her hand on Knox’s chest.

  “Time for more kissing.” She leans in with her lips puckered and her eyes shut, but Knox hesitates, his gaze skimming toward me.

  “Um, maybe we should—”

  “Queeny, Knox.” Mr. Chester strolls up to us. “I hate to be the downer teacher, but you’ve both broken the school’s PDA policy way too many times.” He presents each of them with pink detention slips, which puts a big ol’ smile on my face.

  Go, Mr. Chester. You rock!

  However, my celebration is short-lived when Knox sweet talks his way out of the afterschool detention slip and instead gets lunch detention—which is way shorter!—by reminding Mr. Chester that afterschool detention could affect his playing for Friday’s game. Apparently, on top of wanting to be a writer, Mr. Chester also had dreams of being the star quarterback.

  Queeny attempts to work her magic, too, but Mr. Chester seems more unimpressed by her excuse.

  “I can’t miss my hair appointment, Mr. C,” she gripes, shoving the pink slip at him. “The salon has, like, a two-month waiting list.”

  “I’m sorry, but maybe you should’ve thought about that before you kissed your boyfriend during class.” Apparently, Mr. Chester has never dreamed of being a spoiled brat who wants to get his hair dyed at an overly priced salon. “Detention starts in exactly fifteen minutes. Don’t be late, or I’ll have to write you up for tomorrow, too.”

  Queeny stomps into the hallway and shreds the pink slip to shreds. Knox pats her back in an attempt to soothe her, glancing around with discomfort as people stare at the scene she’s making.

  “I’m so going to get his ass fired for this,” Queeny seethes, her face bright red. “And when I get done with him, that man will never work as a teacher again.”

  “Good luck with that.” I walk backward down the hallway crammed with students eager to get the bleep out of high school hell for the day. “And good luck with detention. I hear it’s where all the lowlifes and losers get sent.” Completely untrue, but she doesn’t know that. “And, who knows? Maybe they’ll convert you to their uncool ways. They tried it with me once and look at where I am now.”

  She slumps against Knox for support. “Oh, shut up. I know you’ve never been to detention.”

  I slip the handle of my backpack over my shoulder. “I actually have. It was that time we got caught for ditching, and I let you put the blame on me.”

  “Yeah, well, you were stupid enough to do it, so …” She shrugs, grinning sweetly at me.

  “Yeah, I was.” I let the truth of my words sink in. “But not anymore. And honestly, I’m not that sad about it.”

  “You should be.” She snags ahold of Knox’s hand. “When I’m done with you, you’ll more than regret stabbing me in the back.” She tugs Knox with her as she marches down the hallway, shoving people out of her way. “And maybe, while I’m destroying you, I’ll destroy your family, too.”

  “By doing what?” I pretend to be composed, yet I’m a fuming mess on the inside.

  No. There’s no way she can follow through with that threat.

  “By putting in a call to your brother’s work and requesting that they do a random drug test.” The grin she throws over her shoulder sends a chill down my spine. “I’m going to make you suffer, Ash, whether you like it or not.”

  Anger rushes through me in a violent wave, but I keep my feet planted on the floor, fighting back the urge to chase after her and knock her down. Because, whether I like it or not, Queeny has tons of videos and photos similar to the peeing on the tire incident. She also knows stuff about my family. Way too much stuff. It makes me regret every bad deed I’ve ever done. It makes me regret the last six years of my life and who I became in those six years.

  What I wouldn’t give to erase the last six years.

  No, better yet, what I wouldn’t give to erase the girl I was in those six years.

  Nine

  One hour and a very long bus ride later, I’m in my bedroom, surrounded by torn up photos, piles of cut up designer clothes, and Joan Jett’s “Bad Reputation” is cranked up to full max since Mom took Dad to a doctor’s appointment. I have exactly one hour to finish the destruction of my past before I need to haul my behind into the kitchen to sort through herbs and crystals that reek as badly as a dead animal’s carcass. The perfect punishment for me, for all my sins. Sins I’m reminded of as I rip up photos of Queeny and me; Queeny, Reina, Janie, and me; and even Knox and me.

  “I must destroy all evil things.” I do my best evil villain laugh as I tear up a photo of Knox and me at homecoming last year.

  That night, he won prom king and Queeny was crowned queen. It didn’t bother me at the time, but now I can’t stop thinking about how cozy the two of them looked on the dance floor.

  “Probably because they were screwing each other’s brains.” I shred another photo and another, continuing the madness until Lucky pops his head into my room.

  His gaze dives to the pieces of photos and clothing covering my floor, and then he glances at me with his brow quirked. “So, you’re destroying all the photos of you and Knox? But what’s up with the clothes?”

  “The clothes are Queeny’s.” I rip another picture to pieces. “And these are every photo I’ve ever taken over the last six years that include Queeny, Janie, Reina, and Knox.”

  “Okay.” He seems lost, but he doesn’t push for details. “As much as I hate to break up this ‘get rid of the bitch and the dick’ fest, I’m thinkin’ it might be a
good idea to take a break before the photos start fighting back.” His eyes exaggeratedly widen. “Papercuts can be a real killer.”

  “I can’t stop until they’re all destroyed.” I grunt as I attempt to rip a stack of photos at once. “Thanks for the advice, though. I’ll make sure to watch out for papercuts.” When Lucky doesn’t leave right away, I drop the stack of photos. “Do you need help cooking dinner or something? Because I’m pretty sure you’re capable of pouring cereal into a bowl all by yourself.”

  “Hey, you’d be surprised how hard that can be under the right circumstances, but I’m not here for help.” He opens the door wider, revealing Maxon standing behind him in the hallway. “You have a visitor, and you’ll be disappointed to know that I’m pretty sure he didn’t bring his torch with him.” He busts up laughing, giving Maxon a pat on the back as he heads down the hallway.

  Maxon gives me a peculiar look. “What was that about?”

  “Just ignore him.” I push to my feet, brushing fragments of photos off my pants. “He smoked way too much today.”

  He raises his brows. “So, he’s like Clove?”

  “Yeah, I guess you could say that.” I shift my weight, unsure what to say or why he’s here. Not that I’m sad about it or anything. Still, it’s a little bizarre. And after talking to Clarissa, I’m a bit hesitant, not only because she’s right about me bringing ugly into his life, but because he quite possibly may know about my silly, girly crush on him

  He lingers in the doorway, eyeballing the mess covering my floor. “Is everything okay?”

  I kick some pieces of clothing and photos out of the way. “I’m just doing a little bit of renovating.”

  A crease forms at his brows. “What kind of renovating?”

  I turn down the music. “The ‘cleaning out your evil ex-boyfriend and ex-friends from your life’ kind of renovating.”

  He wavers. “Is this because of what happened this morning at the gas station?”

  “That and the last six years.”

  “Oh.” He seems like he wants to say more but doesn’t dare.

  I wish he would. Wish he would tell me if he thinks I’m a nutjob for tearing up all my photos. Wish he would tell me where he was during school. Wish he would tell me if he saw that stupid video of me peeing on that girl’s car.

  I nudge photos and clothing aside with my foot to make a path into my room. “You can come in if you want. You don’t have to stand in the doorway.”

  He casts an anxious glance down the hallway. “Are you sure? I don’t want you to get in trouble for having a guy in your room.”

  “I’ve had a guy in my room before.” I bite down on my lip nervously.

  While I have had guys in my room before, I suddenly feel nervous, which is such a foreign feeling. I haven’t been nervous around a guy since ninth grade. So why start now?

  Burying my nerves, I tug on the sleeve of his shirt and pull him into my room. “Besides, my parents are gone. And Lucky’s probably too busy having a love affair with the television to even notice.”

  He stumbles into my room and glances around at the paneled walls decorated with posters of bands I’ve never admitted I listen to. At least, up until this morning when I was in the car with him and Clove.

  “Clove was right about you,” he muses, assessing my record collection on the corner shelf. “You do listen to a lot of punk rock.”

  “Um, yeah, because it’s good music.” I sink down on the edge of my unmade bed. “Way better than the pop crap always playing on the radio.”

  “I completely agree with you.” His gaze wanders to the space of bed beside me, and he sinks his teeth into his bottom lip.

  I look over to see what he’s looking at and nearly die of embarrassment. No! There’s no way he could know what that’s from. Could he?

  “That’s left over from a snack I had.” I casually pick up the cheese stick wrapper then get up to put it in the trash, but at the very last second, I slip it underneath a binder beside the trash can, hoping he doesn’t notice.

  When I turn around, he’s sitting on my bed and fiddling with my tarot cards.

  “Clove said you know how to do this,” he says, aligning the deck.

  “Sort of.” I sit down on the bed beside him and try not to take it too personally when he tenses as if he thinks I have cooties. “I’m not a professional or anything. I just like to mess around with them sometimes.” I collect the stack of cards from him. “My mom owns this, like, herb/crystal/all natural store, but a lot of people come in claiming to have wiccan magic.

  “When I was about fourteen or so, I was working at the register when an old lady came in wanting to buy some healing crystals to heal her daughter who was dying from cancer. She couldn’t afford them, so she offered me the stack of cards in exchange. Said they were super powerful and would bring me good luck.” I set the cards down on my lap and shuffle them. “I didn’t have the heart to tell her the cards weren’t worth the price of crystals, so I took the cards, gave her the crystals, and put my own money in the register. I never told my mom—I’ve never told anyone, I guess. Not just about what happened, but about how I like to mess around with the cards sometimes and pretend I can read my future.”

  I have no clue why I’m babbling his ear off. Maybe the stress I’ve been under has caused me to lose my sanity marbles. That doesn’t explain why my nerves bubble when he shifts closer to me on the bed. Nope, I’m pretty sure that has to do with why I can’t throw the cheese stick wrapper away and why I spy on him at night.

  “Clove only knows I do this because I forgot to put them away when I was sitting at my desk,” I continue my nervous babbling. “Queeny found out once when they fell out of my bag. She promised she wouldn’t tell anyone, but I have a feeling one day I’m going to show up at school and everyone will accuse me of witchcraft.”

  “Well, at least they can’t burn you at the stake anymore,” Maxon says with a crack of a smile.

  “I don’t know about that.” I tap the edge of the deck against the top of my leg. “Queeny can be pretty persuasive.”

  He rests back on his hands. “Yeah, I don’t agree with you.”

  “So, you’re saying you’re immune to her charm?”

  “Charm? What charm? All I’ve ever seen her do is boss people around and make them miserable.”

  “Bitchiness is part of her charm. Like how some people think they can hypnotize people with snakes—that’s Queeny.”

  “Actually, I think it’s the other way around—people think they can hypnotize snakes.”

  “Well, if that’s true, then why aren’t we tracking down these alleged snake hypnotizers? I bet they could give us some pointers on how to possess the mind of a viper.”

  His lips spread into a smile. The sight causes my stomach to turn into giddy butterflies.

  “I’ll look into it for you.”

  “Sounds good. Let me know what you find out.” I mirror his smile. “Until then, I might know another way to put the viper’s fangs back into that big, fat, gossiping mouth of hers.”

  His smile falters. “You think it’s a good idea to go after her?”

  I cut the deck of cards. “You haven’t even heard how I’m going to do it. Maybe I have an awesome idea.”

  “Yeah, maybe, but …” He sits up straight. “It’s never a good idea to tease a snake. It’s snake 101.”

  “Oh, I’m not going to tease her. I’m going to put her in my place by proving to her that she was wrong and that I didn’t hook up with Zane. I don’t want people to think I’m that cruel, or that I screw around with guys like that.”

  He seals his lips together with skepticism, and my chest tightens. Does he think I did it, that I hooked up with Zane? I wouldn’t blame him. The kind of person I portrayed myself to be seemed like the type of person who would do something like that. It still hurts to think that he sees me that way, that anyone sees me that way.

  Why did I do it? Why did I let myself get so far into this mess?

>   “It’s not true,” I tell him with my head tipped down and my eyes on the deck of cards. “I know I haven’t been the nicest person, but I’d never hook up with my best friend’s crush. Or cheat on my boyfriend. Or hook up in general.”

  Silences encases us, and I peer up at him.

  His cheeks are pink, and when our gazes collide, he looks away and stares at my door.

  “I didn’t think it was true,” he assures me. “I’m just wondering how you plan on proving to Queeny that it wasn’t.”

  I find his embarrassment absolutely adorable, which might make me twisted, but at least my twisted thoughts are my own. So, yeah, there’s that …

  “Well, Maxon,” I say, crossing my legs. “I’m so glad you asked because I’ve been dying to tell someone my evil villain plan.”

  He looks at me with a hint of a smile. “Don’t you mean your superhero plan, since Queeny’s the evil villain.”

  “Nope. I’m not a superhero; therefore, I can’t call my plan one.”

  “You’re not an evil villain, though.”

  “You’re wrong. And I think a lot of people would agree with me.”

  He shakes his head in all seriousness. “I think you’re being too hard on yourself.”

  “And I think you’re being too nice.” Guilt ninja kicks me in the gut. “And you shouldn’t be.”

  He rotates sideways, bringing his knee up onto the mattress. “Well, that’s really for me to decide, isn’t it? And from what I’ve seen, you aren’t that bad. Were you nice to everyone? No. But you aren’t like Queeny. You don’t go out of your way to hurt people.”

  If only he knew all of the horrible things I’ve done. If he did, he wouldn’t be here, trying to convince me that I’m better than Queeny. I might even be worse. Queeny doesn’t hide her evil bitch side. Me? I helped her ruin people’s lives. I stood in her shadow and pretended I wasn’t a snake.

  “Before you make a decision whether or not to be nice to me, maybe you should remember how I’ve acted for the last six years and not the last three days.” If I was a better person, I’d also confess all the evil stuff I’ve done over those last six years, stuff that affected his life. Apparently, I’m not a better person, though, because I don’t say anything.