The Mean Girl and the Bad Boy
Echo & Artist
Reighan Storm
Copyright © 2020 Reighan Storm
All rights reserved
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.
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ISBN-10:
Printed in the United States of America
Contents
Title Page
Copyright
1/Artist
2/Echo
3/Artist
4/Echo
5/Artist
Thank you for reading!
1/Artist
I lie on my bed, wallowing in my own miserable existence, as I rip sheets of paper from a notebook beside me. I crumble each piece into balls and toss them around my room as they collect with the others I’d previously thrown.
Why? I don’t know. I think just the sound of ripping and crumpling paper just seemed to soothe me at the moment. It was better than beating the shit out of the walls who’d done nothing to me. God forbid I put a hole in mom’s precious memories.
To be honest, I feel as though I’m stuck. I never wanted to come to this trash ass town, anyway. But I sure as hell would not let my poor mother go at it alone. And by poor, I mean it in both ways.
I stopped making plans for my life a long time ago when I’d realized that she controlled me. Not just the, do as I say as long as you're under my roof term either. I loved my mother and always wanted to see her happy, especially after so many failed relationships with assholes who promised her the world and never delivered. I guess I shouldn’t say it like that because it makes her sound like a floozy. She’s not. Just my dad and some other asshole that she’d been dating off and on for years. After that, I was determined not to be that guy to add to her broken heart and misery.
Somehow I feel as though she uses that to her advantage, like with the whole college thing and having a family of my own someday. I didn’t see either in my future.
Shit…
I was out of paper and down to the cardboard portion of the notebook. There goes my fun activity for the night. I send it hurling at the wall, and it makes contact with a thud. That was mildly satisfying.
My phone chimes, and I smirk when I see the name on the caller ID. I knew she’d be calling eventually. She’s probably pissed off and wondering why I haven’t called. I chuckle to myself as I answer smugly. “Yeah?”
“Ohmygosh! Is that how you answer the phone?” I can already hear the annoyance and hurt in her voice.
“Uh, yeah… especially when I know it’s you,” I tease.
She’s silent.
And sniffling?
I listen closer.
“I… I… need you…”
Sitting up in my bed, my heart pounds. She needs me? I can tell she’s been crying and just started up again. “Echo, I’m here. What’s wrong?” I feel like such a jerk.
“I need you… to come to pick me up,” she shrieks.
“Yeah, sure… okay. Just tell me where you are.” I jump from my bed and start throwing my clothes on.
“I just sent you my location,” she sniffs, and I do a silent stomping dance of agitation. Why the hell can’t people just use their words for a change. Now I’ll probably have to download some BS onto my phone (which has limited space) when all she had to do was tell me her freaking location. “How soon can you get here?”
I don’t bother her about telling me what’s gotten her so upset. I figured she’d let me know all of that when I get to her.
“Uh, as soon as I can?”
“Yeah, but how long will that take? I need to go now!”
“I don’t know, but I’m getting ready to take off.” I ball my fist and clasp it to my lips, so I don’t say the things I’m thinking. Which is… My freaking teleport machine is broken, so I’ll have to do things the old fashioned way of traveling!
“Okay, but how long?”
I groan internally.
“I don’t know, Echo, but the sooner I get off with you, the sooner I’ll be there.”
“Why can’t you just look at the location I sent? I don’t have any idea where you live or where you’re coming from. That way, you can tell me exactly how many minutes until you get here.”
“It’s still loading,” I tell her after peeking at my screen.
“Loading!? What type of antique… freaking dinosaur… blast from the freaking past… got damn type of phone do you have that it needs to load? Are you out of data?”
“It’s… it’s an android.”
“Oh… well, what is it? A freaking prepaid? Do you need minutes or something?”
“Do you want the fucking ride or not? Because I can do without all the mudslingings on this very phone, you dialed looking for help!”
“Okay… okay… just please hurry.”
“That’s what I’m trying to do.”
I pick my bike up from lying on the ground where I’d dropped it. The thing is… it won’t start. I don’t know if it’s out of gas (because the gage is broken) or is just pissed off at me for tossing it.
“Mom!” I yell as I re-enter the house. I find her lounging in the backroom on the couch watching television. “I need to borrow your car.”
“Are we on speaking terms now that you need something?” She pauses her show and sits up.
“Not now, mom. Can I use it or not?”
“What for? Do you have a hot date?” She smirks, but I’m not amused.
“My bike won’t start. I’m in a hurry because I need to help a friend out of a bind.” I whimper inside as I refer to Echo as a friend.
“Oh! Would this be the same friend—”
“Mother! Yes or no?”
“You can use the car, Artist.” She frowns because I wasn’t in the mood, nor did I have time to waste with her shenanigans. “Just don’t stay out all night because I have work in the morning.”
“And I have school,” I shrug. I grab her keys off the mantle, and head to the location Echo sent me. I don’t know what was so hard to just tell me what restaurant she was at. It would have saved my phone a lot of heartache. And me.
When I reach the restaurant parking lot, I spot Echo by the entrance with her boyfriend. Instantly I’m heated because if she was just going to call him for a ride, she could have just let me be.
That’s when I realized I’m wrong in my thinking. Echo is trying to get away from the asshole as he tugs on her.
Dammit!
Lunging out of the car in a huff, I make my way over to them. I don’t know why I’m as pissed as I am. I guess I just don’t like to see a man mistreating or abusing women. “Hey! Get the hell away from her!”
“Who’s gonna fucking make me? You dick,” Jesse hisses and turns my way.
“I mean… me… duh!” I didn’t know how else to answer that. Or did he even expect an answer? I’m confused here with his question.
“Don’t indulge, Artist,” Echo says. “Thanks for coming. Let’s just go, please.”
“Absolutely.” I do a double-take as the glow from a light shines on Echo’s face. I had already known she’d been crying, but to what degree I had no idea. Her eyes were puffy with black stuff smeared around them. I don’t remember… mascara or whatever girls wear around their eyes. It has also run down her cheeks, staining them. Her nose was r
ed, and she looked horrible. “What the hell did you do to her?” I directed my question to the jock asshole standing there with his chest puffed out like he’s the man for causing a female to cry like this. “Did he touch you?” I almost caress her face but decide against it, realizing it’s not my place to do so.
“I should be the one asking you if you touched my girlfriend last night, dipshit!”
Oh crap… how did he know about that?
“You don’t have the fucking right to question me anymore, Jesse!” Echo points over my shoulder at him as I block her, holding her back from contact with him. Not that I was protecting him. I was just ready to get her away from him. I felt terrible if I’m the one who caused this argument. “I’m not your girlfriend! Go question Nicole, you motherfucker!”
“Whatever, man!” Jesse yells back as he throws a few air punches. So long as none of them landed on me, I couldn’t care less. “You’re not so innocent, Echo! Of course, you’d call this chickenshit. He’s probably who you’d rather been with all fucking day instead of me.”
“Sad story, bro.” I reach out to grab Echo’s hand, and she takes it. “Let me get you home,” I say to her, and she nods.
“You are not getting one thing I paid for today!” Jesse shouts as Echo, and I walk away.
“Fuck you, Jesse!” She stops and glances back, still holding onto my hand. “I want nothing from you! Ever!”
“If you leave with him, you’re gonna regret it. I promise you that!”
I refrain Echo from turning around and continuing with an idiot who doesn’t know when to quit. I open the door of my mom’s car for her, and she stands there like she’s in shock.
“Oh! Where’s your motorcycle?”
“I didn’t think you were in the mood to ride.” My little white lie brings a slight smile to her face as she hops in.
“Thank you for that.”
“No problem.” There was no way I was going to tell her about my bike not starting, especially after she’d talked about my phone so badly.
We rode in silence all the way to her house. I didn’t want to pressure her into talking if she didn’t feel up to it, and I didn’t want to play any music on the radio. Music could be a tricky bastard in situations like this. I wasn’t trying to make her night worse by dredging up any more sad feelings had a song come on that reminded her of that asshole.
Once in her driveway, I push the gear in park, and I wait for her to either say something or remain silent and just get out of my car rudely. She catches a glimpse of herself in the side-view mirror. Not pleased with what she sees, she pulls on the visor in front of her before I have time to warn her. All kinds of mail, coupons, and menus pour out, slapping her in the face, and burying her.
“What in the actual fuck—” After getting over the initial shock, she stays frozen in the same position.
Shit.
I hurry to grab as much stuff off her as I can. She’s still stiff as a board and looks like a volcano about to erupt at any moment.
“My bad. I’m sorry about that.” Getting out of the car, I run to the passenger’s side to retrieve even more. “I tell my mom all the time, a sun visor isn’t for filing or piling. It’s called a sun visor for a reason. This happens to me every time. I’m driving down the road, and the sun gets in my eyes, and I automatically reach up and flip the damn thing, and this happens. Sometimes it scares the shit out of me because I wasn’t expecting it, and I end up having to swerve to avoid a freaking accident.”
“Wait—so this is your mother’s car?”
“Yes.” So what? I would not hide that fact. If she doesn’t approve, she can get the hell out right now and never ask for a ride again. She giggles, and I take silent offense.
“It’s such a mom car!” She laughs harder. “My mom does the same thing with the visor. It’s so annoying.” So, she wasn’t laughing at me, she was laughing with me. She always seems to have a tricky way of making me feel like an ass. “Dammit! I forgot the to-go entrees at the restaurant.” She takes out a compact mirror from her purse and wipes to clean her face. “Stop looking!”
“I’ve already seen it. I can’t unsee it,” I shrug. Echo scowls at me and motions for me to turn around. I do, even though I don’t understand the request. “It’s not like you’re undressing.”
“Yeah, it kind of is.”
“Do you want me to take you back to get the food?” I had to think of something to say because I felt silly just standing there with my back to her, looking up at this enormous house.
“No,” she says in a low moan. “I want nothing from that bastard. I’d rather starve.”
“I’m sure with a house this huge, you won’t starve,” I chuckle. “I’m sure there’s plenty to eat inside.” I turn my head, taking a slight peek to see if she was done. She scowls at me and sarcastically widens her eyes. I guess that means she wasn’t done and for me to turn back around. I sigh and do as she wishes. I know now that under all that layer of makeup, she’s hiding a few cute freckles.
“Go inside and check—” her phone rings, cutting her off. “Hey, Ben,” she answers with it on speaker.
“When are you coming home?” I hear Ben say. “Mom’s been gone for hours. It’s not like I’m afraid or anything, but I am starving.”
“What do you mean, mom is gone? When did she leave?”
“I’m pretty sure I just said hours ago.” Ben sounds annoyed. “Did you get the part that I was hungry at all? When are you coming home?”
“I’m already here. I’ll be in, in a sec.” Echo hangs up and rests her head back onto the seat like she’s exhausted.
“Tired?” I say, asking the obvious.
“You have no idea, but not tired in the physical sense. I’m tired of all the bullshit.” I hold my hand out to help her out of the car, and she just stares at it in disgust. “What?”
“I’m helping you out so we can go inside, and I’ll help you fix something for Ben to eat.”
“There is nothing!” She stresses. “Not even PB’n J.”
“I seriously doubt that,” I chuckle.
“Okay. Have a look for yourself, and when you find nothing, you can do all of my math homework for a week.”
“I’ll help you with your math, but I’m not doing it.” I shake my head and laugh as we walk inside and straight into the kitchen. I’m stuck in the entranceway as I take in the sight of this massive kitchen. “My mom would love this,” I say in awe.
“But I’m sure not the lack of food inside,” she giggles as she challenges me, placing a hand on the small of my back, guiding me in further. I hide that her touch sends electricity shooting throughout my entire body, precisely one major organ. “Go on. I can’t wait to see what you come up with.” She takes a seat at the kitchen island and props her face onto her hands like a kickstand.
I nod and go straight for the fridge, and then the freezer. I have seen nothing cleaner in my life. There was absolutely nothing inside besides condiments. “What do you guys do? Eat takeout every night?” I face Echo to ask.
“Pretty much,” she answers.
“Why not takeout tonight, then?”
“It’s a long story,” she says with a smirk. “Give up?”
“No. Just shocked is all.” I look over my options again. There were a couple of sausage patties that wouldn’t have been enough to feed just the two of them, so I grab that out of the fridge and an open back with a few pepperonis. “Perfect,” I say, giving Echo a wink. “Can you grab out a frying pan and a cookie sheet, please?”
“Why?” She crinkles her face to ask.
“Just do it,” I shake my head.
“Art!” Ben runs over to me.
“Hey, Bud!” We do the secret handshake that we’ve made up.
“What are you doing here?”
“You don’t want me to be here?” I tease.
“I do!” He beams. “I’m just surprised.” He glances around the kitchen. “Wait—are you cooking?”
“Yup!” I t
ell him. “About to conjure something up here so you can hit the hay because it’s already late, my guy.”
“But there’s not—”
“I’ve tried to tell him, Ben. He’s not listening.” Echo now hands her head propped with one hand.
“Oh ye of little faith,” I tell them both as they watch me get to work. I scramble the sausage patties into crumbles and grab the rest of the bread, placing each of the slices onto the cookie sheet.
“Seriously, what are you making?” Ben’s face is just as scrunched up as his sister’s.
“Pizza… well, a version of it. It’s more like a pizza boat.”
“But this is pasta sauce, not pizza sauce.” Ben picks up the jar, stating the obvious.
“Right,” Echo adds. “And slice cheddar, not shredded mozzarella.”
I don’t say another word to convince them. They might like it, or they might not. I’m not sure how rich people’s taste buds work. I spoon the sauce onto the slices of bread, then lay two slices of cheese onto each piece. “Who wants sausage? Who wants pepperoni, or both?”
“Who cares, I’m not eating that,” Echo shrieks.
“I want both,” Ben says and then catches a glimpse of how Echo was looking at him. “I really don’t care,” he says to her. “That’s how hungry I am right now.”
I load every slice with both toppings and place it inside the oven. Which was on the wall, and the stovetop was a part of the counter. Weird, but cool at the same time.
When it was done, I serve us all… even Echo. Ben doesn’t waste any time digging in. I take a bite of mine and stare at Echo to do the same.
“Ohmygosh, food! It’s delicious,” Ben says with his mouth full.
“Your turn,” I say, waiting for Echo to at least try it. “Go ahead. Give it a go.”
“Yeah,” she says, dragging out the word. “No, I’m not doing that.” She lifts the sliced pizza bread and studies it. “It looks concocted. As if the cheese is duck tape trying to hold everything together… and not the pretty neon tape, either.” She giggles. Making fun of my food.
The Mean Girl and the Bad Boy #3: Echo and Artist Page 1
