by Kai Juniper
"Nobody deserves that." She turns to me, lowering her voice. "And even if they did, it's not up to us to decide."
"You don't feel even a little less guilty, knowing he's a criminal?"
She pauses. "Maybe a little, but it still doesn't make it right. He should be in jail, not dead."
"He's not dead."
She leans toward me and lowers her voice to a whisper. "Susan was over last night. I asked her about the guy and she said his organs are failing. The doctors don't think he'll make it."
"Why didn't you call me last night and tell me?"
She backs away and begins the experiment.
"Ella, why you didn't call me?"
"Because we don't do that anymore." She lights the bunsen burner, which is usually my job because she doesn't like lighting it.
"Don't do what?"
She turns to me, her eyes narrowed. "Call each other. Talk. Pretend that we're friends when we're not."
"What's going on with you? Are you still mad about what happened in the cafeteria? Because I swear, I had nothing to do with that."
"I don't want to talk about it. Let's just do the experiment."
We don't talk the rest of class, other than the few times when we have to talk about the experiment. It's good that she's angry at me. It'll help us go back to being enemies, which is what needs to happen if I'm going to steal the valedictorian title from her.
When we're packing up our stuff to leave, I blurt out, "My parents are getting a divorce."
Ella stops shoving her laptop in her bag and stares at me. "When did you find out?"
"Last night. My dad took me to dinner and told me."
The angry look that's been on her face all through lab suddenly softens to one of compassion and concern. "Briggs, I'm sorry. That's gotta be tough."
I shrug. "Not really. I knew it was coming."
Actually, I didn't. I thought they'd keep their fake marriage going forever. I didn't think my mom would ever be brave enough to stand up to my father and demand a divorce. Maybe she really did have some kind of spiritual awakening.
"You want to talk about it?" Ella asks. "I have to work after school, but I'll be home by six."
"No, I'm good. And like you said, we don't do that anymore." I go around her and out the door, feeling angry, but not sure if I'm angry at Ella for acting like she wants nothing to do with me, or angry at myself for wanting to talk to her.
I have plenty of friends. I don't need to talk to Ella. I don't need to talk to anyone. Who cares if my parents are getting divorced and I may never see my mother again? Ella doesn't even have a mom and she's doing okay, so why am I letting this bother me?
My mother can go to hell. And so can Ella.
She was right. We never should've pretended to be friends, because we're not, and never will be.
Chapter Twelve
Ella
"You really have a date tonight?" Briggs asks, catching me before I go in the cafeteria.
"Yes. Why? You don't believe me?"
He smirks. "You gotta admit, it IS a little hard to believe."
"Go to hell," I try to open the door, but he holds it shut.
"We need to meet for our assignment."
"I told you I'd do it myself," I snap. "Now open the damn door. I have to hurry and eat so I can go study."
"Why don't you just study tonight?" he asks, leaning against the door.
"Because I have a date," I say, enunciating each word.
"Who's the guy? Anyone I know?"
"You really think I'd date anyone you know?"
"Um, excuse me, can I get past?"
I turn and see Calvin standing there, nervously biting his lip as he stares at the ground.
Briggs steps aside and lets Calvin through. I go to follow him, but Briggs pulls me back.
"We're not done talking," he says, his mouth by my ear, his hand gripping my arm.
"Let me go," I say through gritted teeth.
"What the hell is your problem? Just a few days ago we were hanging out at my house, and now you won't even meet to do the assignment?"
I glare at him. "You're right. Things changed, and it's because I realized I can't trust you. You make me think we're friends, or more than that, and then you turn on me and tell Parker I'm a virgin, and then tell your girlfriend to throw coffee on my ass so it looks like I shit my pants. And after all that, you expect me to go back to how things were?"
"For the last time, I didn't fucking tell Parker anything, and I didn't tell Aubrey and Scarlett to throw coffee on you. I stopped them from doing it. If you want to accuse me of something, at least back it up with evidence instead of making shit up."
I think he might be telling the truth, but I still don't trust him.
I sigh. "When do you want to meet?"
"Saturday at seven. My father will be at an event for one of his clients. We'll have the house to ourselves."
"That's probably not a good idea," I mutter, looking away, because whenever I look in his eyes, or even just at his face, I get that feeling again, the one I get when he kisses me, or touches me. It's like my body anticipates what's coming so it starts feeling that way before we even do anything.
"I don't think we need to worry about that," Briggs says, "now that you have a boyfriend."
"He's not—" I decide not to tell him it's a blind date. He almost seems jealous about this guy, which makes no sense, but even so, I like hearing that hint of jealousy in his voice whenever he mentions my date. "I'll be there at seven. Now will you move out of the way?"
He steps aside, and just as I'm reaching for the door, it swings open and Aubrey walks through, followed by Scarlett and Parker.
"Oops!" Aubrey laughs. "I almost hit Trailer Girl with the door."
Scarlett stops just in front of me. "You should go back and do it. Maybe it'd fix her face."
Aubrey stands beside Scarlett, both of them staring at me. "Does she even have makeup on?"
"No, but she should," Aubrey says. "Who wouldn't want to cover up a face like that?"
"Move out of the way," I say to Scarlett, because she's blocking the door.
"Babe," Scarlett says to Parker, motioning him to come over to her. "I need your opinion."
"What?" he asks with a sigh.
She points to me. "Would a guy ever date something like that?"
"Enough of this shit." Briggs reaches behind Scarlett for the door. "Get out of the fucking way."
Scarlett and Aubrey look back at him.
"I didn't even see you there," Scarlett says. "But since you're here, offer your opinion. Would a guy ever go out with that?" She points to me.
"Stop wasting my fucking time," Briggs says, getting angry. "If you don't move on your own, I'll be doing it for you."
"You're such an ass, Briggs," Scarlett says, not moving out of the way. She looks over at Aubrey. "You should be happy you're not with him anymore. You could do so much better."
"I know, right?" Aubrey flips her hair, then eyes Briggs like she still wants him.
"Let's go," Parker says, taking Scarlett's arm.
"Not until you answer my question."
"I don't give a fuck. Let's go."
Briggs gets between Scarlett and me. "Move out of the fucking way. I don't have time for your games."
Scarlett and Aubrey look at each other, then glance at Parker before looking back at Briggs.
"Go ahead," Scarlett says, stepping aside. She and Aubrey watch as I follow Briggs into the cafeteria.
They know something's up. Briggs and Parker didn't go along with their little game, which has never happened before. In the past, both of them would've played along, telling me how disgusting I am and how no guy would ever touch me.
Briggs didn't stand up for me just now, but at least he ended it. Maybe he was telling the truth and really didn't have anything to do with what happened in the cafeteria. And maybe he really did stop Aubrey and Scarlett from throwing coffee on me. I want to believe that, but I won't let my
self. A guy likes Briggs Chadwick doesn't change.
"I can't believe you're making me do this," I say to Charlotte as I put on my mascara. It's Friday night and almost time for me to leave for the blind date she's making me go on.
"It's just one date." Charlotte's voice booms from my phone, which I put on speaker so I could finish getting ready. "And maybe you'll like him. You might even think he's cute."
"You need to learn how to go on dates alone." I run the flat iron over my hair, then wonder why I'm going to all this trouble for a date with a guy I don't know and will never see again.
"It's only the first date that makes me nervous. And it's only with guys I really like."
Charlotte met this guy last weekend at a charity auction her parents made her go to. The guy's a senior, like us, but his cousin, the guy she set me up with, is a freshman in college. She offered to pay me a hundred dollars to do this, which is nothing to her, but I wouldn't take her money. I'll do this as her friend, but I'm dreading it. I've never been on a blind date, but I've never heard anyone say anything good about them.
The only bright side of tonight is that it might take my mind off the accident. It seems like I'm always thinking about it, even in my sleep. Almost every night I have nightmares about it, and when I'm awake, I keep expecting a cop to show up at my door and put me in jail.
When I'm not thinking about the accident, I'm thinking about Briggs, and what it felt like when he kissed me, and touched me. I hate that my mind goes there, and that it keeps going there even when I tell it to stop. I also hate that I somehow managed to have feelings for a guy who treated me like shit for years.
"I'm wearing the red dress instead of the black one," Charlotte says. "Or maybe I should wear the black one. What do you think?"
"Why are you wearing a dress? I thought we were having dinner and playing mini golf."
"What does that have to do with wearing a dress?"
"You won't feel strange playing mini golf in a dress?"
"No. What else would I wear? I can't wear jeans. They make my butt look huge."
"They actually don't, and even if they did, big butts are in right now. You should go with the jeans."
"You really think so?"
"Definitely. That's what I'm wearing."
"Okay, I'm changing again. I'm gonna finish getting ready. I'll be there soon."
She's picking me up and we're meeting the guys at the restaurant. It's an upscale diner, which apparently is a thing. The guy Charlotte's going out with suggested it.
"Have fun!" my dad says, as I'm racing out the door. Usually he'd want to meet my date, but he decided he didn't need to after I told him I have no interest in the guy and am only doing this for Charlotte.
"Do I look okay?" Charlotte asks, as I get in her car. Her hair is down and curled, and she's wearing her tightest pair of jeans and a white sweater.
"You look great, but aren't you worried about spilling on your sweater?"
"No. Should I be?" she asks, sounding panicked.
"Don't worry about it. I shouldn't have said anything."
As she's pulling out onto the street, a text from Briggs pops up on my phone. Good luck on your date.
Is he being sarcastic? Why would I need luck?
"Who's it from?" Charlotte asks.
"Nobody," I say, shutting my phone off.
"You say that a lot lately. Is there something you're not telling me?"
"No. You're being paranoid."
"Was it Briggs?" She laughs.
"Briggs? Why would you think it's from Briggs?
"The way your face looked when you read it. You looked all angry and annoyed. He's usually the only person who makes you look that way."
"All the A's make me look that way. We should go back to calling Briggs A1. We shouldn't be using his actual name."
"I like this name. I like how it sounds."
"It sounds stupid. Like an old man."
"I think it sounds regal." She gets this dreamy smile on her face. "And strong."
"Did you forget you're on your way to a date? With a guy who isn't Briggs?"
"I know. I just find myself thinking about him sometimes, wondering what it'd be like to go out with him."
"Well, since that's probably not going to happen, maybe stop thinking about him and think about your date instead. What's his name again?"
"Asher. And you're going out with Steven."
"Steve. Got it."
"Not Steve," she says. "It's Steven. He hates being called Steve."
"What's the difference?"
"He just doesn't like it. Asher said we are not to call him Steve or it could ruin our whole evening."
"This guy sounds great," I say, rolling my eyes.
"It's only for a few hours, and I promise I'll never make you go out with him again."
We get to the restaurant and the guys are already there. Asher is tall and thin with dark hair. Steve, or Steven, is shorter and more muscular with light brown hair and brown eyes. He's not bad looking, but I'm already turned off knowing he gets mad if you call him Steve.
The guys picked a booth instead of a table so I'm stuck sitting right next to Steve. He smells weird, like fir trees mixed with grilled burgers, or maybe that's his cologne.
"Charlotte says you're going to Harvard," Steven says, putting his arm up behind me.
"I don't know yet. I applied, but I haven't been accepted."
"I go to Stanford," he says, like that should impress me.
"I applied there too." I open my menu. "What are you getting?"
He leans over and whispers, "Hopefully YOU by the end of the night."
I cough and move over. "Yeah, that's not happening. Charlotte, would you mind going to the restroom with me?"
She doesn't answer. I don't think she heard me. She's too enthralled with whatever Asher is saying.
"Charlotte?" I say, trying to get her attention.
"Let them talk," Steven says, moving closer to me, smiling at me like he's already imagining the things we'll be doing later. He puts his hand on my thigh and smiles. "You ever been with a college guy?"
I shove his hand off of me. "Get out of the booth."
"Why?"
"I'm not feeling good. I need to go."
"You're what?" Charlotte says, looking over at me.
"I have a really bad headache. I'm gonna go."
"But we just got here."
"I know. Sorry. I just need to get out of here. Steve, I really need you to move."
"Steve?" he says, like I just called him a dirty name. He looks at Asher. "Didn't you tell her not to call me that?"
"I told Charlotte. She was supposed to tell her."
"I did!" Charlotte pushes on him. "Get out. Hurry up."
Asher and Steven get out of the booth.
"For the record," I say to Steven. "Getting that angry about being called Steve is strange. I don't even get that mad when people call me Trailer Girl, which is a lot worse that Steve." I look over at Asher. "Nice meeting you."
As I'm leaving, Charlotte races after me. "What's going on? Why are you leaving?"
"Because all Steve wanted was sex and I wasn't going to sit there all night while he put his hands all over me."
She follows me outside.
"He put his hands on you? He just met you."
"Exactly." I stop before we get to the parking lot. "I'm sorry I have to leave, but there was no way that guy was going to stop. And then I'd have to punch him, which would ruin the entire evening."
"I'm sorry." Her shoulders slump. "I didn't know he was like that. Asher isn't that way at all."
"It's fine. I wasn't expecting much."
"How are you going to get home?"
"I'll call my dad. Go inside and finish your date."
"It's going to be weird with just the three of us."
"Then tell Steve to go home."
"And be alone with Asher?"
"I don't know what you're worried about. You were doing great. Ash
er really likes you."
"You really think so?" she asks, her face lighting up.
"Totally. Go back in there and tell Steve to get lost."
She laughs. "I'll figure it out. You sure you don't want me to call you a ride? I'll pay for it."
"My dad will get me. Go. Have fun on your date."
When she's back in the restaurant, I call my dad.
"Honey, what's wrong?" he asks, assuming I'd only call during a date if something bad happened.
"Nothing. Hey, are you at home?"
"No. I'm out with Susan. Why?"
"Oh, um, I just wondered if I left my sweatshirt there. I thought I brought it, but I can't find it. Never mind. I probably won't need it. I'll see you when you get home."
"You sure you're okay?"
"I'm fine. Have a good time!"
Now what am I going to do? I could call a rideshare, but I have this irrational fear the driver's going to take me to some remote place and kill me. I saw a story about that on the news, and ever since then, I've been afraid to call one when I'm alone. But I don't really have a choice, unless...no, I can't do that. He's only a few miles from here, but still, it's a horrible idea.
So then why am I calling him?
"Ella?" he answers in his deep, sexy voice. "Aren't you supposed to be on a date?"
"I was, but I left early. Is there any way you could come pick me up?"
"Why?" he asks, suddenly sounding concerned. "What happened? Did he—"
"Nothing happened. It just didn't work out and I don't have a ride home. My dad's out with his girlfriend and I have this thing about rideshares. Anyway, could you just pick me up? I'm not that far from your house."
"Yeah, I guess. Where are you?"
I give him the name of the restaurant. "But don't come here. I'll wait down the street."
"Why can't I pick you up at the restaurant?"
"I don't want Charlotte seeing us."
"Charlotte's there?"
"It was a double date. Could you just hurry up and get me? There's a gas station at the corner. I'll wait down there."
He shows up ten minutes later, which means he left as soon as we hung up. I thought he'd make me wait an hour, or maybe not even show up.
"Thanks," I say, getting in his Porsche. It never has a speck of dirt on it. He must wash it every day.
