Pretty Lies: A contemporary YA Romance (Astrid Scott Series Book 1)

by Blake Blessing

  “Astrid! What put that pout on your face? Are you a pout pout fish with a pout pout face?” Mr. Music pushed out his bottom lip to mimic my supposed expression.

  “I thought you were tired of that book?” The first day of school he talked non-stop about his toddler and how that was all he wanted to read, or I guessed all he wanted read to him, since he was two.

  “Gah, I am.” He dramatically pressed the back of his hand to his forehead and tipped his head back. “But when you come in with that pathetic face, looking like someone discovered your secret crush and plastered it all over the school… well, the pout pout fish comes to mind. Now stop spreading the dreary wearies all over the place.”

  His inane rambling pulled a chuckle from my chest as I skirted around him.

  “Who’s talking about secret crushes? I love a good dish.”

  Ryan, a very flamboyant boy, strutted into the room.

  “Astrid. We were discussing her secret crushes.” Mr. Music hopped up onto his desk.

  “Oh really.” Ryan passed by his usual table and took a seat across from me. “You’re new here. I was meaning to come talk to you before, you know give you the SRHS welcome. You looked prickly, so I was waiting for a good opportunity. Talk of secret crushes, bam. Here’s my opportunity.” He grinned, flashing the whitest teeth I’d ever seen.

  “There are no secret crushes.” I smirked and tucked a chunk of hair behind my ear. Ryan was the first person to actually talk to me since the first day of school. I wasn’t about to screw this up by scaring him away with a flippant comment.

  It was now Thursday. Almost four days of not speaking to another human at school, outside of answering attendance. Or the welcoming committee this morning, but that didn’t count of my list of actual human encounters.

  Part of me wanted to be the prickly bitch he thought I was. The other part of me, the lonely part, was excited to have a conversation.

  “Okay, sure. You haven’t had time to properly scope out the meat selection. I can help you with that.” He nodded his head succinctly.

  I kind of loved his personality already. I could tell he was going to bring lots of laughs and frustration. At least, the fun kind of frustration only your friends could give you.

  I laughed. “Not really in the market for any kind of meat right now.”

  “Tacos? There’s a fine selection of fish here too, girl.” Ryan shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal to him either way.

  “Uh… no. I definitely prefer the meat, but I’m new and boyfriends aren’t something I need to be focusing on.” Not to mention my parents would kill me if I told them I had a girl crush. I could already feel their hypothetical disappointment and condemnation.

  He squinted at me. “You’re one of those girls? Everybody needs love. You just leave it up to Ryan and I’ll get you sorted right out. What’s your type?”

  “I don’t have a type. And really. This is my senior year. What I need to be focused on is getting a plan together after graduation.”

  Mr. Music clapped his hands, drawing my attention to the front of the room. “All right, how many of you crazy kids have a college plan?”

  What a coincidence. Exactly what I planned to get into with Ryan.

  A few kids raised their hands, but not many. I guess I wasn’t the only slacker in the place.

  “That’s sad. Aren’t most of you all juniors and seniors?”

  There were a few grumbles and more raised hands throughout the room. I hadn’t done either, instead just listened as a silent participant.

  Mr. Music jumped down. “Okay, that’s a discussion for another day. Today, I have news. I just hung up with my contact at the university and they have a new scholarship available. One of their alumni has made it big and is generously offering this opportunity. So, here’s the deal. There’s going to be a competition showcasing top talent. Each school in the state is allowed to send two portfolios, meaning winners. The school and benefactor will choose one talented winner to receive a full ride.” He paused, letting that sink in.

  I straighten in my chair and paid more attention. A full ride.

  “Mr. Music, does that include the dorm and food?” There was probably a better way to ask that, but my mind was spinning with ideas.

  He pointed a charcoal stained finger toward my face. “Yes! It covers everything one hundred percent. Even with a living stipend. The stipulation is that you maintain a B grade average, and any work on display would be at the benefactor’s gallery.”

  “The guy paying for the scholarship owns a gallery?” A squeaky girl across the room piped in.

  “Woman. Way to play into the male dominated society, Jess.”

  The conversation faded to the background as my mind wandered. Hope and excitement warred in my chest as I mentally picked over his words, looking for anything that would ban me from entering. It sounded like anyone with an interest in art was welcome to enter.

  This could be the flipping chance I’d been waiting for. That shiny delicious carrot dangled in my face, leading me down a golden path to freedom. I only needed to out create pretty much everyone in the entire school, and then somehow take the winning spot.

  With that thought, my good mood deflated. I could barely shade an apple properly. The whole reason for taking art was because I loved it, not because I was awesome at it. My sketchbook was sitting on the corner of the table, so I pulled it closer, flipping through some of my previous work.

  A drawing of a mannequin that was decidedly lopsided. The cliché fruit bowl with defined pencil shading that looked like a four-year-old couldn’t stay inside the lines. Next was a perspective drawing that was decent, but I used a ruler and a heavy-duty eraser to clean it up. Something told me this wasn’t the quality work they were looking for.

  Ryan nudged my foot, and when I glanced up, he pushed the corners of his lips into a smile. I shook my head, not feeling indulgent of his friendly personality anymore. His eyes narrowed, bouncing back and forth between my own before he rolled his and turned back to Mr. Music.

  The rest of the day passed in a haze of assignments and lectures. For the most part, I had a fairly decent workload. Economics, honors English, and biology II were my main core classes. Then with art, Strength I–which was a fancy name for basic gym–and a free period, it balanced out nicely.

  By the time I got home, I was in desperate need of a nap and a good look at my life choices. My backpack hit the ground as I slipped my shoes off and slid them under the bench in the mudroom.

  Sharp clicking of heels moved closer and I braced myself for conversation.

  “There you are. Your father’s bringing over a few work associates for dinner. I laid a dress out for you, with some accessories. Be back downstairs in an hour.” Mother finished clipping in her earrings and walked away.

  My day was great. We had a pep rally and it was amazeballs. There’s a scholarship I want to apply for, but I don’t think I can. All the things I would say to a nurturing mother passed through my head. I heaved a weighted sigh, we would never have that kind of relationship. We never had.

  The next hour seemed like only minutes. Ready for the dinner, I was dressed like the perfect little Stepford daughter, complete with fake pearl earrings and matching necklace. I didn’t want to go down, I’d much rather stay in my room. Weak light from the sunset stretched past my window, highlighting the cute bay window seat. It was time to head downstairs, but I prolonged it by walking to my window.

  There was a great view of the street from here. The little girl was there, riding her bike in circles right in the center of the road. It was a pretty peaceful street with little traffic. Only one car passed by, but it slowed until it stopped completely, right in front of our mailbox. The doors didn’t open, and it was dark enough that I couldn’t see who was inside.

  Damn, it was time to go down. If I wasn’t there and part of the greeting committee, I’d lose the few privileges I had.

  The Mary Jane pumps my mother left out for me thumped on each s
tair. My parents were already in the small foyer when I reached the bottom of the steps. Mother was straightening her skirt, while Dad was smoothing his tie.

  A weird feeling coasted down my arms, my fingers curling into loose fists. Tonight was different from the other nights. Whoever was outside must be a big deal for my dad. Maybe some elder of the church, or someone with deep pockets. There was no telling really.

  The doorbell rang and it was the most ridiculous thing I’d ever experienced. Our front door had a huge frosted pane of glass right in the center. They might not have been able to see us clearly, but these people had to see our silhouettes standing right here. I could see them and our porch light wasn’t even on.

  Dad opened the door with a jolly smile, arms out in a welcoming gesture.

  “Stan. Barb. It’s nice you both could come. Dinner’s about ready, I think you’ll really love Trina’s cooking.”

  Not only was he acting like Mr. Cleaver, I suddenly felt like I was in the Twilight Zone. A distinguished older man stepped through in a sleek suit, followed by a Botox addicted woman with raven black hair. Dyed, for sure, based on her fair complexion and the almost white roots poking through.

  It was who followed behind them that flipped everything sideways. Ragnar, in gray slacks and a white button-down shirt appeared and the moment we made eye contact, I scowled. Then there was curly.

  Maybe I was being an angsty teen, but I felt like the world was getting back at me for some horrible deed I unknowingly committed.

  Curly snickered when he noticed me standing here. It was very clear they both recognized me.

  Fuck them.

  A sharp pinch to my side startled the grumpy look right off my face. Mom had caught the looks between us and was apparently not happy.

  “We’re excited, and thank you again for inviting us over.” The man shook hands with Dad and there was a slight awkward pause.

  “This is my wife, Trina, and my daughter Astrid. She just started at Silver Ranch High.”

  Attention swung to me and I tried really, really hard not to roll my eyes at the fake small talk that no one really cared about. The last thing these strangers would find interesting would be the high school I was enrolled in.

  Now the two guys, they cared—but only because I hadn’t jumped on the opportunity to get some. Or give them some, however they wanted to look at it. It wouldn’t surprise me if girls tossed themselves at their feet for a chance to jump on their dicks. That kind of attention inflated egos until they couldn’t tell a girl who wanted them, from a girl who didn’t. Well, this girl definitely doesn’t want any of what they’re offering.

  The dad and mom—because I assumed this was a family unit—shook our hands and gushed about how great it was to finally meet us. And by finally, they meant they waited a few weeks. School had only been in for one week and we got here shortly before that.

  “Stan, and this is Barb,” Stan placed a hand on Barb’s back as she shuffled forward. “And this here is our son Rhys, and my nephew, Trey.”

  Rhys, the Viking from school, pressed his lips together in a tight smile and extended his hand to my father, then mother, finally coming to me. His hand was calloused, his grip firm.

  Up close, he was a fine specimen with blue gray eyes framed by thick brown lashes. His cheekbones were chiseled like some kind of Greek god. My heart pounded under his gaze.

  “Nice to meet you,” His voice was smooth and cultured. Way more than I had expected of a high schooler.

  Ah, we were pretending we hadn’t met that morning. I could do that.

  “Nice to meet you, too.”

  I relaxed when he turned away and went to his dad’s side. My gaze kept drawing back to him, studying him as he found something very interesting in the corner of the room. Couldn’t be dust bunnies. Mother Dearest would never stand for that.

  Trey followed the line of handshakes and when he got to me, hatred flashed in his eyes.

  It was safe to say, I hadn’t made a fan in him. But to be fair, he hadn’t won any brownie points either. I had a feeling the only reason he hated anyone was because they refused to fall in line with what he wanted. Typical rich kid.

  “A pleasure,” Trey lifted my hand to his mouth, kissing my knuckles.

  Disgust coated my skin and I tugged my hand. He had a death grip on my fingers, and short of making a scene, I couldn’t do anything about it.

  “Likewise,” I snarked.

  Luckily, the parentals were already chatting and moving toward the living room.

  Our house was much bigger than the house we came from in Tennessee. That house was cute but modest. It was provided by the church, which hadn’t had a lot of money. Dad’s new church has much more affluent members in the congregation. Hence, this place that was at least double the size. Although, we probably had one of the smallest houses in the neighborhood.

  “Astrid, why don’t you come help me in the kitchen and then you can help set the table?” My mother smiled perfectly.

  “Yes, ma’am,” I was happy to escape what was going to be a bad night for even a few minutes.

  As soon as I was in the kitchen, Mom gripped my arm and yanked me into her. Fine wrinkles fanning her eyes became more prominent as she squinted at me.

  “Listen here, I don’t know if you know those boys from school or not, but tonight, they are your best friends.” She emphasized best through smiling, clenched teeth. It was like she was afraid someone would walk in so she had to keep smiling no matter what.

  “You’re hurting me,” I whispered. “Who are these people? They don’t look like Dad’s normal church associates.” Dad’s normal dinner guests were old, pudgy men who wore ill fitting clothes and make lame Bible jokes.

  Like, how long did Cain hate his brother? As long as he was Abel. They would laugh harder than anyone else, even Dad.

  “It doesn’t matter who they are. What is important is you don’t screw this up.” Her breath fanned over my cheek as she gave me another shake.

  “Got it,” I pulled out of her hold and went directly to the cabinet, pulling out the nice dishes. If this evening was so important, she would want nothing but the best on display.

  Dinner was tense and awkward. At least for me. While the adults conversed about church and local politics, Rhys and Trey both stared at me while they ate.

  Mother kicked me two times under the table, so I made half-assed attempts at conversation.

  “So, I saw you both during the pep rally. That was some dance.” I dabbed my mouth with the corner of my napkin to hide my smirk.

  Heavy blond brows slammed down. “Coach makes us do that. We’re a club so the more support we have the better chance we have of getting better gear. Admissions is a big driver for the clubs.”

  “Where did you all learn those dance moves?” See, I could be nice when I had to.

  Rhys’ eyes briefly flicked to his dad, “Dad pays for a choreographer to come in and teach us the routine.”

  Caddy corner to me, Trey adopted the sleaziest car salesman smile I’d ever seen. Something about him just didn’t give me good vibes. I directed my attention back to Rhys and pretended he wasn’t there. If I didn’t acknowledge him, maybe he would disappear in a poof of smoke.

  “That’s cool. I never learned how to dance. I prefer to stay in the background.” Truth, I hated being in front of people. I locked up and shut down. Politician, news anchor, WWE wrestler, all jobs I could mark off my potential future plan.

  Silence fell over the kiddy side of the table after that. The weight of Rhys’ stare sent tingles down the back of the neck, but I refused to acknowledge him. The green beans were much more interesting, especially after I used my fork to cut them all down the seams.

  After dinner, the adults shuffled to the living room and us kids went to the basement.

  This was new. Probably because none of the previous business associates had kids. I was usually excused to go to my room after dinner, rather than entertaining two strange boys by myself. Over
the last month or so, my already modest mother had declared war on sexuality. My father must be the driver of this particular add to the evening because Mother would have never agreed to it.

  Once we were downstairs with the door shut, I fiddled with the TV, putting Avatar on to play. With my back to the guys, I said, “Listen, I don’t want either of you here anymore than you want to be here. We’ll watch this movie from very far ends of the couch, and when it’s time for you to go home, we’ll act like we had a great time. Capiche?”

  I turned around once the intro started playing. Rhys nodded and took up one corner, sprawling out with a frown. Trey sneered but took a spot next to Rhys.

  I blew out a breath and sat on the other end. Thank God we had a sectional. It made it easy to be far, far way.

  The whole event was honestly a bit anticlimactic. With the way Trey showed his dickness in the hallway, I would have thought he’d have tried to make the night hell. Not that I was complaining. I totally wasn’t. Anytime I could have less drama in my immediate life, the better.

  Photographing other people’s drama? Now that I loved.

  Thirty minutes into the movie, Mother called down to collect the boys. I allowed them to go first like a good little host, smiled politely at the door and flipped them off in my head as soon as they were gone.

  Both of my parents walked away, so I too escaped upstairs to the comfort of my new bedroom. It was bigger, and draftier, but I’d already put a mark on it with my decorations. In this new town, and new house, it was my sanctuary.

  Stace had perfect timing because as soon as I shut the door, my cell rang.

  With a small smile, I greeted, “What’s up, beyotch?”

  “Nothing homie. Missing your face.” Her voice was sullen. I bet if I could see her, her lower lip would be sticking out past her nose.

  “I’m missing you too. Anything crazy happen? You’ve been in school at least two weeks so I know you have the latest details.” I curled up in my bay window watching the outside.