Opposite of Ordinary: (The Fareland Society, Book 1)

by Sorensen, Jessica

  “Fun, right?” he asks me, slipping the keys out of the ignition.

  I nod truthfully. “Yeah, it really was.”

  He glances at Maxon then back at me. “Fun enough to ride with us to school again?”

  I peek over my shoulder at Maxon to see what he thinks about Clove’s offer. Again, he’s watching me, but before our gazes can connect, he bails out of the car.

  I return my attention to Clove. “I’d love to ride with you guys, but only if both parties are cool with it.”

  “He’s cool with it,” he promises, opening the door to get out. “He’s just nervous.”

  “About what?”

  Clove only offers me an amused smile before getting out and disappearing into the gas station. Confusion breakdances in my head as I hop out of the car. Clove is a really cool guy and everything, but can he ever give a straightforward answer?

  By the time I walk into the store, Clove has piled half the candy aisle into his arms, and Maxon is raiding the slushy machines. Deciding a slushy doesn’t sound too bad, I make my way back and grab the smallest cup size, not wanting to splurge on a bigger one. But Maxon nudges my hand away from the smaller cups and sticks an extra-large in my hand.

  I glance down at the cup, and then back at him. “If I drank this much blue slushy, my pee would look like a smurf.”

  A teeny, tiny smile tips his lips up. “Only extra-large slushies are allowed in the car.”

  “That sounds like a made-up rule.”

  He slides his cup underneath the blue slushy nozzle. “Aren’t all rules made up?”

  “I guess so.” I feel like I’m being tested. I just wish I knew what would happen if I passed or failed.

  I do a mental add up of how much change I stuffed into my pocket this morning. If I go for the big size, I’ll have seventy-five cents less for lunch, which means no small bag of Cheetos for me. But my need to pass this test outweighs my desire for cheesy goodness, so I wait until Maxon moves his cup out from under the machine before I shove an extra-large one underneath. As I pull down on the lever, a ghost smile of approval rises on his lips. Then he walks off toward the candy aisle.

  Once my cup is full, I plop on a lid, grab a straw, and then head for the register. Maxon and Clove are already there with their candy and slushies piled on the counter. They’re facing each other and arguing over which kind of gum to get: cotton candy or spearmint.

  “Are you kidding me? You want cotton candy?” Clove gapes at Maxon. “That’s the most disgusting flavor ever. I don’t even know why they make it.”

  “Cotton candy is awesome.” Maxon snatches up a pack and smacks it on the counter.

  “You and your sugar addiction,” Clove replies in disgust. “Maybe it was you stinking up my car with the overwhelming stench of sugar.”

  “Actually, it was.” Maxon rests an arm on the counter. “But only because I spent this morning pulling apart a cotton candy machine for our project. There was still some stuck in the bowl, and I got it all over my hands.”

  “Great. I bet you left sticky shit all over the door handle of my car.” Clove heaves an overdramatic sigh. “That’s going to be a pain in the ass to clean up.”

  The cashier, a woman in her early twenties, watches Clove and Maxon argue with her brows pinched. When she finishes ringing up their purchases, she clears her throat. “Your total’s ten fifty-seven.” She tries to bedazzle Clove with a flirty smile. “And, in my opinion, spearmint is better than cotton candy.”

  Clove smirks at Maxon. “See? I’m right.”

  Maxon rolls his eyes, and then his gaze settles on me. He pauses, looking at me strangely, before snatching the slushy from my hand and setting it on the counter. “And this, too.”

  “I can buy my own slushy.” I move for the cup, but he gently smacks my hand away.

  “I’m the one who made you get the extra-large size. I can pay for it,” he mutters, turning back to the cashier as he reaches into his back pocket for his wallet.

  I want to protest, but Clove swiftly shakes his head and mouths, “Make him happy and let him buy it.”

  I don’t know why buying my slushy would make Maxon happy, but I decide to keep my trap shut.

  After Maxon gets his change, he tears open the bag of licorice, puts a piece in place of a straw, and then returns my slushy to me. Then he does the same to his slushy and takes a long sip, watching me expectantly. The combo doesn’t seem that appealing but, feeling as though I’m getting initiated into a club, I take a small sip.

  “Okay, this is actually pretty good,” I answer honestly. “It kind of makes me want to try cotton candy gum.”

  He backs toward the doors, tucking the bag of licorice under his arm. “You’ve never tried cotton candy gum before?”

  I shake my head as we step out of the store where the sky is now a pale pink. “Nope. I’ve never really been a fan of cotton candy flavor, but I don’t know, now I’m kind of wondering …” I trail off as Knox’s silver Mercedes wheels into the parking space next to Clove’s car. “Well, that’s just super.”

  The engine turns off and Knox hops out, leaning down to check his reflection in the car’s side mirror.

  Anger burns under my skin as I recollect the post I saw, and it only doubles when he rounds the car, opens the passenger door, and Queeny gets out.

  “What a gentleman,” Queeny says with a giggle, taking his hand. “No wonder I like you so much.”

  “Gentleman, my ass,” I grumble, tearing a bite out of the licorice straw. “In about a month, you’ll be opening your own doors and paying for your own dinners and movie tickets.”

  “What’s wrong?” Maxon startles me as he moves up beside me.

  For a bitch of a moment, I have the urge to run back into the gas station and hide so Queeny and Knox won’t see me with Clove and Maxon. The old Ash would have done that, fearing losing her popularity. But the old Ash kind of sucked and got herself into this sort of mess, so I stay put.

  “Nothing’s wrong,” I lie, and very stupidly, too, because he tracks my gaze and figures out on his own what’s got me looking like I’m about to vomit blue slushy and licorice all over my four-inch weighted down shoes.

  “Well, shit.” Clove pulls a face at the official couple making out on the hood of his car. “They really are together.”

  “Yep, they sure are.” Bitterness bites from my tone. I may hate them both, but that doesn’t make the knife lodged in my back any more bearable.

  “But the real problem is: how are we going to get them away from my car?” Clove asks, looking at me for an answer. “Yell at them?”

  “Queeny’s pretty self-involved, so she might not even notice if you yell at her.” My stomach constricts as Queeny plants her butt on the hood of Clove’s car and pulls Knox in for a slobbery kiss.

  “I could always hose them down,” Clove suggests, seeming delighted by the idea. “I’m sure that’d break up their throat inspection pretty quickly.”

  The knife in my back becomes a bit easier to endure. “That’s a great idea, and one I’d love to witness, but I’m pretty sure there’s no hose here.”

  “Then we could dump your slushy on them.” He extends his hand for my cup.

  I move the cup behind my back. “No way. I love this slushy way too much to waste it on them.”

  Clove appears positively pleased by my answer. “We could always use Maxon’s slushy.”

  “Absolutely not,” I say. “Then he’ll just turn into Oscar the Grouch again.”

  “You know, I’m standing right here, and I can hear everything you’re saying,” Maxon mutters from beside me.

  “That’s great, man. Glad you haven’t lost your hearing yet,” Clove tells him with a clever smile. “Although, most people don’t normally see a reduction in their hearing until they reach their sixties, so it’s a little odd you’re worrying about yours now.”

  “Your jokes are starting to get really old,” Maxon replies dryly.

  “No, your hearing is, re
member?” Clove quips, popping a Skittles into his mouth. “Now I’m a little concerned that your memory is, too. Quick, what happened when you got home from science club the other night?”

  Maxon’s gaze skates to mine, and my cheeks morph into the color of fire ants.

  Well, there you go. He definitely saw me.

  “Nothing happened,” Maxon insists, fiddling with his licorice straw. “My memory’s fine. My hearing’s fine. Everything’s fine. You, on the other hand … maybe you should lay off the weed for a while.”

  Clove lets out a fat-chance-in-hell snort then takes a long glug of his soda while staring at his car. “Okay, let’s take a break from discussing our sanity and focus instead on the bigger problem happening right in front of us.”

  “You mean, the porn show going on, on the hood of your car?” I ask, pulling a repulsed face as Queeny wraps her legs around Knox’s waist.

  Maxon starts hacking, red-faced, coughing and pounding on his chest.

  “Are you okay?” I give him a gentle pat on the back. “Did you choke on the licorice? Or give yourself a brain freeze?”

  Maxon swiftly looks away, catching his breath. “I’m good.”

  “Ash, you can’t say words like porn show around virgin ears,” Clove stage-whispers. “And that word leaving your lips … that makes it, like, ten times worse.”

  “Sorry,” I apologize, not bothering to point out my own virgin status. “But, why does it make it worse if I say it?”

  “Because you’re pretty.” Clove leans in closer, his breath tickling my cheek. “And Maxon thinks you’re pretty, which makes him think dirty thoughts when you say dirty words.”

  “All right, I’m over your jester act at my expense,” Maxon announces, stepping forward to snare Clove’s gaze. “I don’t know what your deal is today, but apparently, your end mission is to embarrass me.”

  Clove nods with an amused glint in his eyes. “Perhaps.”

  I shake my head. So much for getting Maxon in a good mood.

  Grimacing, Maxon storms off toward the car, yanks open the door, and lays on the horn as he sinks into the driver’s seat.

  Queeny and Knox jolt from the car, wide-eyed and panicked. Maxon doesn’t let up off the horn as they fix their clothes and hair.

  Once Queeny’s dress and every strand of hair is perfectly in place, she aims her notorious bitch face at Maxon while Knox takes out his phone, seeming bored.

  “What the hell, freak?” She approaches the edge of the curb and stares him down with her hands on her hips. “Stop honking that stupid horn before I come over and make you.”

  Maxon taps the horn three more times. “If you don’t want to get a horn honked at you, then maybe you should make out on your own car.”

  “Are you stupid?” she sneers. “You don’t make out on the hood of a Mercedes. But I guess you probably don’t know that since you drive this piece of shit and have never made out with a girl.”

  “Clever comeback.” Maxon’s tone oozes sarcasm. “Tell me, do you come up with them on your own, or do you get them out of the bitch hand guide?”

  “Okay, I clearly underestimated his bad mood. We should’ve put, like, fifteen pieces of licorice into, like, five slushies,” Clove mutters before jogging over to Maxon.

  I understand what he’s saying. While Maxon has always owned who he is, he’s also avoided getting into fights with Queeny, and with everyone else for that matter. Why start now?

  “Max, my man, get out of my seat so I can drive our asses to school,” Clove says in a pressing tone. “And before you get bit by the evil viper.”

  “Excuse me?” Queeny shuffles off the curb, glaring at Clove. “What did you just call me?”

  “Which time?” Clove drags his hand across his jaw. “Because there’ve been a lot of times I’ve called you a lot of things.”

  Queeny’s eyes flare. “Just who the hell do you think you are?”

  Clove rests his arms on top of the door. “I’m Clove. I sit behind you in math class. But you probably don’t know that since you spend the entire class staring at your reflection in that pocket mirror you always carry around and chanting, what I’m assuming is, ‘mirror, mirror in my hand, who’s the bitchiest in Fareland?’ Personally, I don’t get why you keep asking the same question. Everyone knows the answer.”

  Fuming, she strides toward him with her hand raised. Clove makes no move to step back and doesn’t need to. Queeny can hit about as hard as a Muppet baby. Her mouth is what does the damage. And a few days ago, I would’ve stood by and watched her destroy Clove, but that was when I hadn’t fully experienced her viper bite. When I was a coward. When I hid behind my popularity. When I was as bad as her. But I don’t want to be like Queeny anymore.

  Amazing how much can change in a few days.

  Amazing how much can change after you felt the poison from a viper bite.

  Despite my brave thoughts, I feel like I’m back in fifth grade again as I make my way over to Clove.

  Don’t back down. Keep going. Don’t let her go after Clove. Let her go after you. You’ve got nothing else to lose anyway.

  “There you are.” I step in between Clove and Queeny, having no clue where I’m going with this, but I keep my lips moving, speaking directly to Clove. “I thought you drove off without me.”

  Clove raises an eyebrow at me. “Now, why would I do that? That’d be as bad as letting someone make out on my Mercedes.”

  I press my lips together to hold back a laugh. “Well, I’m glad you didn’t. I’d hate to be left here with all the vipers lurking around.” God, I feel sick to my stomach as I feel her eyes boring into the side of my head. I can almost feel her wheels turning, searching for a way to rip me apart.

  Going up against her is way hard.

  “Oh, my God.” Queeny gapes at my outfit. “What the hell are you wearing?”

  “Clothes,” I quip. “You know, those pieces of fabric people wear to cover up their bodies to keep from getting arrested for public indecency.”

  She rolls her eyes. “That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

  “I don’t know that for sure,” I tell her. “Sometimes your intelligence is questionable. Like that one day you thought bird shit was a dirty raindrop.”

  “That happened one time.” Her eyes narrow on Clove as he giggles. Then her gaze glides back to me. “So, are you two, like, a thing?” Her mocking tone makes my jaw twinge.

  “So what if we are?” I ask with my chin held high. “He’d be way better than my last boyfriend.”

  She lets out a disdainful laugh. “God, Ash, just because we’re not friends anymore doesn’t make it okay for you to start dating losers.”

  “He’s not a loser,” I snap, losing all my coolness. “And how is it any of your business who I date? You know, since we’re not friends anymore.”

  “You’re right. It’s not my business. Just like it’s not your business who I date.” She struts back to Knox, who’s texting on his phone, oblivious to the fight going on.

  Knox looks up from his phone when Queeny loops her arm through his. “What’s going on?” He glances from Queeny to me and his expression falls. “Ashlynn, I didn’t know you were here.”

  “Well, Knox Junior Junior,” I use his full name, knowing he despises it. Who can blame him? It’s a really stupid name. “You probably didn’t see me because you were too busy sticking your tongue down my ex-best friend’s throat.”

  He has the balls to act apologetic. “I’m sorry. I know it has to be hard watching us together. But you did cheat on me, and that was really hard for me to hear about.” He drapes his arm over Queeny’s shoulder and pulls her against him. “So, you might as well get used to seeing us as a couple.”

  “Why would I bother doing that? She’s only using you like she does every other guy,” I retort, loathing my shaky voice. “And in a couple of days, she’ll be on to someone new.”

  “Don’t sound so jealous.” A conniving grin twists at Queeny’s lips. “We b
oth know what happens when you get jealous.”

  And just like that, I painfully become aware of what secret is going to be buzzing around the school hallways.

  Well, there could be worse.

  “So, that’s the secret you told everyone?” I play the unaffected card, though I’m freaking the eff out. “You must be going soft.”

  “Far from it.” Her eyes darken as she steps toward me. “This is just the start, bitch, to a very, very long and painful fall to Hell where you belong.”

  “Coming from the devil herself.” I inch toward her with my hand balled at my side.

  She notices my clenched fist, and her smile falters. Then that my-shit-don’t-stink smirk rises again. “What? Are you going to hit me or something?” She laughs like the idea is absurd, though she knows I’m not a clawer or hair puller. In fact, I can see the hint of concern in her eyes. “Like you ever would. You’re such a coward. You have been since the day I rescued you from being a loser.” She clasps her hands together and rolls her eyes. “Oh, Queeny, please save me from this scary middle school that calls me mean names. I can’t do it by myself because I’m pathetic and weak, and I have no backbone.” She lowers her hands to her sides, and her expression hardens. “Just like your father, who can’t even hold down a job because he was dumb enough to fall off a roof. And your mom—God, that woman is such a hot mess. I mean, hello, it’s called makeup and she definitely needs it. And Lucky? All he is, is a stupid pothead who can’t even kill a freaking bug.”

  My anger skyrockets from a ten to an eleven hundred in half a second flat. I swear something breaks inside me. Shatters. I don’t know what it is, other than my self-control to remain calm.

  I step toward her, my tone eerily cold. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I couldn’t hurt anything. But, what if you don’t know me as well as you think? I mean, I am hanging out with these guys”—I gesture toward Clove and Maxon, who are watching the scene unfold in shock—“which I’m sure you thought would never happen. So, you might want to be extra careful with what you say because, who knows, maybe I’ll finally snap and pull those damn extensions out of your hair, break your fake nails, and pop that stupid gel-filled bra!” Any willpower I had left explodes as I drop my slushy and storm at her, ready to throw down.