The Opposite of Ordinary, Page 23
Jessica Sorensen
And just like that, I become achingly aware of why she’s here.
Queeny sees it on my face, too, and pure glee shimmers in her eyes. “The real question is: are you going to tell him … or me?”
“Oh, shut up,” Maxon tells her with a glare. “Do you seriously think I believe anything that comes out of that lying mouth of yours?”
Queeny doesn’t look at him, fixated solely on me. “So, which one is it? Do I get to break his heart or do you?”
“I hate you,” I tell her. It’s a ridiculously immature move, but I’m panicking.
My confession wasn’t supposed to happen like this. I was supposed to give him a letter, stained with my soul, and he was supposed to be able to go somewhere private and read it. Not learn about it in front of Queeny, who is going to enjoy his pain and humiliation way too much.
I’ve messed up everything because I’m selfish. I’m not a good person. I was just pretending to be.
Puzzlement contorts his face as Maxon notices my shift in demeanor. “Ash, what’s going on?”
“I need to tell you something,” I choke out. “Something really bad.”
He hesitates, swallowing nervously. “Okay.”
“It’s about the science fair last year,” I say quietly, staring down at the ground. “And you guys getting disqualified because someone lied and said you cheated.”
He doesn’t say anything, which is the worst kind of silence.
“I’m the one who told the committee you cheated.” I meet his gaze, afraid if I look away, he’ll vanish. “I’m sorry. I hate myself for doing it, and I wish I could take it back, but I know I can’t.” My apology sucks and is nowhere near even a summary of the words I penned on that paper. But when hate fills in his eyes, I’m not sure if even my letter could’ve saved me.
“Maxon,” I start, stepping toward him. “I’m—”
“Don’t. Just don’t.” He steps back, shaking his head.
I freeze. “I’m so sorry … But I … Can you …?” I struggle to form coherent words as anxiety chokes me.
He balls his hands into trembling fists as he moves farther away from me. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me a week ago. And after Clove and I told you how upset we were that we couldn’t compete this year, that we lost our chance at getting scholarships.” He sucks in a tremulous breath then lets it out. “Why didn’t you tell me then?”
“Because I was scared you guys would hate me,” I whisper, sucking back the tears. “And because I’m a coward.”
He moves even further away from me. “I don’t know what to say. I really don’t … I can’t … I just …”
A tear slips down my cheek as he steps out of my reach.
“I’m sorry.” I turn and run away with Queeny’s laughter hitting my back.
No one chases after me.
Chapter Twenty
I hide in the car until Lucky and Gabby come out about two hours later. They immediately sense something’s wrong, probably because my raccoon eyes and snotty nose are a dead giveaway.
Lucky drills me with questions during the drive, trying to get me to confess what has turned me into a crybaby, but all I do is shake my head and cry some more, drowning in a sea of regret.
By the time we get home, I’m a blubbering mess. My mom and dad are asleep, thank God, because I don’t want them seeing me like this.
I go straight to my room, ignoring Lucky’s protests that we need to talk. Then I flop down on my bed, put a set of headphones in, and cry myself to sleep over the lyrics of “So Sorry” by Feist.
When I wake up the next morning, my eyes are swollen and my body aches, but not as much as the ache in my soul. I hate Queeny for doing this. But what I hate most of all is that I did this to myself.
I lounge around in my pajamas for nearly half the day, resisting the urge to peer out the window at least a dozen times. Finally, around four o’clock, I turn my phone back on.
A few messages ping through, the sound making me cringe so badly I almost don’t check. However, curiosity gets the best of me, and I swipe my finger across the screen to see who texted me.
One message from Clove, and one from Queeny.
I start with Queeny’s first, figuring hers may be the easiest to read of the two, go figure.
Queeny: Hey, beotch, don’t think this is over yet. It’s not over until every part of your heart is completely smashed to pieces. By the time I get done with you, you’ll regret the day you tried to screw me over. XoXo
“No, Queeny, the only day I regret is the day I met you.” Sighing, I open Clove’s, and my heart catapults at the sight of Queeny’s log-in info and password. He did it. He hacked into her account! And he still likes me enough to message me the information.
Then my excitement tumbles downhill when I notice the timestamp on the message, dated yesterday afternoon, about the time I powered down my phone. A decision I’m betting he’s regretting right now.
Still, I open Queeny’s account on my phone with a strange new level of hatred burning in my chest as I read through the messages she sent to countless of her so-called friends. She flirts with almost every guy she talks to, although she’s supposedly dating Knox. She talks behind Reina’s back to Janie, and vice versa. Of course I’m the star in many of her bashing conversations. What really catches my eye is a thread she has with Sidekick from Hell Land.
“Who the heck is this?” I lean forward on my bed, squinting at the thread on the screen
Queeny: I can’t believe this is working. You were right.
Sidekick from Hell Land: Of course I was right. But you’re not done yet. Not until we get everything we want.
Queeny: What else can we do to her? I mean, she has no friends, everyone thinks she’s a thief, and her brother’s probably on drug watch at his work. She’s got nothing left.
Sidekick from Hell Land: She’s got plenty left. And I’m not sure those new friends of hers are ready to dump her completely. We have to make them really hate her, so she can feel all alone and you can have your revenge.
Queeny: What do you need me to do?
Sidekick from Hell Land: Give me a bit to come up with a plan, and then I’ll get back to you.
Queeny: Okay! TTYS. XoXo.
Anger rumbles inside me; a silent, impending storm. Why won’t she just leave me alone! And who the bleepin’ monkeys is this Sidekick from Hell Land?
I need to come up with a plan to stop her and fast.
Chapter Twenty-One
The next morning, I pretend that it doesn’t feel like I’ve been stabbed in the heart when Clove and Maxon ignore me as I walk down the road to the bus stop. But I feel like my soul has been ripped out and squeezed to ashes. And the pain doesn’t get any easier to deal with as the days pass and loneliness starts to take over my life.
Queeny continues to torment me, spreading gossip about me and carving “Asslynn Wynterland, liar, thief, and whore!” into my locker so deeply that even paint doesn’t cover it up.
I spend the entire week keeping an eye on her messages, seeing if anything good pops up that I can use against her. But even after I send Janie a screenshot of Queeny bashing her with Reina, and vice versa, they remain her loyal, yappy poodles. And my endeavor at spreading rumors about Queeny quickly fails since no one will talk to me.
I continue to trudge through school like a zombie. I eat lunch in the bathroom, spend mornings and afternoons on the bus, and put in extra hours at my mom’s store to avoid spending my afterschool time alone, listening to depressing music.
On day five of my emotional zombie state of mind, my mom tries to coax the truth out of me.
“Ash, please tell me what’s going on with you,” she says as we’re driving home from the store.
“I’m just tired,” I lie, staring out at the stars dotting the night sky.
When I spot a shooting star, I close my eyes and wish the tarot card reading I gave Maxon had never been correct. I wish I’d told him my secret before it grew big enough to d
estroy our friendship, or whatever was going on between us.
“You’re not just tired. You’ve been completely unattached from reality for the past week.” She dims the headlights for a passing car. “Look, I know you like to keep stuff to yourself, which is fine most of the time, but when it’s affecting you like this, you need to tell me so I can try to help you.”
There’s no way I can tell her the truth. Still, I want to talk to someone about one thing …
“Maxon’s mad at me, and so is Clove, one of Maxon’s friends who kind of became my friend over the last week or so … And I know I haven’t been friends with them for very long, but still …” I massage my aching chest. “It felt like the realest friendship I’ve ever had. And now it’s gone. And it sucks.”
She flips on the blinker and steers the car into the trailer park. “Can I ask why he’s mad at you?”
“Because I lied about something.”
“Can I ask what that something is?”
I smash my lips together and release a breath out of my nose. “I did something bad to him a year ago, and instead of being upfront with him when we started spending time together, I lied. This fight … It’s all my fault. And what’s happening to me right now … I deserve it. If I could take it back, I would. But I can’t.”
“Have you tried to apologize?” she asks, parking the car next to our trailer.
I unbuckle my seatbelt. “Sort of. It wasn’t a very good apology, though.”
“Maybe you should try again, then.”
“I don’t think they’ll even give me a chance to try again.”
She reaches over the console and pats my leg. “You won’t know until you try, will you?” She smiles as she gets out of the car, leaving her words to echo around me.
She said the words with such simplicity, as if apologizing is so easy. I know it won’t be. At least, I doubt it will. Even if I went through with it, I doubt they’ll forgive me. They might not even give me a chance to apologize.
Doubt.
Doubt.
Doubt.
That’s a lot of doubt, but no certainty whatsoever.
My mom’s right, though. I won’t know until I try. And not only to offer Maxon and Clove and the rest of the science nerds an apology, but so I can attempt to forgive myself because this guilty thing is starting to eat away at my current zombie brain status.
When I get to my bedroom, I put the apology letter in my backpack, hoping that I can do the apology right the second time around. I just hope I can get Maxon and Clove to give me at least a minute of their time. So far, they won’t come within fifty feet of me.
Before I climb into bed, I check my text messages like I do every night, secretly hoping that Maxon has messaged me. No surprise. He hasn’t. What does shock my zombie brain into a coherent state is when I see a text from Clarissa.
“Why on earth would she be texting me?” I mutter, tapping the message open.
Clarissa: Meet me in the girls’ bathroom before school starts tomorrow. I have a proposition for you, one that will give you a chance to talk to Maxon and Clove again.
I blink at the message several times. The timing is too perfect. Seriously. After just deciding to attempt to get Maxon and Clove to talk to me, she texts me that she can make that happen?
I peer around my room, and then glance out the window to see if I’m being watched. Yeah, I know I’m acting straight up crazy right now. Considering what I’ve done in the past, though, the idea isn’t that out there.
When I’m convinced Clarissa isn’t outside, looming in the dark, I text her back that I’ll meet her. Then I close my eyes and lie in bed for hours, trying to convince myself that I’ll be okay, even if I end up alone.
Chapter Twenty-Two
The next morning, I feel so restless and nervous about meeting Clarissa that I end up waking up at the butt-crack of dawn. After downing a couple of cups of coffee, I pull on a pair of torn jeans, a black T-shirt, and top the look with a leather jacket and lace-up sneakers.
Before I head to the bus stop, I get online to check Queeny’s messages and see what awaits me today. What I read not only worries me to the core, but makes my blood bubble like a witch’s pot of brew.
Queeny: I could always say there are rats in her mom’s store. You know, and report it to the health department or whatever.
Sidekick from Hell Land: I’m not sure if that will do much. Not unless you hide dead rats inside the store near food or something, and then the inspector finds it. Does the store even sell food?
Queeny: I’m not sure. I’ve never been in there. And Ash barely talked about it.
Sidekick from Hell Land: Well, I think it might be time for you to get your pretty fingernails dirty.
Queeny: You want me to touch dead rats? No way!
Sidekick from Hell Land: No, that part comes later. I need you to visit the store and get some info. Like, what they sell, how easy it would be to break in—stuff like that.
Queeny: Fine. I’ll drop in after school. But you owe me.
Sidekick from Hell Land: Oh, I plan to pay you back later tonight. Three, maybe four times.
Queeny: Cocky much?
Sidekick from Hell Land: Don’t pretend like you don’t like it.
Queeny: Whatever. Be at my house at nine. And you better not be late. XoXo
I fold my fingers into fists. “No, I’m not going to let her get away with this.”
Even though I hate adding stress to my mom’s life, I head out of my room to go find her and warn her. But Lucky informs me she’s already left for work. When he asks me what’s wrong, I confess what’s been happening.
Shaking his head, he pours cereal into a bowl and spills some all over the counter. “Dammit, Ash. I’m really starting to hate your friend.”
“Ex-friend,” I say pointlessly, then sigh. “What do you think I should do? Tell Mom? I mean, I don’t want to, but I also don’t want dead rats ending up in the store.”
Shaking his head, he cleans up the spilled cereal and drops it into the bowl. “I’ll keep an eye on the store, and if I see anything sketchy, or see Queeny lurking around, I’ll give Mom a heads up.”
“Do you have time for that?”
“I’ll make time.”
Even though I know he hates it, I give him a hug. “Thanks, Lucky. I’ll go down to the store after school every day until I can figure this out.”
“We’ll figure this out,” he stresses, giving me an awkward pat on the back.
I pull back to look at him. “You’re going to help me?”
He nods, popping a few pieces of cereal into his mouth. “I’m not going to let Queen Bitchton ruin our family.”
I smile, but the movement hurts. “Thanks, Lucky. I owe you big time.”
He waves me off, picks up the bowl, and then heads into the living room to eat his breakfast.
Feeling very grateful for my family, I say good-bye to my dad, grab my bag, and hurry to the bus stop.
After a very long bus ride to school, I make a quick stop at my locker before going to the girls’ bathroom. I’m not sure how nice Clarissa is going to be, but I wore sneakers. You know, comfy shoes in case this is a setup and she’s planning on jumping me.
I nervously pace the floor, waiting for her to show. Then, around ten past eight, I turn to leave, figuring she stood me up.
“Running away again?” she asks as she pushes through the door.
“I thought you weren’t going to show.” I linger near the sinks, a good distance away from her as the door swings shut.
She reclines against the door, blocking my exit. “Is anyone else in here?”
I consider lying and nodding to keep from this turning into a fight, but I’m tired of lying, so I shake my head. “It’s just me and you.”
“Good.” She pushes away from the door and stalks toward me. “I warned you not to hurt him.”
“I didn’t mean to. Things just got so out of hand.”
“Because you lied.”
She stops just short of me. “Maybe you should’ve never screwed him over to begin with.”
I rub the sore spot on my elbow. “I wish I hadn’t. But I was different back then … weaker … meaner … Queeny’s little puppet.”
“I know you were.” She studies me with her head cocked to the side. “But I agree with you. You’re definitely different now. I can tell you’re really sorry about what you did.”
I nod, wanting her to believe me so badly my body aches. “I swear I am. And maybe, if you could tell Maxon and Clove that … they might listen to you.”
She wavers. “I could do that, but I’m not sure if I want to.”
“Okay …” My shoulders slump in defeat. “Then why are we here?”
She rubs her finger across her bottom lip, contemplating. “Because I have a proposition for you.”
My gaze skits across the empty stalls then lands back on her. “And what’s the proposition?”
She lowers her hand from her lip and retrieves a card from her pocket. “Call this number when I walk out of here.” She urges me to take the card. “If you do that and you’re cooperative, I might be willing to help get Clove and Maxon back to staring at you like a couple of dazed idiots.”
I glance down at the card, fairly sure I know what’s written on it. “The Heartbreaker Society.” I sink my teeth into my bottom lip as I look up at her. “Actually, I already called this number after you dropped a card in the locker room. Some guy answered and asked me a really strange question about how to rip out an evil villain’s heart.”
There’s zero shock factor. “I know you did.”
Wait? Was she really spying on me? “How?”
“I didn’t drop the card on accident. Just like I didn’t play lookout for you because I’m a nice person. I had—have—a reason for everything I do.”
