As the homecoming dance progresses, I am continually impressed by Ash. She has been an attentive friend to Jenna and D'Nae. She made sure Miller and I got a break, not that we needed it, and made sure Jenna had a good time solo. Now I see why Reyna had kept Ashlyn close and ignorant of her machinations. I'm glad that it’s not the case any longer.
The last slow song of the night is country, of course. “Just a Kiss” by Lady Antebellum if I know my country music (which I don’t, but there's no escaping it). It is, however, sucking out my resolve to simply drop her off at home and sleep in my own bed, alone. By myself.
My mind wanders for those last few minutes to what it would be like to go home with her every night. Not that I could, per Mr. Ramos’ un-rousing anti-sex discussion.
We slip out the door afterward, knowing the last few songs will be line dances and the Cotton-Eyed Joe. Our timing, however, could not have possibly been any worse.
Outside, in the parking lot with Jacob, is Reyna. Of course she sees us. And proceeds to stomp over, anger etched on her features. I want badly to be back inside immaturely yelling “Bullshit” with the rest of the crowd.
“You!” Reyna screeches. Other people hear it—who wouldn’t? Phones are out, cameras at the ready for whatever overdone drama Reyna is about to put out into the universe.
“Reyna, you don’t want to start with me tonight,” Ashlyn attempts to reason, exasperated already. “It’s the homecoming dance, and almost everyone is here, watching. Whatever happens will be all over YouTube before dawn.” Reyna ignores her totally and rages on.
“Do you have any idea what you’ve done to me? Do you?”
“Yes, Reyna, I do,” she sighs, still trying to keep her voice reasonable. I try to get us by, but Reyna’s having none of it and grabs Ashlyn by the arm, hard enough to bruise. I have to count to ten a few times as I pry her fingers off Ash. If Reyna knew how important all those numbers were to her safety, she would’ve helped me count. As it is, I'm skipping half the numbers.
“Reyna,” I warn. “There are people watching that aren’t necessarily on your side.”
“You think I give a damn? This is bullshit! I've gotta leave because of her and because of your sister, Kiel.” She sneers my name, which turns out is worse than it sounds when Lili whines.
“You really want to do this right now, Rey?” Ashlyn nearly begs.
“Don’t you dare call me that! You lost the right to my friendship. You betrayed me! You told my dad and he’s kicking me out, sending me away. And it’s all your fault!”
“How is it my fault? You were drunk—no, beyond drunk—Reyna. You're the one who spilled your guts, literally and physically. You called me to pick you up!”
“And what a freaking mistake that was! I should’ve known.” Reyna turns to the amassing crowd and yells at them. “Ashlyn. Sweet, innocent Ashlyn will rat you out! Can’t trust her. Can’t ask her to help you out.”
“Reyna,” I warned again. “Ashlyn’s being nice now, but I don’t think I’d expect that to continue. You need to leave. Go home.”
“This isn’t between you and me; though it can be,” she threatens idly.
“Ash,” I whisper. “Take her down.”
“You already have him wrapped around your finger, don’t you Ash? Anything else you got him wrapped around, Ash?”
“OH-freaking-Kay,” Ashlyn growls, her end-of-the-rope snapped. “Kiel, could you please hold me…back. Is that the term? Because I’d prefer to only verbally beat the pregnant woman!”
“Oh, so scared of little Ashlyn!” Reyna says with a dumbass laugh. I wrap my arms securely but gently around Ash’s torso.
“Listen up people,” my sweet Ash says in her cheer captain voice, commanding attention. “Since we’re doing this publicly instead of privately…”
“Oh yeah?” Reyna taunts.
“Yes, Rey, we are,” still calmly, which makes Reyna fume. “Shara Todd, sixth grade. Laura Frederick, third grade. Lisa Braun, ninth grade. Tanya Studdard, eighth grade. Josie Randon, last year’s cheer tryouts. Ashlyn Ramos, senior year. And anyone else in between that I don’t know about.”
“You. Can’t. Prove. It!” Reyna says with a nasty smile, arms crossed.
“I don’t have to, Reyna. Your audience just texted and Tweeted it. They’ll make up their own minds. They’ll do the same thing I did and put the sordid puzzle together for themselves.”
Jacob, who had remained silent, leaning on his truck, turned slowly and menacingly toward Reyna. I didn’t know any of the history, so his anger was intriguing. I didn’t have long to ponder, either.
“Josie?” Jacob gritted out. “What did you do to Josie, Reyna?”
“Your ex?” Reyna asks innocently. “I thought you wouldn’t want her cheering you on all season long.”
“We were still dating during try outs!” he yells at her, practically in her face.
“Oh, Jake. Oh, I am so sorry. I didn’t know!” Without another word, Jacob spins and elbows through the crowd. I hope to God he finds Josie in the mood to forgive.
Jenna and D'Nae with Miller’s help are finally able to squeeze through the crowd. Amazingly, the chaperones haven't caught on yet. Reyna’s not done, evidently, because the idiot is still standing there expectantly, like Ash is going to kowtow to her soon.
“Look, Reyna. As far as I'm concerned—” Ashlyn starts, but stops…
As Reyna makes an insane lunge for Ashlyn, even with me now in the way. Thanks to excellent fight reflexes, Ash is now behind me. Not that I serve as any kind of actual deterrent to the clinically deranged. I take the hit meant for Ash, a five-foot tall girl. I choke back laughter as she whacks me across the chest, ineffectively. Laughter erupts from the crowds as cameras click and the dings of received messages surround us.
***
Ashlyn
What is she thinking, trying to hit me? Jenna and D'Nae are livid beside us. Miller seems appalled, but ready to take her out if the need arose, but he may be too busy. I notice he has a firm grip on D'Nae. And Kiel. Who, with a working brain, challenges anyone under his protection? Her own friends are too busy ensuring this entire scene went viral. And she’s pregnant for heaven’s sake!
Not to mention the hordes of girls who would die for the chance to slap the witch.
Jacob wasn’t on her side any longer either after discovering Reyna was somehow behind his break up. That was one of the worst days of Jacob’s life. I had watched from the sidelines as Josie cried and begged Jacob to forgive her, for whatever infraction Reyna had obviously (in hindsight) orchestrated. Reyna is quite literally alone now. I'm sad for her. I know how it feels.
“We’re done talking, Reyna,” Kiel says firmly. “If you don’t go home, I’ll call someone who can drive you.”
“You, Kiel Fuller, are the idiot. She’ll turn on you, too. Got any secrets?”
Is she serious? This has gone beyond ridiculous. I step out from behind Kiel warily. I'm not the fighting type, and I don’t mind being timid if it keeps my face in one piece, but this has gone on too long…
“Reyna!” I yell, finally pissed. “Go home! Go home and stop saying and doing stupid stuff. It’s not just you anymore you need to worry about. Please, go home!”
“Ash,” Kiel whispers while still watching Reyna for anymore sudden movements. “Let’s just go. This isn’t getting us anywhere.” He’s right, I have to admit, the show’s basically over and no one’s winning.
“Maybe,” Reyna taunts, “Kiel’s my baby’s daddy. Huh? Think about that!”
There's a collective gasp from the still-lurking crowd. I, however, know that statement is the dumbest she's made tonight.
“Rey,” I say sadly, shaking my head, “You need to figure out who the real daddy is and tell him. He deserves to know. Do you know, Rey?”
“Shut the hell up, Ashlyn. You have no…idea!” Reyna’s starting to crack, I can tell. Her hands flail while she yells at me. I see a teacher making her way out to us. She probably ran out
of bandwidth for Candy Crush and came to find out why.
Reyna spares me one more angry glare, and I know this is over. She's lost her allies and her frenemies, too. The neutral parties were now polarized. They would be searching for a new “it” girl to focus their attention on starting tomorrow.
If Reyna were truly shipping out, life would return to relative normalcy for me come Monday. Only there would be no Reyna. I would have my two newest best friends. Maybe I could get some of the old friends back into my life again.
My eyes were open now. I’d breezed through life following blindly in Reyna’s wake, never seeing what she plowed through to get where she was going and what she wanted. It may sound like I was the most naïve person to have graced this earth. But I'm not the first or the last that has followed the person they thought was their friend, thought they could trust. And I won’t be the last.
But it was the last time for me.
***
Kiel relaxes his stance and Miller releases D'Nae cautiously, like he's afraid she may chase Reyna down. She just might… But for now, D'Nae and Jenna run straight into my arms.
“Did that really just happen?” Jenna asks, dazed.
“Yes. It. Did.” D'Nae answers.
“So, is it over?” Jenna asks unsure.
“I sure as heck hope so,” I say. “I'm too tired to deliver any more cutting glances or to reveal devastating truths.”
“Ladies,” Miller yawns. “Time to get you two home.” He offers them both his arms and they link up and start off.
“See you Monday! Text us!” Jenna hollers over her shoulder. D’Nae waves at us. They’re gone and the audience has broken up. They’ve gotten their show and have moved on to the next drama unfolding. Jacob and Josie’s, if what we hear is their voices.
Kiel snakes his hand around my waist, and we make it to the Jeep. Once there, I immediately face him and brace myself on the door. He leans in, laughing and framing me with his arms. Our lips meet, compelling me to forget the emotional rollercoaster of the entire day. Several minutes in, I grip his waist to keep from collapsing.
We break apart and have no immediate plans to move. Kiel takes me into his arms and spins up, switching places with me. He's supporting my weight, off the killer heels that are officially killing me. Bless him.
This is the part of the night I've been dreading; it should never be allowed to end. Eventually, he lets go and nearly has to force me inside the Jeep. Whining isn’t something I do, but I wonder if it would do me any good in this situation…
***
Kiel
So far, this night has been one of the most amazing in my life. It’s been almost perfect, except... Yeah, I blame Reyna for the blemish on an otherwise perfect night. It had to happen sooner or later, but later would’ve been better. My Ash, though? Talk about grace under pressure. She handled it with finesse. Made Reyna look the fool—which she is.
In her last ditch effort, Reyna even tried foisting her pregnancy off on me. Really? Now, if I hadn’t handled my own business, it may have gone the other way, with Ashlyn buying into Reyna’s bull. Ashlyn had nothing but pity for her, whereas I can’t seem to contain my contempt. Her only saving grace was her gender or I would have gotten in a few good punches, regardless of all my personal resolutions.
But it’s behind us now as we make it to the Jeep. To the Jeep, yes, but not quite in the Jeep. We make out up against it, and I find peace in her arms. I heard a few catcalls as other people pass us on the way to their own cars. Some even honk at us and yell the usual. But if it doesn’t phase Ash, who am I to break this up?
After some time, I manage to get Ashlyn into the Jeep. I know we both are refusing to end the night. The only solution we can think of is to linger, parked in front of her house. After making out in the Jeep until the porch lights flashed, Ash drags herself away and walks backward, shoes dangling from her fingertips, to her front door. The temptation arises to rush over and steal her away.
Instead, I drive around town, music blasting, to clear my head. What Mr. Ramos pulled me away to say has been repeating on and off throughout the evening. It wasn’t much of a shocker, an ultimatum of the oldest variety—“You better be serious about my daughter. Or else.” Then he went on to regale me with stories of his Counter-sniper days in the Air Force. And let me know how easy it was for him to qualify at the gun range to get his CHL.
Awesome.
What if I am serious about Ashlyn? The kind of serious Mr. Ramos is alluding to. Ok, so he wasn’t alluding. He was effectively pointing a rifle at a very particular type of serious. I think I am though. That’s what has me still driving the empty streets of Larson. Once I make the distinction between serious and “serious,” I'm ready to head home.
I drive up to my house anticipating quiet and some solitude. Maybe some garage time to de-stress and take my mind off how close Ash lives…. But Lili’s waiting to spring as soon as I step inside. She's already downloaded, tagged, and commented on all the dirt and is expecting my POV. Mom and Dad are also awake, sitting in the living room, some crime scene something or other playing unwatched in the background.
They’re sitting up against each other with Dad’s iPad situated on their touching legs. It’s cute, yet frightening. There’s an awkward silence as they stare at me.
“Everyone ok?” Dad asks.
“Yeah, we’re all good. Except maybe not Reyna, maybe not Jacob. Who knows?”
“And Ashlyn?” Mom asks. “How did she take it all?”
“Surprisingly well,” I answer confidently and not without a hint of pride. “I’d have let D'Nae hold Reyna down while Ash got in a few good hits, but…”
They nod in strange agreement. They might have actually done what I refrained from doing if they had been in my situation. Except for Lili, who would have worn stiletto heels with the express purpose of drawing blood. I made a mental note-to-self to get on and stay on Lili’s good side.
I'm not entirely a Mama’s boy, but I can’t resist the urge to sit down beside her for a few minutes. No matter what her feelings toward Ash are, she’s still my mom. She hugs me to her side and rubs my head like I'm in kindergarten again.
“Ashlyn is a pretty incredible young lady,” Mom murmurs.
“I’ve sort of known that for a while,” I joke. Mom thumps me on the back of the head startling a laugh out of me. I stay there by my mom for a little longer, comforted by the knowledge of her acceptance of Ashlyn.
I excuse myself and wind up in the garage, writing, playing, and rewriting until a few hours before dawn. I drag my tired butt to bed and crash knowing I'll be up and ready to arrive at Mass on time. Mom’ll be so proud. Then I'm out cold.
***
Ashlyn
I barely make it up in time to prepare for church. There’s no closet-clean-out wardrobe decision. It’s first clean dress I can get off the hanger. Brunch is ice cold, but the muffins are always good whether hot or cold. The only K-cup left is some strange Jamaican Me Crazy flavor, so I brew it, dumping more creamer in it than there is coffee. I take it all to-go.
The text I got from him this morning (that woke my sleeping butt up) said he’d meet me there. That has me worried. I know it’s sort-of-lame low self-esteem and sleep deprivation that has me thinking he could be about to dump me. I'm no longer the damsel in distress, after all. Seriously, Ashlyn, that’s dumb. Wake up and snap out of it, I tell myself.
With that rousing pep talk, I climb wearily out of the car. I purposefully chose flats today with my maxi dress. I cannot count the blisters and raw places on my feet. My parents rush us in, mere feet ahead of the Father, with just enough time to kneel and cross ourselves before sitting. Right by Kiel and his mom. I scoot in all the way to get to him. We’re all crammed into the same pew.
I saw Kiel’s grin when I knelt, but now that I'm seated, it’s turned full-blown-moronic smile. I hate to use that word in conjunction with the guy I love, however, the shoe fits. Even his mom notices, smacking his arm when he fail
s to recite a response. His eyes are trained on me and not the missalette.
Still smiling, showing off his dimples, he drapes his arm across my shoulders and scoots until there’s no gaps between our bodies. He’s garnering stares from the entire congregation and this pew in particular. I would care, really I would, if it didn’t feeling amazing and simply right resting in the crook of his arm.
Not for the first time, I wonder what my dad told him last night. He doesn’t seem to have that healthy fear of PDA in front of Dad that I would expect to witness. The service drags on, not because God’s boring, but because I want to be alone with Kiel to ask him my questions. I also need to find out about that ridiculous smile that is totally incongruous and out of place at a Catholic Mass.
Brisa, beside me, covertly elbows me. Even she knows something is up. I had to fill her in on a few of last night’s events because she’d been picked up earlier by a friend’s parent. She may have missed the show firsthand, but social media helped her piece it together.
***
Mom and Dad excuse me from communal lunch. We walk out alongside Kiel’s mom, who makes surprisingly polite small talk. She likes my shoes, she made carnitas for lunch, did I prefer flour or corn tortillas? For the record, I'm a flour tortilla girl. Today his mom is miles from the cold and distant woman from last night. Some might even call her friendly. My eyes search his out with suspicion. He shrugs like it’s not a big deal.
Once in the Jeep I ask, “So, what are we going to do with ourselves?”
“Well, we can hang out in the garage or my room, though my virtue is at stake both places,” he suggests.
“What? Your virtue?” I ask, giggling. Like I'm not the one tearing off his clothes…
“Yeah, mine.”
“Because?” I tease.
“Because I made your dad a promise…”
Oh, here we go. “No you didn’t! What kind of promise?” I ask, stunned.
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