The Mean Girl and the Bad Boy #2: Echo and Artist

by Reighan Storm

  He was silent on the other end for a few seconds before he spoke again.

  “Alright, just don’t expect me to sit home and do nothing. I’m going to the party and have a good time, with or without you.”

  Was that supposed to be some kind of threat? I didn’t get a chance to even ask because he’d hung up on me.

  “Trouble in paradise?” Artist asks, and I flip him the bird for even talking to me.

  He roams about my room, looking at things with his hands behind his back as if he were at a museum or art show. I keep an eye on him as I text the girls back in our group chat to make sure he doesn’t touch or steal anything.

  They’re talking about going to Luke’s party and keeps trying to beg me to go. I have a feeling that Jesse might have said something to them, but who knows. Ashleigh tells me to call her if I change my mind. I wish it were just a mind thing.

  “You weren’t lying about being a fan of Grease, were you?” Artist studies my framed movie poster of Olivia Newton-John and John Travolta. “I heard there was a part 2…, not a fan?”

  “Gosh, no!” I roll my eyes just thinking about it. “Part 2 was like a knockoff of the original. It was horrible.” He chuckles at my misery as he holds the DVD of the original in his hands.

  “What do you think? Since we’re stuck here together anyway, we might as well make use of the time.”

  “What about your bestie? Won’t she feel left out?” I tease him. I couldn’t care less about Penelope and her feelings, and there was no way I would turn down a chance to watch the greatest classic ever.

  “Given the circumstances, I’m sure she’ll understand—”

  “Don’t you dare tell her or any other living soul that you’ve ever seen the inside of my bedroom,” I warn him.

  “Fine,” he sulks and sits on the edge of my bed, uninvited. “Lately, I don’t think I’m one of Penelope’s favorite people.” He faces me. “We were having dinner at the park the other night—”

  “Please don’t.” I hold my hand up to stop him from talking. “We’re not friends, and I don’t feel like pretending that I’m listening to you. If you want to watch the movie, fine. We can do that, but that’s it.”

  Artist shrugs and tosses me the DVD to put on, and I do. He also asks if I had anything we could take notes with. Duh! Who doesn’t? I prefer to use my phone, but he wanted an old fashioned pen and pad.

  “Too bad, we don’t have snacks and drinks.”

  “Who said we didn’t?” I give Artist a sly smile as saunter over to my portable pantry and open up each side, displaying a microwave, minifridge, and snacks galore.

  “No freaking way!” He’s shocked and happy at the same time that he doesn’t have to starve to death in this imprisonment. “I thought you ran out of space in your closet, and that was filled with more clothes.” He chuckles. “What’s in the other one? It’s clothing, right?”

  “What is your fixation with my clothes, nosy? Trust me, my closet is probably bigger than your entire house.”

  “You know what?” He cocks his head to the side as he peers at me. “I’m not even offended because it just might be true. Seriously, what’s in there?”

  “My business,” I giggle because he sincerely wanted to know so bad.

  “It’s cool,” he says, making himself way too comfortable on my bed as he leans back onto both his elbows. “I’m pretty sure I already know what’s in there.”

  “No way, you know,” I say with a raised eyebrow.

  “If I guess right, you have to go with me.”

  “Go with you where?”

  “Inside there.” He points to my DreamBox.

  “You’re a weirdo. I’ll give you one guess.”

  “Narnia.”

  “What?” I laugh.

  “That’s what’s inside the wardrobe, isn’t it? That’s why you're so secretive. If you open it, and we go inside, it’ll transport us to the magical world of Narnia.”

  “Your imagination… is that of a child.” I laugh and quickly cover my mouth with both hands.

  “I’ll make a deal with you,” he says. “Open it up, and if you ever need math help, I’m your guy.”

  “Fine.” I couldn’t deny such a sweet deal because he just doesn’t know I’m gonna probably need all the help I can get. “Just don’t laugh or make any stupid remarks.”

  “Scout’s honor,” he says, holding up two fingers splayed apart, and my eyes narrow at him in bewilderment.

  “You were in Boy Scouts?” I glance at him sideways. “Isn’t it supposed to be three fingers?”

  “Cub Scouts, in elementary… two-finger salute.” He seemed so proud of it, which makes me giggle.

  “You’re such a nerd.” I walk over to my DreamBox and open each side, one by one… slowly. He sits up with his mouth agape.

  “Freaking wow.” He strides over, eyes huge as he gazes at everything inside. “It’s definitely not Narnia, but it’s still magical. How the hell does all this shit fit inside here and fold up so tiny. What do you do with all this stuff?” He runs his fingers over my Washi tape, and I smack the back of his hand like a toddler.

  “Don’t touch!”

  “Sorry.” He holds both hands up. “What is all this stuff? The only thing I recognize is the sewing machine.” He glances up at me. “You sew?”

  “No,” I say sarcastically. “I needed something to fill that spot.” I push him away and close it back up. “Alright, time for the movie!” I say excitedly as I grab a bottled water and a small bag of already popped popcorn.

  “Wait—what are you doing?” Artist stops me, grabbing my arm. “You have a whole microwave here, with movie-style popcorn to pop.”

  “Okay? Help yourself.” I didn’t understand his point.

  “Are you sharing that?” He points to my small bag of white cheddar popcorn.

  “No, this is me-sized.”

  “Me-sized?” He repeats.

  “Yes, just big enough for me.”

  He chuckles. “Where’s the fun in that? When you’re at the movies, you have to get a huge tub of popcorn to share.”

  “This isn’t a theater, Artist.”

  “Tell that to the size of your television screen and your surround sound system.” He snatches my bag of popcorn from my hands.

  “But I wanted white cheddar… not the movie butter… whatever the heck you said.”

  “I got you, just put the movie on.”

  I playfully roll my eyes to the ceiling like I’m annoyed. The truth is, I’m not. Not in the least bit. Or maybe it’s just that I get to watch my favorite movie with someone who at least seems a bit excited about it as I am. No way Jesse would dare sit and watch it with me. I’ve pestered Ben into watching it with me a couple of times. I knew he wasn’t interested either, because he was on his phone playing a game mostly.

  I plunk down at the head of my bed with my remote in hand and ready. Artist sits a huge bowl next to me as he sinks himself onto my bed, kicking his shoes off.

  “Whoa, what are you doing?” I lean my body to the left, away from him. “I do not want to smell funky boy feet while eating my popcorn.”

  “Well, it’s a good thing I don’t have foot odor then.” He lifts his leg and wiggles his toes through his white socks. “My mom uses Gain.”

  “All boys have foot odor.”

  “Don’t be sexist, Echo. If all boys have foot odor, then that means that all girls do too.”

  “I don’t!” I say feeling a bit self-conscience now.

  “I’ll be the judge,” he says, lunging for my feet, and I kick him, knocking him off the bed. He's dramatic, though, because I didn’t even kick him that hard.

  “Gross!” I tuck my feet underneath me in case he tries again. He gets back onto the bed, laughing so hard, and I try my best not to. I don’t want to let him think I might half-way be enjoying myself… just a little… maybe.

  5/Artist

  Echo starts the movie, and immediately her fingers find the popcorn bowl. Sh
e tosses a few kernels in her mouth. She grabs the bowl and peers inside, then scowls at me. “Did you really just empty one thousand and one mini bags of my white cheddar popcorn in here?”

  “Absolutely. Smart, right?” I tap my temple and grin. She slaps me in the back of the head and calls me an idiot. “How?” I’m confused as I rub the spot on my head she’d flattened with her hand. It didn’t really hurt, but it was the principle.

  “Did you use all of them?”

  “Yeah.” I didn’t know what the big deal was. She was loaded and could definitely afford to buy more popcorn.

  “Just watch the movie.” She rolls her eyes and splays her fingers wide as if I was disgusting to her. “I have the right mind not to share with you at all.”

  “No way you can eat that whole bowl by yourself,” I chuckle as I try to reach my hand in the bowl and grab a handful for myself. She pulls the container away from me as if I’m on popcorn punishment. I shrug as if it were no big deal. It wasn’t. If she wanted to be stingy with her popcorn, I sure as hell wasn’t gonna beg for it. I grab the pen and pad she’d laid out for me and get ready to take notes on what I knew was going to be a long boring ass movie.

  “Fine,” she says as she sets the bowl between us. “I guess I can share with you.”

  I turn and give her a fake, shocked expression. “Why, thank you, Ms. Bailey,” I say with a Southern drawl. Don’t ask me why it just seemed to fit the occasion.

  The rest of the evening was spent with her either mouthing or acting out various parts of the movie. The movie was okay at best. Especially for it to be as old as it was. Speaking of old, all the characters looked way too old to be playing high school parts. That part was hilarious to me. After I pointed that fact out, Echo seemed to be pissed at me and accused me of missing the point and not taking our assignment seriously. I’d have to say the best part of watching it was watching her enjoy watching it.

  I’m not for sure which one of us dozed off first. Her or me? But when I open my eyes, the movie was over, and Echo lay there looking completely vulnerable. She was curled up in a fetal position, slightly snoring, with her thumb in her mouth. The only thing I could think about was one click of my camera phone, and I could ruin her mean girl career for good.

  That would have to wait because that sodas I drank earlier was running through me, and I needed to head to the bathroom. After coming out, I see Echo’s bedroom doorknob jiggle a little, and it freezes me in my tracks. I wait a few seconds and then creep over to the door and crack it open. That’s when I see Ben unraveling the bungee cord.

  He’s stiff as a board and white as a ghost when he spots me. He shrugs an apology to me, and I nod as I place my index finger to my lip. He cracks a slight grin and then disappears. I slowly ease the door shut and lay back down on the side of Echo’s bed where I was.

  I know. I had finally been released from this prison and was too tired to finally make my escape. It was in the middle of the night, and I was way too exhausted to make it home at this hour anyway. The way I see it, Echo doesn’t know I’m free to go. I’ll be gone in a few hours anyway. Hopefully, before she wakes.

  My alarm rings on my phone, jerking me up. I was already sleeping lightly with one eye half-open as I would sneak a peek, waiting on Dawn to break. Somehow, it never did. Which was odd because my alarm said the sun should be peeking through the drapes.

  I slide off the bed, not to stir Echo. I ease to her window to peer out, and the rising sun almost blinds me. I quickly close them back, wondering what kind of magical crap were those drapes made from that could block out the daylight and make her room appear as if it were still night. I grab my vest and glance back at Echo, still sleeping soundly. Freaking vampire drapes is what it was.

  I haul ass out of that house and walk my bike aways from the house. For some reason, I just didn’t want to face her so early in the morning. It was weird, I know. The whole damn night was strange as hell.

  I make it to the neighbor's house next door. Between a few tall bushes, I notice a particular blueish hue and a familiar voice, urging a dog to hurry up and poo. “Penelope?” I say as I reach the driveway. My mouth hangs slightly ajar from shock.

  “Well, look who’s doing the walk of shame.” She glances over her shoulder at me. The crazy thing is, she didn’t seem to be the least bit surprised by my standing there.

  “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  “Doesn’t take a genius to know you were over there all night, colluding with the enemy.” She nods her head towards Echo’s house.

  “I was not colluding with the enemy.” I lay my bike on the ground and stuff my hands in my pants pockets.

  “Do you even know what colluding means?”

  “Not by pure definition… no.”

  “Then how do you know you weren’t colluding?”

  “I know how to use context clues, okay?” I try to joke a little to lighten the mood, but it didn’t seem to be working. She still has her back to me, holding a tiny blue bag in her hand. “What’s your dog’s name?” I ask to take the subject off of me leaving Echo’s house so early in the morning that it made sense I’d stayed the night. She has an all-white poodle. I actually thought those dogs had gone extinct. I don’t think I’ve ever seen one in person. Usually just mutts these days or pit bulls.

  “Kat with a K,” she says with her back still to me. Then she turns all the way around to face me. “You’re an ass.” Her head is cocked to the side like she’s studying me over.

  “Wow, that’s harsh. Where’d that come from?” She’s been indifferent toward me since that time at the park, and I still don’t know why.

  “You do a lot of assuming. They say when you do that… you’re an ass.” My mouth opens and closes without making a sound. “You assumed this was my dog.” She points to the poodle.

  “So, it isn’t your dog?”

  “Of course, she’s my dog… that’s beside the point, Art.” I continue to stand there in silence, waiting for her to make her point, as she called it. “You assumed I didn’t live here.” She points to her house behind her.

  “How the hell was I supposed to know where you lived? We never discussed it.” My brows furrow together as I try to contain my getting upset. I’m not even sure why the hell we’re in this argument right now. She’s not my girlfriend. She’s barely a friend at this point. We’ve just met, and already she’s going off on me for what I feel she has no reason to.

  “You’re right; we never discussed it before you assumed my financial status.”

  My eyes shoot to the ground. I think I understand now.

  “Well, maybe you should have told me that you and Echo we’re neighbors. That would have cleared up a lot of things.”

  “Why does it matter? You assumed because of the car I choose to drive and the way I want to dress that my parents weren’t well off. You’re so stereotypical. As if all rich people should act like brats or bitches!”

  “Yeah… okay.” I pick up my bike because I was at a loss for words. I did assume those things. Her and Echo were different as night and day. I recall the things I said at the park in my head as I ride home on my motorcycle. All the bad things I said about Echo and referring to rich people in the way I did, I’m guessing now that Penny had felt personally attacked.

  Well, I feel betrayed. I shared a part of me with her that day, and not once did she share back. She shut down and basically kicked me out of her shitty car. She could have stopped me from talking and come clean about who she really was.

  To hell with it. Like I said before, I’m not here to make friends, be it male or female. I’m just here to graduate because that’s all mom really wants. After that, I’m free to do whatever the hell I want.

  After I pull into my drive, I don’t prop my bike against the side of the house. I just let it fall wherever the hell it wants and make my way into the house. “Perfect timing,” my mom sings as her voice trails from the kitchen. I have my foot on the first step, ready and eager to ret
reat to my room and chill there for the remainder of the freaking day.

  “For?” I sigh hard and turn around as she makes her way from the kitchen and stands next to me as she wipes her hands on a kitchen towel.

  “Breakfast.” Breakfast lately has consisted of some type of bread. For instance, toast, bagel, or an English muffin. Usually dry. If, by chance, it had margarine on it… well, I counted that as a luxury. But then again, it was a luxury to have anything besides toast. Not that I’m complaining. “I figured since we both finally have some time to spend together, I’d make you a big Sunday breakfast, and we can catch up.”

  “Sure, mom. I’d kinda like to shower and wash yesterday off first if that’s okay?”

  “Of course, ten minutes, though. I don’t want the food to be finished before you.” She chuckles a bit, and then I noticed she’s fully dressed. That was unusual for an early Sunday morning for her.

  “Why are you dressed so early?”

  “I had to run out and grab some ingredients I needed.” She shoos me by fanning the kitchen towel my way and tells me to hurry.

  After showering, I come back down wearing my favorite pajama pants that mom had gotten for me two Christmases ago and a plain white tee. The first thing she does when she sees me is to complain about me walking around in white socks without slippers. It made me crack a slight smile thinking back to last night when Echo said that all guys had stinky feet.

  “What’s so funny?” My mom asks me as I have a seat at the kitchen table. “You’re laughing because you don’t do laundry.”

  “I can do my own laundry, mom, it’s just that you always beat me to it.”

  “Well, maybe that’s because you take so long to get to it, babe.” She sets my plate in front of me and sits opposite me at the table. She’s made a Quiche with biscuits and a side of mixed berries.