by A. J. Logan
12
The obnoxious jerk is staring at me from his favorite spot in the courtyard, sitting on the stone wall like it’s his frickin’ throne. If I was smarter, I’d be dealing with the librarian and her snake for lunch. I want to keep my head down to get through the day, but I’ll be damned if I hide away like some coward. The last thing I want is Asher to think I’m running scared. I have a feeling that sensing my fear would make him push harder. And there’s a side of me that fears whatever is locked in his demented mind. Another side just wants to torture him, make him feel half the misery I feel from both his actions and everything else around me that I have no control over.
Studying the textbook in front of me, I see Victoria’s shadow when she resumes her seat at the wooden picnic table.
“You need to stay away from Grant.”
Looking up, I meet Victoria’s gaze. “You too?”
“Yes. You really should stay far away from him.” She pauses for a moment, looking down at the table before her attentive gaze snaps to me. “He’s not a good person.”
“Neither is your brother.” The memory of the darkroom surfaces as I attempt to push it out of my head.
“You’re correct, but Grant is worse.”
“Worse than Asher?” I can’t help but laugh at her choice of words. She is on her brother’s side. “I get that he’s your brother, and I’m sure you heard his version of the story already, but Grant wasn’t doing anything wrong. Elliot and Asher approached us.”
“Please be careful, Quinn.”
Slamming my book closed, I stand. I’m not running away. I’m removing myself from whatever bizarre problem they all have with each other.
“I’ll try to keep that in mind the next time your brother yanks me into a darkroom and gropes my ass.”
A slight blush rises on her cheeks. She might want to believe her brother isn’t worse than Grant, but he’s shown me a side I can’t forget. And trust me, I’m trying my best to forget every side—and feeling—of Asher Hastings.
Woodshop. I’d signed up for woodshop. No wonder Grant kept asking me if I was sure. Maybe reading one of the damn pamphlets would’ve been beneficial. Then again, after the last hour spent sitting across from Asher in Environmental Science, with Elliot’s noticeably empty chair next to mine, I welcome any class without Asher’s presence.
The smell of pine and burning wood overwhelms my senses. The shop is a far stretch from the other fancy classrooms. Smooth cement floors replace the usual marble tiles and there are basic wooden tables throughout the room. The machinery, on the other hand, looks like the best of the best. Even in its woodshop, this school flaunts that they have more money than your run-of-the-mill public school.
Tossing my bag on the table, I slide onto the cold metal stool. My fingers trace a few indentations in the wood table, smoothing over carved initials and symbols. I wonder if my dad ever took a woodshop class.
“Another tradition.”
My head snaps up to see Grant, sliding onto the stool next to me.
His face. My stomach turns as I study the gash across the bridge of his nose, which peeks out from under a fresh bandage, and his left eye is bruised, nearly swollen shut.
“Every student carves something into the table at the end of the school year.”
Automatically, my hand reaches forward, almost touching his face before I jerk back, realizing what I’m doing. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah. It looks worse than it feels.”
A voice mocks from across the table, “That’s what all pussies say when they get their ass kicked.”
Wade is sitting across the table from us. When did he get there and how had I not noticed? Ignoring Asher’s ignorant minion, I turn back to Grant.
“I figured you and Elliot were expelled, or at least suspended.”
He chuckles. “Nah, there’s not much you can do at this school to get expelled.”
This school is unbelievable—then it dawns on me. “So … what part of the school did your family build?”
“None of it.” He winks, “But we did help build the football stadium.”
I can’t mask the irritation on my face. “So, what happens to the peons whose families didn’t fund this place? Do they get away with murder too?”
“Yes, most of the time. But we didn’t get away with it. Principal Huntington finally figured out that pulling students out of class wasn’t a punishment but a reward. He devised other ways to make us suffer, and it’s usually based off the crime committed.”
“And what’s the sentence for fighting?”
“Saturday and Sunday at school. It really is a punishment.”
There’s a slight moment where I’m thankful to Asher. And it’s really only very slight, but I’m glad he didn’t rat me out. Staying at this school longer really is a worse punishment.
“I’m sorry.”
“It wasn’t your fault.” Grant folds his hands on the table.
“That’s the truth,” Wade interrupts before walking across the room.
“Just ignore him,” Grant says, his eyes on Wade.
“I’m trying,” I say as calmly as possible, feeling the muscles in my hands tense. “I’m trying to ignore all of them, but they’re everywhere.”
“Yes, they are.” He seems to know I’m speaking of Asher and his following. “But I’ll be around, too, if you need anything.”
I look away, unsure how to respond. I want to take a hammer to Asher’s buttons, but I don’t want to bring Grant into whatever mess Asher has planned. He isn’t going to give up even if I do my best to ignore him. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea. Seems like you have enough issues with them.”
“It doesn’t matter. And I can take care of myself, despite appearances,” he motions to his face. “I’d really like to hang out sometime if you’re up for it.”
I give him a slight smile, not answering as Mason enters my mind. Even without all the crap with Asher, Mason is still lingering in the background. We aren’t technically together anymore, but I don’t know exactly what we are. Nothing makes sense since the night I lost my dad, and even thinking about my dad isn’t making sense to me. Maybe if I can figure out the truth about what was going on with him, I can make sense of everything else around me because right now, I feel like I’m spiraling down a dark hole. With Asher tormenting me along the way.
The teacher begins explaining the projects he has planned for the next few weeks as Wade resumes his seat across the table from me, taking too many glances in my direction. I wonder if he’s here by choice or if he’s another ploy in Asher’s mind game.
13
Stepping out of the Audi in the garage, I look over to the broken-down Corvette. The gift that keeps on giving, my dad had said because he’d loved the time we’d spent working on it, even if we’d made very little progress. Climbing and the Corvette—the two things I’d once loved significantly now only cause an inescapable heartache. Hurrying out the garage, I slam the side door closed as I dash across the driveway. No need to reminisce about the dream car that is now nothing but a memento of my never-ending nightmare.
Walking through the back door of the house, I make my way into the kitchen to grab a bottle of water out of the fridge. I head in the opposite direction of my room, planning to take the rear staircase in order to avoid seeing anyone, but mainly Candace. She’s not only a reminder of the pain I’d experienced at her hand as a seven-year-old child, but her presence also recaps the current anguish that I’m only here because my dad isn’t.
The immaculately decorated hallway seems endless as I make my way towards my room. I freeze at the sound of hushed voices coming from a room I’m unfamiliar with—there are only about a million of them, so who can blame me. Holding my breath, I listen as the tone of the conversation takes a heated direction.
“I want answers … now.”
Nathan.
“And you think I don’t?” A female’s voice but definitely not Candace.
I should
n’t eavesdrop, but my feet are glued to the floor. It can’t be more than a business meeting, right? Nathan is supposed to be a decent guy. Maybe it’s his assistant or something … in his house … in the afternoon … having a meeting in a room that’s not his office.
“We were so close. He had to know we were onto him.” Nathan’s words hang in the air, but the woman remains silent. “Did you tell him?”
“Of course not, dipshit. I’m done with this conversation.”
Before I can get out of sight, the door swings open. A woman dressed in a gorgeous black pant suit, red hair falling in waves around her shoulders, stops short, green eyes boring into me. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think she walked straight off a magazine cover.
Nathan steps out the room, moving around her as he spots me without an ounce of surprise on his face. “I’m guessing the second day of school wasn’t as exciting as the first?”
Oh, if he only knew. The only difference was I wasn’t the hands-on perpetrator of the big event today.
“Quinn, I’m presuming.” The woman folds her arms over her chest, looking down to my shoes then back to my eyes. “No delinquent reports from today?”
“Not yet.” Who is this lady, and what the hell is it with everyone’s obvious assessments? You’d think these socialites would have better manners.
Nathan stands beside me, motioning to the lady. “Don’t let her get to you. She’s just upset her son was part of the report yesterday.”
Asher’s mom. And the obvious source of Victoria’s red hair, and beauty. But why is she having a meeting with Nathan?
“Quinn, this is Monica Hastings.”
Neither of us move a muscle as Nathan makes the formal introduction. I’m still occupied with trying to figure out what this lady’s deal is. Evidently, a talent of mine is pissing off a Hastings without even meeting them beforehand. I guess I was just lucky that Victoria had taken an automatic liking to me—one out of three isn’t too bad. Nathan’s jolly demeanor remains in place, oblivious to the hostility flowing from Monica’s rigid-bitch stance.
“I’ll see myself out.” Her black heels click along the marble floor as she confidently strides down the hallway. Asher definitely came by his arrogance inherently.
“Where’s Candace?” I ask, not caring about the answer but wanting to gauge his reaction to the question.
“Tanner has piano lessons after school. They should be home in a few hours.”
I nod. That answers more than I truly wanted to know. Nathan knew Candace wouldn’t be around to witness his peculiar meeting with Monica. It wouldn’t make me as suspicious if they were meeting in his office. Wouldn’t you hold a business meeting in your office and not some random room in your vast mansion? From the heated tension I’d heard between them, something is going on with them, and it’s something they don’t want anyone to know about. No one is who they appear to be.
“Everything okay?” Nathan asks as I turn to head to my room.
“Yep, just a long day.” And more disappointment.
“Alrighty. Well, I’ll be in my office if you need anything.”
I continue down the hall without responding. Stepping into “my” room, I study the gray-and-yellow curtains, coordinating with the bedding and the sitting area that is bigger than my old bedroom. I don’t fight my tears back, just let them fall down my cheeks. The only thing I need is my old life back, and that feels so far out of reach that it’s difficult to catch my breath.
14
Day three of school. It feels more like day three hundred. Usually when I’m stressed, I climb; which might explain why I’ve been standing here staring at the rock wall for the last twenty minutes. There’s still time before first period since I avoided breakfast again, heading out early. My hand grips the smooth peg. This was release before. The place to clear my thoughts. It was my solace, but the stone doesn’t feel right under my palm, so I release it as my hand limply falls to my side.
“Race you to the top,” a smooth voice sounds from behind me.
“Not everything is a game,” I say flatly, not turning to look at Asher.
“It is in my world.”
“Well, your world sucks.” I turn to leave, spinning away from him, but he grasps my arm, tugging me to face him. The momentum causes me to lose my balance so my hands end up pressed against his chest.
“You’re responsible for being a part of my world.”
“Because I was pissed off that you were talking about my dad? You knew exactly what you were doing, so don’t feed me a bullshit line that it’s my fault.”
Asher leans forward, so far forward that I feel the fury of his words against my lips. “It is your fault. All of it.” His grip loosens on my arm in the same moment he takes a step back. “Enjoy your day while it lasts … birthday girl.”
A gasp leaves my lips, earning a smirk from him before he turns, vanishing as quickly as he’d appeared.
How’d he know it’s my birthday? I hadn’t told anyone here, but somehow, he knew. That bastard always manages to catch me off guard even when I believe I have a firm hold on my emotions where he is concerned. It should get to me more, but today I don’t have the mental space to let him jack with my head more than he already has.
It’s my eighteenth birthday. The day my dad promised to skip work and to let me skip school to climb at Chappell Canyon. We’d climbed it so many times together it shouldn’t have been anything exciting, just a day to flake out on adulting … a fun, worry-free day. Little had I known every day was a worry-free day until my life with Dad was yanked out of my grasp.
Rotating, I look at the place that should bring me some joy, but it only delivers misery because even if it’s not my fault, this world is my unfortunate reality. Now comes the decision to ride it out for the school year or run back to what’s left—which isn’t much—of my previous life.
Thankfully, the school day was rather uneventful. I’d like to believe Asher just let me be, but I highly doubt it. As I make my way to the school parking lot, I dig in my bag, but can’t find my keys. Walking back into the school I check my locker. No keys to be found there either. I always put them in the zippered part of my bag, in the opposite pocket from my phone, there’s no way they could’ve fallen out. My heart sinks as I reach into the empty pocket. My phone is gone too.
My phone was there when I’d walked into shop for last period.
Wade.
Not only would Asher not drop this stupid game, he was going out of his way to make my life miserable, again, by sending in his friend. It’s highly unlikely Wade has the brain capacity to think for himself.
Throwing the doors open, the student parking lot is almost empty. Everyone had already raced away as soon as school let out. There are a few cars left, including mine and one that I’d noticed more than I wanted to, Asher’s car, that he is currently standing next to, watching me with a lazy grin.
“Need a lift?” he asks, crossing his ankle over the other as he rests against the car.
“Give me my keys and my phone now.” His casual stance heightens my wrath. This is nothing more than a stupid prank to him. I’m nothing more than a silly game to him and that pisses me off even more because I shouldn’t want to be anything to him.
“I don’t have either.” His lie is outed by the smug expression on his face. My phone and car key might not be in his physical possession at this moment, but he knows exactly where my stuff is at.
“You couldn’t give me one day … just one day where you weren’t the nastiest, vilest person that I’ve ever met in my life.”
He pushes off the car, standing in front of me. “I’m just getting started. And trust me … the more you learn about me, the more you’ll wish you’d never met me.”
“I’m already there.” I turn on my heel, stomping off as I hear him chuckling behind me. “It’s a long walk home. I’m headed in that direction if you want a lift.”
I’d travel any length to make it back to my real home, but it does
n’t exist anymore. Spinning around, I march back up to him, getting as close to his face as I can without touching him as he has done me so many times. “I’ll never be that desperate.”
Cocking his head to the side, he brushes his cheek against mine as he moves his mouth next to my ear. “You sure about that? ‘Never’ is a strong word.”
“Never … you unhinged motherfucker.” Rotating, I stomp away, preparing for my walk home. I could probably go back into the office and ask to borrow a phone, but I’m so enraged right now I just want to get out of here. And I don’t want to explain this to Candace or Nathan.
Trudging along the winding driveway of the school, a black Mercedes pulls up next to me. The window rolls down, revealing a bruised but smiling Grant.
“Everything okay?”
“Yes. I seem to have misplaced my keys.”
“Hop in. I’ll give you a ride home.” Grant nods to the passenger seat.
Looking back at the student parking lot, I see Asher still leaning against his car, watching the result of his latest scheme. This should really piss him off, and it sure beats the alternative of walking the entire way home. “Sure.”
I walk around the car as Grant reaches over, pushing the door open. Sliding into the seat, I click my seat belt before looking up to see a smirk on his face.
“He did this, right?”
“Yep.”
“And you’re hoping this will piss him off.”
“Yep.”
“Good deal.” He winks, shifting the car into drive before weaving down the driveway.
Good deal, indeed. Maybe if his schemes backfire a few times, he’ll move onto the next victim. Doubtful, but I can wish. It is my birthday, after all.
15
Candace used Tanner to lure me to the table. Sneaky but effective because here I am having a “family birthday dinner” with Nathan, Tanner, and Candace, but wholly missing the most vital part of my family.