Pretty Lies: A contemporary YA Romance (Astrid Scott Series Book 1)

by Blake Blessing

  Freda was the only car in the garage and it was silent except for some tinkering around the hood. I knocked twice on the door to signal my arrival.

  “Beck?” My fingers skimmed the side of my baby as I walked around to the front. Beck was wiping down the new light with a cleanish rag, bobbing his head to whatever music played in his earbuds.

  I stepped back out of his view and opened the camera on my phone, snapping a few pictures I could study in more detail later. Taking pictures became this weird obsession that developed when I got my first phone. Body language was a fascinating thing and I loved to study the story it told from the privacy of my own room. And his story intrigued me.

  Satisfied with the quick shots, I shoved the phone in my back pocket and moved back into Beck’s line of sight. This time, he looked up and jerked one of the ear buds out.

  “Hey, you’re just in time.” He smoothed a hand over the shiny new light.

  My fingers tightened over the plastic bag as it set in that I really wasn’t going to get in trouble for this. I smiled and asked, “How much would this have normally cost?”

  “Don’t worry about it, it’s on me.” He stood, tucking the rag in the back pocket of his suit.

  “Fine, but I’ll bring you cookies or something. I can make a mean cinnamon chocolate chip cookie.”

  “I won’t turn away cookies.” He patted his stomach, then handed back my keys. “It was nice to meet you, Astrid.”

  The keys were warm from his pocket, a library card the only thing on the keychain. I’d have to add some personalized keychains soon.

  I shuffled to the door, determined to avoid any more awkward silences. My gaze met his as I was pulling my legs inside the jeep.

  He opened his mouth to say something, but a loud crash came from the back of the shop. I glanced toward the back entrance as a skinny, disheveled woman fell through. She clumsily shoved matted hair away from her face as she tugged on her misbuttoned shirt, that was only half tucked into her pants.

  “Ma, what are you doing here?” A vein stood out in Beck’s neck as he twisted like he was going to go to her, but then turned back to me. “I think it’s time for you to go. Don’t worry about cookies or any kind of payback.” He shut my door and went to his mother, grabbing her shoulders to hold her up.

  Heat hit my cheeks at being so thoroughly dismissed. I got it. Family problems were the worst, but the abrupt change still stung.

  To soothe my pride, I turned on Green Day’s American Idiot album for the ride home.

  The night went about as great as the evening started. Dinner was late regardless of getting the chicken there on time. Dad ignored Mother Dearest while we ate and she, well, she made plenty of comments on how I never listened and how I wasn’t going to make anything of myself if I couldn’t use common sense. All things that made me want to go Lizzy Borden on her ass with my fork.

  Now at seven in the morning, the parentals would just be getting out of bed. The downstairs was completely dark, only the hum of the refrigerator could be heard. My gaze flitted to their bedroom door as I quietly slipped on my shoes. I breathed easier when the fresh morning air hit my lungs and I jogged down the steps.

  School started at seven forty, and it was only a ten-minute drive to school, but I liked getting there early. No one seemed to stare as much when you were already inside the school. None of that cliché crap where students all stop and gawk at the new kid, picking apart their ride and choice of clothing for the day.

  I whipped into a spot at the back, far away from the other two cars in the lot. The school was a regular high school, nothing fancy or modern, and the lawn was well manicured because half of the school district fell over the rich side of town. My family fell right in the middle. We weren’t poor, but we would probably be on the lower end of middle class.

  It wasn’t a big deal, we made it work. I worked in the summer and bought all of my school clothes. That was actually a perk, because I could get what I actually liked. If it were up to my mother, I’d be dressing in sweater sets and khaki pants.

  The door popped open easily and my steps echoed in the hallway as I headed toward my locker. First period was conveniently located next to the library, so that’s where I’d spend the next thirty minutes. I grabbed my books and slammed the door shut.

  Shoes squeaking down the hallway caught my attention and I glanced through the strands of my hair. I tried not to be super obvious I was watching but I had just shut my locker. Frayed edges of stray papers were sticking out of my math book, I fidgeted with those so I wouldn’t be the weirdo kid facing the locker.

  Four guys in gym shorts and wife beaters were strolling down the hallway like they owned the school. Hell, they probably did. Like every school, the jocks reigned at the top.

  Someone said something funny because they busted up laughing, and one of the guys broke away to make some skating motion down the hallway.

  “Dude, that party last weekend was killer. You think Remy will be able to host them on the reg?” The guy closest to me asked.

  “Her parents are divorced now, so good chance.” Another responded.

  “You would not believe the things she did with her mouth.” The first guy moaned under his breath. “Little Remy got some practice somewhere this summer.”

  They were passing directly behind me, and my shoulders relaxed, because soon I could disappear into the shelves of books.

  A shoulder collided with the locker next to me, scaring the ever-loving crap out of me. I jumped a foot in the air and backpedaled away from whoever invaded my space. Hands clasped my shoulders, stopping me in my tracks.

  The guy in front of me leaned against the locker with his arms and ankles crossed, a cocky smirk gracing his lips. Nice, the four jocks decided I was a fun distraction. I’d seen him around. Brent, I think his name was, was a senior. The hands never left my body, instead sliding down to cup my arms. When I glanced up, a red head with a curly fro and gap-toothed grin stared down at me.

  “You’re the new girl. What’s your name? Aslin, or Anna, or something?” The red head pursed his lips in concentration.

  Note to self. Duck lips was not an attractive thinking face.

  “Astrid.” I pulled away from his grasp but he held strong.

  “What’s with the flowy pajama pants. Are those the in thing, right now?” Curly asked.

  “It’s boho.”

  “The training room is empty for a while, want to go with us and get to know each other better?” Smarm smothered his voice like southern gravy over fried chicken.

  Like I would ever put out just because I was the new girl. Yeah, no.

  “I don’t think so. I have somewhere to be, anyway.” I pulled away again, but the guy’s fingers dug into the meat of my arm. “You need to let go.” My voice lowered to barely above a whisper and my pulse sped up.

  “We’re having fun. Want to welcome the new girl. Hasn’t anyone given you a warm welcome yet?” Brent pushed off the lockers.

  “No, I can’t say I’ve had a welcome quite like this, and sorry, but I don’t want this one either.” I snark and stomped down on red head’s foot.

  “Shit, you bitch!” he released me, and I immediately sidestepped the group, turning to face them.

  The other two guys were hanging back looking uncomfortable. No, only the shrimp of the group looked nervous as he glanced up and down the deserted hallway. The other was at least half a head taller than the other three, with dirty blonde hair and blue eyes. He didn’t look uncomfortable; he was massively angry. His hands were clenched into tight fists at his sides and he was sending giant stabby daggers at curly and Brent.

  “Don’t come near me again. Any of you.” I made eye contact with each guy.

  Brent and redhead pierced me with a look that said I will end you, shrimpy blushed like he wasn’t sure how he got here. Then there was Ragnar. Not really, I didn’t know what his name actually was, but with his blond hair and blue eyes, he reminded me of a Viking. His thunderous expre
ssion also lent to that outcome.

  I backed up slowly at first, testing to see if they would follow me. Brent and redhead started to take a step forward but Ragnar punched an arm out, knocking red head into Brent. He muttered something too low for me to hear and shook his head. Then they stopped and whispered back and forth.

  Taking advantage of their distraction, I spun on my heels and ran toward the library. Did running make me look like a coward? Yeah, maybe. But I did not like being the center of attention and even more, I hated being the object of other’s jokes.

  And those guys, they were trying to one, get some, and two, turn me into the next victim of their games. No thank you.

  The library here was something pretty amazing for a high school. I swore it was almost as big as the auditorium, with shelves so high, a ladder was needed to pluck the highest books. There were comfy chairs arranged in nice seating areas dispersed throughout the space. I got what the school was trying to do here, encourage a college like setting to prompt the students to hang out and study. Luckily for me, most of the kids didn’t step foot in here. At least, they hadn’t this week when I was finding refuge among the dusty pages.

  I plopped down on a cracked leather chair in the corner, next to a window overlooking the lawn. Students had begun to filter into the parking lot, milling around and talking to their friends. My phone was still in my back pocket so I shifted sideways to grab it. The first thing I did was pop open the camera app and scroll through my pictures.

  Beck filled the screen and I paused. I had forgotten I’d taken these pictures of him. The angle of the camera had caught him almost in side profile, but not quite. Calm contentment radiated from the picture as he wiped down the car. It was a good picture.

  I played with the filters and color settings until it was a warm, comforting picture. Whenever I looked at it now, I’d wish I could hang out with him and bask in his mellow vibes.

  Before I knew it, the bell was ringing, signaling first period. I gathered up my things and headed for the door. My phone buzzed in my hand and when I checked it, a smile sliding over my face.

  Stace: Hey girl. What’s up?

  My previous school was my home for four years, from eighth grade through eleventh. I had one friend and that friend was Stace. Where I loved to catch people unaware, she loved to track people online and stalk their social media accounts. We’ve joked that between the two of us, we should open a private investigation firm when we graduated. Who knew, that could be the plan that gained my independence.

  Astrid: Going to class. Where you should be rn

  “Oof,” the air rushed out of me as I collided with a guy by the door.

  My phone flew out of my hand and slid over to the wall with a thump. Papers and books flew everywhere, but not from me. They were from the guy I accidentally crashed into. I scrambled around, trying to help him pick up his things but there were so. Many. Papers.

  “I’m so sorry. I didn’t see you.” His features were hidden but he had a thick head of light brown hair that was slightly wavy on top. Thick, black framed glasses covered his face. When he glanced up his lip curled in a disgusted sneer.

  Well, excuse me.

  “If you were paying attention to what you were doing rather than looking on your phone this wouldn’t have happened. We’re going to be late now. It’s assembly day. So, thanks.” Sarcasm dripped from his words.

  What had been embarrassed remorse, catapulted into right bitchiness. “What the fuck ever. If you had been watching you could have side stepped me easily. I wasn’t running any sprints.”

  I shoved all the papers I had gathered to his chest, then snatched my phone with an extra huff, leaving him alone on the floor.

  It was a freaking accident. He acted like I stomped on his pocket protector while burning his favorite instruction manuals. Whatever, I tried to apologize and do the nice thing. If he wanted to be a dick about it, I wouldn’t go out on any limbs to make nice.

  Homeroom was teeming with teenage pheromones as I skated through the door. I made it right before the bell rang. Assigned seats had me sitting in the back, thankfully. My bag thumped against the floor as I sat. People still chatted and stood in half circles while they waited for the teacher. Although, homeroom was so lax at this school, yesterday the teacher never even showed up before the next bell rang.

  A short, stout man opened the door and poked his head in, the fluorescent lights reflecting off his bald head. “Listen up, hell spawn. The pep rally is about to start in five minutes. I’ve marked you all down. Go ahead and make your way toward the gym.”

  He stood back, holding the door open. Good thing, because there was a high chance he could have been trampled by these over anxious students. The room was completely cleared in thirty seconds, leaving me to hurry behind them.

  The trick to staying under the radar was generally staying in the middle of the masses. Don’t be the first to walk in, and don’t be the last. That way you blend in with everyone else. After that point, you can settle in the back shadows.

  Drums, trumpets and whatever instruments were in the marching band played upbeat music, hyping up the team spirit. My old school had pep rallies too, but the scene I walked into seemed off the charts. The band stood on either side of the court as students climbed the bleachers. Cheerleaders and jocks all congregated in the center of the gym, waiting for the fun to begin. Would they be performing for us? Making us feel all bright and shiny, happy to be a part of this school?

  Gag.

  I climbed to the middle of the bleachers and sat on the end. I opened my camera app and snapped some pictures of the floor and then some of the people around me. I’d gotten pretty good at being inconspicuous the last couple years. If I smiled and pretended to take a selfie, no one would ever notice. And yes, I looked ridiculous but I got the pictures I wanted, so at the end of the day, it didn’t bother me any.

  An air horn blared through the gym and for once, everyone shut up. The crazy intense energy ratcheted even higher as the crowd leaned forward. Whatever was about to happen, they were stoked.

  A tapping on the microphone echoed around the room and when I glanced down at the podium placed in the center of the court, the guy I bumped into was there, red faced and flustered.

  Well, shit.

  “Good morning, students of Silver Ranch High. As most of you know, my name is Jonah Perez, and I’m the current student body president. With this new year, we wanted to start things off right, and what better way than to have a SRHS style pep rally.” He cleared his throat and the red in his face turned a deep shade of tomato.

  The poor guy looked super uncomfortable up there. I was also pretty sure the papers he dropped were his notes, because he sounded a little lost and robotic.

  “Just a few announcements before we get the fun started. Nominations for student leadership positions will be collected during homeroom on Friday, and clubs will officially resume September fourteenth. There are two new clubs, Chess Club and Magic Club. If you are interested in joining, please contact Alicia Haven. Now. The sports of Silver Ranch. We have the Football team,” Jonah threw an arm out to encompass a group of burly guys in oversized jerseys.

  At his introduction, they roared and flexed their arms. Even from this distance, I could see the veins sticking out on their necks and forearms. Yes, fellas, you are the epitome of masculinity.

  The crowd of students went crazy over their show, spinning blue and white handkerchiefs in the air. On the floor, the guys arranged into a loose diamond formation and proceeded to dance, in a poor imitation of the cheerleaders.

  They wrapped up their cheer with more yelling and fist pumps. Jonah stepped back up to the podium. “Thank you, football team for that impressive display. Although not supported through the school, we have the local hockey team, the Grizzlies,” Jonah tossed out his arm to the opposite side of the gym.

  These guys were more professional athletes and less drunk college frat guys. They still did the whooping and stomping but they
were way more reserved about it. It must have been a thing because they moved into their own formation, and I recognized the four guys from this morning. These boys were front and center, with Ragnar in the lead position.

  Music filtered through the speakers, and when the beat dropped, so did my chin. These boys could dance. Like legit dance. Giggles bubbled out of me, and the girl sitting next to me scowled. They had skills, but something about big Viking Ragnar, breaking it down to a Post Malone song was hilarious.

  After the hockey team it was the dance team, then the cheerleaders. Another hour of pumping us up before they sent us back to class, which was coincidentally the beginning of third period.

  A goofy grin adorned my face as I headed down the hallway. I wasn’t expecting to enjoy that as much as I had, I couldn’t deny it was a good time. And while I would never want to be on the court, viewing from the bleachers was just fine.

  My locker was on the way, so I stopped to swap out some books. There were kids walking around with a damned turtle shell on their back, holding all their books and notebooks for each class. No, thank you. I valued my good posture and healthy spine.

  By the time I got to fourth period, I was actually pumped. Art class. Undoubtedly, it was my favorite class of the day. I sucked at still life and anything hand drawn, but I loved being in the atmosphere of art. And I loved photography.

  There was something so calm and accepting in any art teacher I’d had. Everyone in my mom and dad’s world were posers. It was all about status. Who had the better paying jobs, who had the better connections. And most importantly, who gave the biggest donations at church. Ironic, since Dad didn’t make that much and neither did Mother Dearest.

  With Dad, the ability and willingness to donate were the most important qualities in a person. I was sure Mother Dearest had a list of the deepest pockets in the congregation and which ones had sons similar in age.