by Amy Sparling
I grin and wait for his reaction. “It’s brilliant, right?”
His lips slide to the side of his mouth. “I dig the concept,” he says, tapping on my paper. “But a poster can be removed and thrown away in two seconds. Kennedy attacked us virtually and it went viral, so to speak.”
I shrug. “Okay, so we’ll post it online?”
Ethan’s eyes glimmer with an excitement I haven’t seen in years. “No. We’ll do one better. We’ll make it into a T-shirt.”
In Ethan’s room, he powers up his computer and shows me the glass thing called a graphics tablet that he uses to draw his images. It’s a cool device that lets you draw on the glass with a stylus and the image appears on the computer. I keep getting little giddy ripples of excitement as we work. Kennedy will be so pissed. This might make me kind of a bad person, but I don’t care. She messed with me, and she messed with Ethan. It’s time she’s spoon fed a bottle of her own damn medicine.
I sit on the bed, watching Ethan work his graphic design magic. He sketches out my idea, making it look professional and hip because he’s insanely more talented than I am. Even his normally chicken scratch handwriting becomes a cutesy font on the screen. In under thirty minutes, he’s turned my rough draft sketches into a professional looking T-shirt design.
“I wonder if anyone would actually buy this,” I say, leaning on my hands. “I mean, I’m buying one for sure, but that’s because it’s my awesome idea. I think I’ll sleep in it every night.”
“I like those satin pajamas a lot better,” he says. My thoughts get all tripped up when he flashes me a wink. “But you’d be surprised. People buy all kinds of stuff.” He adds a finishing touch to the title of the image and then leans back to admire his work. “Besides, since we took her name off the original design and changed it to say ‘human girl’, this shirt kind of works for anyone. People all over the country could order one to represent the mega bitch in their lives.”
“Awesome. I wish selling cupcakes were as easy as uploading them online,” I say with a frown.
Ethan’s brow creases and I can tell he’s thinking of something. “Well you need a website for starters. Then people can order them online and you can bake them. I’m telling you, the internet is the key to being successful in business these days.”
I shake my head. “I can’t get a website until I have my own kitchen. Besides, there’s all kinds of health code regulations for business kitchens. I can’t do that out of your house, or even my own apartment after college.” I sink my face in my hands, staring at the floor. It’s so easy to get caught up in the idea of working for yourself, starting a bakery and making people’s confectionary dreams come true, one vanilla cupcake with buttercream frosting at a time. But in reality, that’s going to be even harder than surviving a tornado attack while sitting next to your mortal enemy.
“Ella, no frowning,” Ethan says. He rolls his desk chair across the floor and wraps me in a hug. “We can have a career crisis freak out after we graduate. Right now let’s bask in the glory of ruining Kennedy Price. Would you like to click the final button?”
He motions to his computer, where the mouse hand hovers over the button that says List Item for Sale. I only feel a little bit like a terrible person as I reach over and click the button, making the shirt go live for purchase on Ethan’s web store. I mean, we did leave her name out of it, after all.
For all anyone knows, this is just a generic T-shirt for generic bitches.
“Hey, you know you’ll be keeping any money this earns, right?” Ethan nudges me with his knee.
“What? No, it’s your drawing.”
“But it’s your idea. The shirts earn about five bucks each, so any sales are yours.” His eyes light up. “Maybe you’ll get enough money to buy your prom dress.”
I snort out a laugh. “That would be the ultimate irony . . . ugh, I kind of feel bad about this.”
He puts the graphics tablet back into its protective case and joins me on his bed. “She told everyone my thing is small. She deserves payback.”
I nod. “And she called me a slut-nado. This is deserved. I just feel a little bad for stooping to her level.”
Ethan’s phone dings. “You just sold your first shirt, Ella Lockhart.” His eyes sparkle with mischief. “Do you still feel bad?”
I take the phone and look at the notification email. “How’d they see it that fast?”
“All new designs are posted to all of my social media sites, remember?”
I bite my lower lip. His phone dings two more times while it’s still in my hand. Two more shirt sales. I can almost imagine Kennedy’s fury when she sees the new shirt design. Maybe it’ll finally be the tipping point to make her realize what a selfishly rude person she is. Maybe it’ll change her life and make her access the part of her brain that isn’t a belittling bully. Or, even more likely, it’ll just fuel the war that’s started between us, giving her more motivation to unleash all of the ammo in her arsenal. Does she have more embarrassing texts from Ethan to share with the world? Or—god forbid—pictures?
There are too many unknowns in the world of combat with Kennedy Price. The only thing I know for sure is that our new T-shirt demonstrates exactly the kind of person our enemy is at heart. I glance back at Ethan’s computer screen, admiring the stock photo of our design on a navy blue T-shirt. My cupcake baking days might be on hiatus, but that doesn’t mean I have to stop inventing recipes.
The Crazy Ex-Girlfriend Recipe
Ingredients needed:
1 heaping cup selfish bitch
5 cups jealousy
2¾ cup narcissism
17 years spoiled (preferably rotten)
1 bottle blonde hair die
2 mediocre boobs in desperate need of a push-up bra
A pinch of social media
1 human girl
Directions: Mix ingredients with human girl. Add a heavy dose of self-importance and entitlement before serving to your enemies.
Chapter 25
The recipe for a Crazy Ex-girlfriend sells fifty more shirts overnight. By Monday, one hundred and fifteen people have bought one, and Ella has already made a list of all the baking supplies she’ll buy with her earnings. She acts like she doesn’t want to go to prom but I’ve seen her admiring the photo of her prom dress on more than one occasion. It leaves me stuck in the middle of wanting to drag her out to prom just so she can wear the dress and also wanting to blow it off because I don’t really want to go
I kiss her goodbye before first period and watch her turn the corner to her history class. “Hey, April,” I call out, jogging to catch up with her and Toby.
“What’s up?” she asks.
“Dude,” I say to Toby, pointing at his shirt. “Did you pay for rush shipping?”
He nods casually. “I have to support my boy, after all. I wanted to wear it before everyone else gets theirs.”
I bump my knuckles to his. “Nice.”
“These shirts are way better than Ella’s poster idea,” April says, nodding to Toby’s shirt. “I’ve already heard people saying they’re going to buy one. Seems like the whole school is on your side after her little social media rant.”
We pass some girls from student council hanging up prom posters in the wall. “Hey, so, the reason I wanted to talk to you is about prom.”
April lifts an eyebrow. “Did Ella finally admit that she actually wants to go?”
I shrug instead of giving her a real answer. “Do know where that pink dress is sold? The one she has a picture of?”
“Yeah, it’s at the Galleria. A store called Dress Fantasy.”
“You gonna wear a dress to prom, Poe?” Toby says.
I wiggle my eyebrows at him. “You wish.”
By seventh period, Ella’s shirt has been ordered fifty more times. It’s now ranked as my most popular shirt on my storefront and I almost want to turn off email notifications because my phone is blowing up nonstop in class.
I haven’t seen Kennedy a
ll day, and by Wednesday when most people’s shirt orders come in, she’s been a complete ghost. Maybe she learned her lesson about messing with us and decided to keep her distance. Probably not, but, a guy can hope.
The school hallways are a sea of navy blue shirts. I get high-fived several times and Ella gets quite a few impressed looks as we make our way to lunch.
“Okay, as soon as I see a teacher wearing one of these shirts, I’m gonna lose my mind,” Ella says, taking a place behind me in the lunch line. “I can’t believe this has worked out so well. I almost feel evil.”
I grab a tray and fill it with a slice of pizza, a soda, and some cheese fries. “Me too, but as soon as those thoughts cross my mind, I just remember what she posted about me online and suddenly, I’m okay with it.”
She lets her head lean against my arm for a second, her adorable little consoling gesture. “Don’t worry, it’ll be over soon. I can’t wait to be out of this sham they call a high school education.”
She takes an order of cheese fries and grabs the squirt bottle of ranch, drowning the things in the stuff.
I go to pay for our food and she holds out her hand to stop me. “I got mine today.”
“I don’t mind buying your food.”
Ella gives me a pointed look. “Dad gave me some cash today, so I’m good.”
I’m not about to argue with her in front of the lunch lady so I pay for my food and wait while she pays for hers. It’s funny how a few weeks ago I was so annoyed when Kennedy would expect me to buy everything for her. Now I have a girlfriend who doesn’t need my help and all I want to do is shower her with all the things she wants.
Like that prom dress.
It’s raining outside so we’re forced to sit in the cafeteria for the first time since we’ve been a couple. “Where to?” Ella asks, looking around the half-filled cafeteria.
Toby appears behind us, his tray filled with three hot dogs and pizza. “The regular table, or somewhere else?”
I shrug. “We could sit with the guys, I guess.”
Toby scowls. “Yeah, but now we both have beautiful girls to spend our time with. That table is a freaking sausage fest that only talks about football.”
“Touché,” April says, holding up a hand with bright red nails.
“Oh my god.” Ella pretends to gag herself with her finger, her food tray balanced in the other hand. “Who even are you?”
April laughs and glances back at Toby. Something passes between them and I think it’s pretty cool that they seem to like each other so much for being a random match. All I had done was pick the nicest guy from my group of friends and introduce them and now they’re a thing.
We choose a table at the far right of the cafeteria, and although no one says it, I know this spot was chosen by the four of us collectively because it’s as far away from Kennedy’s table of cheerleaders as you can get.
I don’t see her though, not that I’m looking. I’m pretty sure she hasn’t been to school all week. That, or she’s really good at avoiding me. Too bad she didn’t bring out those evasive skills the day after we broke up. Maybe then this whole mess could have been avoided.
My knee touches Ella’s under the lunch table. She steals some of my fries even though she has her own so I steal a drink of her sweet tea for no reason other than I know I can. We’ve slipped back into our old best friend ways only now there’s the added (and most important) benefit of getting to make out.
Ella scoots closer to me on the bench seat. “So, I’ve been meaning to ask you something,” she says, staring at her food.
“What is it?”
She swirls the straw around in her drink and casts a glance toward Toby and April who are laughing at a video on Toby’s phone. “Does Kennedy have . . . other things she could use against you? Like more texts or dirty photos or something?”
“Nope,” I say confidently, since I’ve already thought that over myself. I’m not the type of guy to send naked photos and that one conversation we’d had about sex was the only one I can remember having. “She doesn’t have anything else unless she wants to make something up. We’re good.”
“Cool,” Ella says as her shoulders relax. “I don’t want any more surprises. I just want this feud to be over.”
Principal Reynolds walks over to our table just as the bell rings. He clears his throat. “Which one of you is Ethan Poe?”
Ella’s eyes widen and she grabs my hand.
“I am,” I say, standing and untangling myself from Ella. I put on the best innocent expression I can. “What’s going on?”
“You drive the red Ford?”
I nod. “Uh, yeah?”
His lips flatten into a thin line. “Come with me.”
I give a helpless look to Ella and follow him down the long hallway that leads at the student parking lot. “Can I ask what’s going on?” I say just to break the silence. “Am I in trouble?”
“Not with the school, you aren’t.” Mr. Reynolds says. “But you’re either a target of random acts of vandalism, or you’ve pissed someone off, son.”
“I don’t understand,” I say, but then I stop short in the middle of the parking lot. The school cop is parked in front of my truck, his lights on while he fills out some paperwork on a clipboard. That’s not what makes me curse under my breath.
It’s the busted windows that catch my attention first. Every single pane of glass has been shattered. All four tires slashed. The headlights lie in broken pieces on the asphalt and Mr. Reynolds has the nerve to say, “At least they didn’t scratch up the paint, kid.”
My stomach launches itself into my throat. The cop walks over to me. “Any idea who might have done this?”
“Yeah.” My voice is heavy, my fists hurting from how hard I clench them together. “I know exactly who did this.”
Chapter 26
Halfway through fifth period, I get a text from Ethan.
Need to talk. Meet me in the science hallway.
I ask to use the restroom and then book it across campus to the science hall. Ethan is pacing between two classrooms, his shoulders up near his ears and his expression far away.
“What’s going on?” I ask. Gallons of rage are pouring off him in all directions, so I know this isn’t a romantic scheme to steal a kiss in the middle of class. “Ethan?” I say, to pull him out of his daze.
He sighs through his nose. “Kennedy took this whole thing too far.”
“Oh no, what happened?” I reach to my back pocket, realizing too late that I left my phone in my purse in class. “What’d she post this time?”
“It’s not a post,” he says, shaking his head. He unlocks his phone screen and finds something on his phone, then turns it to me. “She got physical.”
I don’t understand what I’m seeing at first. The photo on his phone shows his truck all smashed up and my first thought—stupid as it is—is that another tornado must have whirled through the parking lot. But of course that’s not the case; we would have heard about that. I hold the phone closer, peering at the damage inflicted onto his shiny red truck. “Kennedy did this?”
“Of course she did.” Ethan’s chest rises, his jaw flexing. “You know she did. And yet there’s no damn evidence to prove it.”
He shakes his head and continues pacing. “I just got back from a meeting with the principal where they said someone vandalized my truck but they can’t know who. You know those cameras on the light poles? Turns out they don’t work.”
My heart aches for Ethan but I can’t say anything because he’s going off on a rampage now. “I told them it was Kennedy and they even called her parents but she’s home ‘sick’, yeah right.” He makes air quotes with his fingers. “The bitch got pissed about our shirt and then took it out on my truck. Or maybe she hired someone else to do it. We know she did it. And now Dad is pissed. He had to get a wrecker to come haul my truck to the shop.”
“Wow.” I touch his arm and he stops pacing and turns to face me. I reach for his hand and he lets
me take it. “I’m really sorry, Ethan. This sucks and she won’t get away with it. We’ll make sure she pays.”
His lips press into a thin line as he inhales a sharp breath. “I appreciate the fire in your words, Ella. You’re a fighter and that’s sexy as hell. But maybe we should let this go. I mean, what’s next? Will she hire someone to take out my knees with a metal pipe?”
I sigh. “You need to file a police report.”
“Already did.” He drags his hand down his face. “Insurance will fix my truck. I just hate that she got to me. I hate that she won.”
I shake my head. “She hasn’t won. Is your truck already towed?”
“Yeah. Toby said he’ll give us a ride home.”
I use Ethan’s phone to check social media. So far every app he has is completely free of any talk about his smashed up truck. “Did anyone see your truck besides you and the principal?”
“Just the school cop, why?”
I grin. “I don’t think anyone knows. Word never got out and your truck is gone so no one knows. And if Kennedy wants to post something about it to tell everyone, then it’ll make her look guilty as hell.” I put a hand on his shoulder and look him in those beautiful dark eyes. “Don’t worry. That bitch hasn’t won anything.”
*
The dinner table is a strictly Poe affair tonight since both of my parents are working late. Dad has a twenty-four-hour shift and Mom doesn’t get off until eight. Tensions are high as we sit around the dinner table, and it’s not because Mrs. Poe won’t tell us all of the ingredients in her eggplant veggie pasta.
Mr. Poe stares at his dinner fork like it’s done something to offend him. “You think it was a rival football team?” He points the fork at Ethan. “Some kind of prank to WCHS’s quarterback? Man, if we find out who did it, there will be some hell to pay.”
“It wasn’t football related, Dad.” Ethan takes a tentative bite of something green from his plate. I think it’s zucchini but it tastes spicy with the sauce that’s baked into it. “This has nothing to do with sports.”