by S. K. Rose
I roll my eyes but nod, not sure what to do or say. I don’t think anyone has ever attempted to talk to me for this long, especially after being blatantly disregarded. Not for the first time, I wonder who the hell this odd girl is.
She sits back in her seat and seems to relax a bit. “I knew it. Man, I used to watch that show when I was little all the time. Seriously, a perfect nickname for me, I can’t believe I never thought of it before.” She exaggerates the vowels in some of her words when she talks. Believe sounds like “buh-leeeve.” I’m gonna need her to simmer this shit down before I start pulling my hair out in clumps. “So, what did you do this weekend?” she asks, still smiling and acting like this is a completely normal everyday conversation for us to be having.
I finally snap out of it and turn my body to face her head-on.
Enough is enough.
“Listen up, Blossom. First off, I can guaran-fuckin’-tee you the nickname was not intended as a compliment as you mistakenly seem to believe. Secondly, why the hell are you talking to me again? I thought I made myself crystal-clear. Ask anyone at this school and they will have some fucked-up story about how horrible I am, and I promise that will be enough to give you a clear picture of me. Can’t you just take a hint? Gah! Just—why me, goddammit?”
My anger runs out of steam half way through my rant, ending with a genuine question. I sound weak, like I actually care, and I hate it. But I have to know. Why the hell is she being so persistent?
She looks me square in the eyes and gives me a small, stubborn smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes. For a minute she isn’t her bubbly self and I feel a little bad for being harsh.
Wait, I feel bad about stuff now?!
“You just looked like you needed a friend.” She states it simply with a shrug as if her motives are crystal clear. There’s not a trace of sarcasm or mockery in her voice, and all the anger whooshes out of me in a long exhale.
For some insane reason I can’t find it in myself to lash out or come up with a new plan to scare her off like I've done countless times before. This bubbly annoying girl has quickly gotten under my skin, and I hate to admit that it isn’t horrible to have someone who actually wants to talk to me. She didn’t look at me and instantly decide I was worthless, trash, or someone to fear. Her smile is almost infectious and I find myself liking how she doesn’t shrink back at my biting responses.
And, goddammit, if those eyes don’t remind me of him, maybe that’s the real reason.
I don’t ask for clarification as to how I “look like I need a friend” because I know I’m constantly surrounded a giant circle of space where friends would normally be. Instead, I imitate her posture and sit back into my seat, and try to relax. The second bell rings, signaling the start of class, and I slowly begin getting my notebook and pencil out. After I jot down a few equations, I turn to look at her.
“Shopping,” I say flatly.
“Huh?”
“You asked me what I did this weekend, I went grocery shopping.”
Also, something vital has shaken loose in my brain, apparently, because I’m talking to you.
She whips her head to look at me, this time the grin on her face lights up her green eyes. “Oh, okay, yeah, sorry. To be honest, I was pretty certain you weren’t going to talk to me.” She bubbles and seems genuinely happy.
The rest of the hour I hardly pay attention in class as Mary-Elizabeth whispers her life story to me and miraculously doesn’t get caught by Mrs. Fontaine. Which is honestly a miracle. I mean, the girl is fucking loud, and it almost seems to physically cause her pain to lower her voice. I didn’t talk much, mostly just pretended I wasn’t hanging on to her every word.
Within the hour I learned that she just moved back from Chicago with her family and had lived here in Alder Grove when she was younger. Her brother is a giant nerd and her parents are overly affectionate with one another, always kissing and cuddling which is “utterly gross and embarrassing”, although I thought it sounded kind of nice. She loves reading and watching anything with mushy romances in it. I found out that she’s exactly five feet and a fourth of an inch tall. Apparently, that additional fourth of an inch is extremely vital when describing her height and under no circumstance is to be left out. Basically, she’s a shrimp, but I sensed a little touchiness on the issue and decided to let it slide.
By the end of class, I knew way too much about Beth and feared that because I let the pink genie out of the bottle, I would never be able to shove her back in.
Chapter 15
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Over the next couple of weeks, I began to violate my third rule as Beth and I formed something suspiciously resembling a friendship. I discovered we not only had Trig, but also Study Hall and Art together. I still didn’t offer up very much information about myself and was quiet in general, but she didn’t seem to mind and never pushed me to open up. It really didn’t hurt that she talked more than she breathed, more than making up for my silence.
By the end of the month, we were inseparable. We ate lunch together every day and hung out after school. Sometimes we wouldn’t do anything but sit side by side and read; albeit, we would read entirely opposite genres. Her romantic comedies would make her snort with laughter whereas my library books inclined to be a little on the darker side.
The last Thursday of the month, we sat under a large tree by the track and read together long after school ended. She peeked over and read the title of my book out loud.
“Misery, by Stephen King?” she questioned with her book still open in her hands. I tried to ignore her and focus on reading, but she wouldn't stop staring at me with those giant green eyes. I sighed, knowing she would eventually get her way, stubborn twat. I shot an eyebrow up and nodded for her to get on with the point of her rhetorical question.
“I bet you fifty bucks that’s all that book would cause me if I read it. Misery.” She snickered, looking utterly pleased with her unexceptional joke. Distracted from laughing at her own joke, I shot my hand out and knocked her book flying out of her hands. It landed with a thump on the dirt track a couple feet away. She threw back her head and laughed even harder before going to retrieve it. I placed my book up strategically over my face so she couldn’t see the huge grin betraying my face as I struggled not to laugh.
Book in hand, she flopped back down beside me and looked over, face flushed. “Asshole,” she said in a mischievous voice.
Looking over in shock, I found her grinning from ear-to-ear. I think it was the first time I’d heard her swear.
“Bitch,” I threw back, unable to stop myself from reflecting her smile as I returned to reading with a shake of my head.
Damn if this cheeky girl hadn’t started to grow on me.
ʢ ʢ ʢ
The next day I found that I was a little sad the week was over, something that excruciating torture couldn’t get me to admit out loud. Over the weekend it would just be me, and for the first time, it seemed kind of lonely.
After taking our seats in class, we pull out the color-blending notebooks we’d been working on the day before. Ms. Lily, our hippie art teacher, is running late as usual. Across the room, I notice Lilah Crother, AKA Queen Bitch, seems to have set her sights on us. She runs the school with an iron fist of body-shaming and dirty gossip. Sadly, the nasty bitch is gorgeous. Why can’t people be as ugly on the outside as they are on the inside?
Lilah has a minion sitting on each side of her, and a few guys nearby trying to catch a glimpse of the thong slightly peeking out from the top of her low-riding Levi’s. Her long, blonde hair is always in perfect curls that frame her face and cascade down her back. She has bright hazel eyes, high cheekbones, flawless makeup, perfectly manicured nails, and family money to back up her trendy slut fashion sense.
Queen Bitch whispers something to both of her minions. I think their names are Lacy and Tanisha, but I could be wrong, considering they change as often as her nail color. I tense up as she begins making her way over to us. With time,
Lilah learned it was in her best interest to leave me alone. Well, time and the fact that I once hacked her PE locker open and poured green dye into her shampoo. Her platinum blonde hair took beautifully to the dye. She couldn’t get that neon-green dye completely out of her hair for a week. It was fucking epic.
Beth, on the other hand, is what we call fresh meat to someone like Lilah.
She stops in front of Beth’s desk and gives her a sickeningly sweet smile.
“You must be the new girl. I wanted to properly introduce myself.” Her perfectly manicured fingers twirl around a stray piece of blonde hair.
“Holy shitballs, Batman, the Queen Bitch graces us with her presence!” I howl before proceeding to mock her by drawing my hand over my chest and giving a little bow. She slowly moves her eyes to look at me, clearly irritated that I interrupted her life-altering speech.
“I’m not talking to you, Reaper. And ugh, could you be any more vulgar?” She turns up her nose and makes a face of disgust at me, then positions her body to face Beth.
As if that’s going to stop me.
Queen Bitch doesn't want to talk to me, fucking shit! I think I just might die of heartbreak. I audibly snigger at my own snide joke.
She ignores the unladylike noise that comes from my throat and continues with her attempt to hook her claws into Beth, who looks surprisingly amused. Lilah’s smile is once again plastered across her face as she’s back to her ‘sweet as pie’ mode.
Over the years, I’ve learned that robot bitch Barbie has several different functions. There is gossip mode, catty mode (not to be confused with petty mode), slut mode, oh—can’t forget her annoyed mode. That’s one of my favorite functions to activate.
“My name is Lilah Crother—yes of Crother Styles—and you must be Mary-Elizabeth. I just had to come over and tell you that I simply adore your Kors purse and Jimmy Choos. I'll admit, the girls and I have been watching you over the past week, and I must say, you have a fantastic sense of style. If you know anything about my family’s brand, I’m sure you know I don’t give that compliment out lightly. So, we thought you might want to join me and the girls for lunch today.” She flicks her eyes over to me again, this time attempting to make a point. “Not many are extended this invitation, I assure you.”
She leans a little closer to Beth and lowers her voice.
“I have the ability to snap my fingers and make you popular. You would have the best senior year you could possibly imagine, maybe join the cheer squad—have hotties drooling after you left and right. Of course, you would have to stop hanging out with trashy skanks.”
I clutch obnoxiously at my chest and pretend to be in agony over her words. “You wound me, my Queen,” I moan as I fight off the smile that’s bursting to take over my face.
She rolls her eyes at my remark and crosses her arms over her tits, returning her attention to Beth. I’m still trying to figure out her angle; either she’s tired of her minions and needs a new one to tote around, or she sees a way to get back at me. Queen B may or may not also still be pretty pissed about the time the boy she crushed on (you remember Scott?) tried to give me a birthday gift freshman year.
Yeah, how dare I.
Beth gives her a big smile in return and a slight nod. “That is very kind of you to offer, and in any other circumstance I would probably accept.” I see Lilah’s smirk threaten to falter for a split second.
“But—” She props her chin up on her palm and lowers her voice, well sort of, not really because the entire class can still hear her and they are all definitely listening. I have mentioned she’s terrible at whispering, right?
“I heard you’ve opened your legs to half the boys at this school, and the likelihood of you not having crabs is like, slim to none.” She holds her pointer finger and thumb close together. “And my mamma always taught me to steer clear of cheats, liars, and sluts, and you, dear, seem to fit into all three categories.” She flashes Lilah a pout that oozes fake pity and then dismisses her with a flick of the wrist as she waves off Lilah Crother—all while being casual as fuck. The entire class erupts into laughter, a few trying to hide their faces, not wanting to endure the wrath of the queen. The minions sit there looking stricken, probably figuring they will somehow get blamed.
I look over at Blossom and once more wonder—who the fuck is this ballsy girl?
I turn my gaze quickly to Lilah and see her face flushed red from embarrassment, and if looks could kill, well, Beth and I would be chopped up into little pieces and scattered all over the classroom.
Ms. Lily barges into the classroom muttering her apologies for being late and telling everyone to settle down.
Lilah doesn't move right away, she’s recovering slowly from the shock of being so blatantly insulted. Pressing her palms down on Beth’s desk, she leans down to look us both in the eye and hisses her threat, “You bitches will regret this.” She flips away, her blonde curls flying through the air as she stomps back to her seat.
Looks like I’ve managed to wiggle my way right back onto her radar.
Beth begins to work on her soft brush strokes, dipping into the pink paint and completely ignoring the daggers that Lilah shoots in our direction. I can’t help but stare at Beth with something like pride. Holy fuck, that was impressive. Most girls just ignore Lilah or do anything they can to get her to accept them.
This sweet, bubbly girl calmly destroyed and embarrassed the most popular girl in school with just a few words and acts completely unaffected by it.
Fucking hell, Blossom is kind of a badass. Who woulda guessed?
“Blossom?” I whisper over to her.
“Hmm?” She turns her head just enough to let me know she’s listening.
“Who the fuck is Jimmy Choo?”
Beth’s eyes widen as she dissolves into a fit of shrieking laughter, grabbing her sides while tears start to spill down her face.
Basically, she’s lost her goddamn shit.
Still slightly confused about the “Jimmy” thing, I can’t fight how contagious her laugh is, and with the Lilah scene fresh and replaying in my mind, I can’t stop myself from joining in.
Ms. Lily starts screaming at us to quiet down, which, frankly, only makes it worse. So—we get kicked out of class.
Sitting outside in the hallway, we poorly attempt to stifle our laughter. However, every time our gazes meet, it starts right back up.
11:25 A.M. was the exact moment that Beth, AKA Blossom, became my best, and only friend as we wiped away tears in the school hallway.
My third rule was demolished.
In this moment, a few small fragments of my shattered heart began to knit together.
Chapter 16
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It’s too early, but the warm cup of coffee Beth brought me has already started to perk me up. I sip on it as I wait for her and think back on our strange friendship. It’s only been a month since we became friends, and already it feels as if so much has changed. I’ve even smiled and laughed once or twice. Unheard of.
It’s been so long since I’ve had anything to be remotely happy about that it feels unnatural. I keep reminding myself that it could end at any time, because that’s just how life in Tessa land works. It gives me something good, then rips it away. Over and over again.
But this time I’ll be prepared. Still, doesn’t hurt to enjoy it while it lasts.
Apparently, Beth’s brother starts school today, he’s also in his senior year but took an extra month to get settled in. I smile, imagining a male version of Blossom, loud and stubborn.
Oh, Jesus, what if he has a sick obsession with pink, too?
“Kay, I turned it in. Now seriously, Tessa, did you see my new shoes? Oh-em-gee, look at how pink and sparkly they are! I swear, I’m in love!” Beth collapses against her locker, a hand dramatically goes to her forehead as if she’s swooning.
She’d make a pretty good actress the damn drama queen.
I look down at her shoes and back up to her. “Very sparkly,
” I state and proceed to rearrange my messy locker, trying to find my stupid English journal.
Blossom looks pointedly at me and grunts her disapproval. “That’s it? Very sparkly? Jesus, I swear you are like talking to a brick wall sometimes. Half the time I get one-word responses, and the other half of the time—when you finally do grace me with conversation—swear words vomit out of you like they’re going out of style.” She huffs at me, exacerbated, and throws her hands up as if to say, “what can I do?”
A corner of my mouth turns up as I try not to smile at her theatrics and veracious description of me. Beth finishes organizing her perfect locker and slams it shut. Looking past me, she sees something in the distance and her eyes light up. Jumping up and down she starts to wave someone over.
“All right, be nice to my brother and try not to run your foul mouth around him, he’s actually a nice and decent human being. Unlike you.” She snickers as I scowl at her.
“Hey, sis. Ah, I finally get to meet this friend you’ve been talking about nonstop, huh?” His voice is warm and the complete opposite of Beth’s. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Beth punch him in the shoulder and hear his chuckle in response. I finish closing my locker and turn to meet the infamously sweet brother, Drew.
However, standing next to me is not Beth’s brother; it’s the boy my father murdered.
The world comes crashing down around me as colors explode and shatter before my eyes. My vision goes fuzzy and suddenly I’m back home, back to that day, as if the floodgates have opened to let out everything I've tried to keep locked up over the past year.