The Mean Girl and the Bad Boy #3: Echo and Artist

by Reighan Storm

  “You have to at least take a bite. I found food, which means I won the bet, so you have to at least try it.”

  “That wasn’t part of the deal,” she says, scowling at me. “Whatever.” She pinches off a corner and slides it into her mouth and shrugs.

  “No way!” I shout. “You literally just tasted the crust of the toast.” I slide over to her, take her portion, and break off a nice sized piece. I hold it up to her mouth. “Here,” I demand.

  “As if!” she cringes. “You have your hands all over it. I’m not eating that!”

  I give her a deadpan expression.

  “Seriously, Echo,” I say. “I made it. My hands were all over every inch of this bread, the cheese, and the toppings.” I bring the piece closer, touching her lips. “If you don’t like it, you can always spit it out.”

  “Fine.” She parts her lips slightly, and I slide it inside. She chews slow. “It’s edible, I guess… but it’s not like I’m going to eat the whole thing.”

  “Fair enough,” I shrug and return to my place.

  “Cool!” Been yelps as he reaches for Echo’s food. “I’ll take it!” She slaps his hand playfully.

  “No, you won’t!”

  “It’s okay, Ben,” I chuckle. “There’s plenty more left, knock yourself out.”

  2/Echo

  I send Ben up to bed while Artist and I clean the kitchen. “Thanks,” I tell him.

  “For?” He asks as if he didn’t know he’d been this major distraction for me, in a good way. There’s no telling what I’d have done by now. He may have helped save a couple of lives tonight.

  “Everything,” I say without going into great detail. Artist grins and tells me it was his pleasure.

  “I’m sure you’d rather talk to your girlfriends about what’s going on, but if you ever need an extra ear…” he hesitates for a second. “Or shoulder. I’m here,” he shrugs.

  “I’m fine, but thanks,” I tell him.

  “If I caused this—”

  “You didn’t,” I say, cutting him off. Or did he? If it hadn’t been for Artist being here last night, I might have gone to Luke’s party, and maybe Jesse wouldn’t have bumped uglies with one of my friends. I confide in Artist just that.

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa,” he says, holding his hands up. “Stop the blame train and switch tracks, sister. I may share some of the blame for being locked in your room against my will… but that has nothing to do with this prick cheating on you. No one put a gun to his head and made him sleep with your best friend. He did that because he wanted to.” Artist sugar coats nothing, and it severs the rest of the feelings I had left.

  “Wow,” I say. “Way to lay it on me gently.” I’m sarcastic.

  “Coddling and telling you what you want to hear is a job for your girlfriends. I’m not gonna waste time doing that.” I subtly roll my eyes upward and rub my own arms. “Unless you um… want me to hug you or something?”

  “Oh, gosh, no!” My arms fall limp, and my hands smack my thighs. He looks relieved that he doesn’t have to be forced to put his arms around me. “Coffee?” I say as I make my way to the machine. He doesn’t answer me verbally, so I glance over my shoulder. He gives me a raised eyebrow and a half shrug. I’m not sure if that’s a yes or a no, but I make him a cup anyway because I don’t want to drink alone.

  “None of that fancy stuff.” His demand makes me giggle slightly.

  My phone rings and I slide it from my back pocket and glance at Artist. “I need to take this.” He shoots me a disappointed look and stays planted in his seat. I turn my phone, showing him the caller ID. “It’s my mother,” I reiterate.

  “Oh, of course—I’m just gonna go—” He points in the direction of the bathroom, and I nod approvingly.

  “Where are you?” I scold my own mother.

  “Tone,” she groans. “You’re not a complete adult yet.”

  “Tell that to my parents, will you.” I slide my phone onto the counter as I pour two cups of coffee. I add sugar and Reece’s creamer to mine. I was about to do the same to Artist’s cup but decide to leave it as is. I’m not sure if cream and sugar are too fancy for his taste. “When are you coming home?”

  “I’m not.”

  “Excuse me?” I’m sure I didn’t hear her correctly.

  “You heard me,” her voice raises. “If your father can leave and give up on everyone, why can’t I?” She can’t be serious.

  “Stop joking around—”

  “Joking?” she repeats. “When have I ever been known to do that?”

  She was right. Joking around has never been in my mother’s vocabulary.

  “You can’t just do that! We’re minors.”

  “You’re practically an adult, Echo.”

  I stare down at my phone. Eyes wide and mouth agape. Did she not just say the opposite just moments ago? Something tells me it would be a waste of time to point that fact out.

  “Regardless of my near emancipation, you still have a kid here, and I’m not going to mother him for you.” I hear a deep, clearing throat and patter of feet running away. I glance up to see Artist with his hands splayed out as if he were trying to warn me of something. “Was that Ben?” I ask him, and his facial expression tells me it was. “Did he hear what I just said?” Artist nods apologetically. “Perfect!” I groan. “Get home, mother.” I press the end button on my phone, hoping it would end all of this misery along with it.

  “I’m sorry,” Artist says. “I came out of the bathroom, and he was already standing here.”

  I toss my hands in the air out of exasperation.

  “Well, thanks again. You can go now.” I’m freaking annoyed. The only thing I wanted to do right now was to take a shower and immerse myself under my plush comforter and forget this whole day ever existed.

  “What about my coffee?” he says. “Wouldn’t want it to go to waste.”

  I whirl around and pull out a to-go cup and dump his black coffee inside. “Here, ya go! Now, go… please.” I plaster on a fake sarcastic smile to go with it.

  “Un-freaking-believable.” Artist shakes his head as he grabs the cup from me. He stands there for a moment staring at me as if I’d change my mind and ask him to stay. I’m not. I needed to check on Ben and explain what he’d heard and probably taken out of context.

  “Shoo!” I wave my hands at him in a sweeping motion.

  He sighs and leaves without speaking a word.

  I shrug as I hear the door slam and dump my coffee into the sink. I wasn’t in the mood to drink it anymore.

  After locking up, I go into Ben’s room, but he was already fast asleep. Maybe what he’d overheard didn’t bother him at all, and I was just overreacting as usual. I take a brisk shower and head to bed.

  When I wake in the morning, Ben was already gone. He left a note for me saying he was taking the bus to school this morning. Maybe he was really bothered after all. I make a mental note to check on him after school. I, however, decided I wasn’t up for the whole school thing today.

  I weighed my options very carefully. If I go to school today, there was no way that I’d last the entire day anyway. Best case scenario, I’d beat the crap out of Nicole and Jesse and get expelled. Worst case scenario, the beating I entended to inflict would probably kill them, and I’d be arrested for murder on two accounts. Therefore it was probably best for everyone if I just didn’t show up today.

  I make my way to the kitchen and try my best to recreate a Starbucks Latte. It was mediocre at best, but I’d kill for the real thing.

  I send Artist a text, asking him if he could get my math assignment because I wasn’t going today.

  Artist: No, can do Ice Queen

  I roll my eyes and sigh hard. Who does he think he is? If I’m an Ice Queen, then he’s a… a… rude dude!

  Me: Dude! Ur so rude!

  Artist: How?

  Me: First of all…

  My fingers fly across the keys on my phone. If he wanted to know how I was definitely going to tell him jus
t that and give him an ear full… well, in this case, an eye full. I was going to tell him exactly the way I feel about him and not hold anything back. I scowl as my words turn into a paragraph. I was nowhere near ready to stop yet.

  “Hello.”

  “Hello?” I say because a voice comes out of nowhere. I must have been texting so fast that I’d answered a call without even noticing it. “Why are you on my phone?” I yell into my cell, annoyed because he’d disturbed my flow.

  “I thought I would call to save you some time.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, seeing as though you haven’t replied back yet, I’m guessing you were sending me a book on how rude you think I am.”

  “Was not!” I lie. “I didn’t give you a second thought,” I tell Artist.

  “Sure,” he says as he chuckles lightly into the phone. “Anyway,” he sighs. “I can’t get your math work because I’m not at school myself today.”

  I exhale, deflating my whole body. “Why didn’t you start with that?”

  “You didn’t give me a chance before you went all crazy Ice Queen mode.”

  “I did not go all crazy, Ice Queen mode.” My eyes playfully roll to the corner of my sockets. “Why didn’t you go?” It wasn’t like I gave a damn. I was just curious.

  “My bike clunked out on me. I walked to the gas station this morning, hoping it was just out of gas. It’s obviously more complex than that.”

  “Good! Toss that thing in the dumpster where it belongs.” I make a gagging noise and giggle.

  “It doesn’t belong in the gotdamn dumpster!” He’s instantly defensive, startling me. “Just because it isn’t brand-new, shiny, or expensive doesn’t mean it doesn’t hold any value. Not all value is monetary, Echo!”

  “Whoa! Calm down. I didn’t mean to offend, nor did I know that thing held any sentimental value to you.”

  “If you really meant that, you wouldn’t have referred to my bike as that thing.”

  How was I supposed to know anything about him like his likes and dislikes when I barely knew him? He doesn’t even talk about himself when we do speak. “You’re way too harsh on me right now.”

  He lets out a deep, throaty chuckle.

  “Harsh? I didn’t think the Ice Queen knew the definition of harsh since that’s the way she treats people all the time.” I try to respond to his comment, but he ignores it and keeps talking over me. “Anyway, I was really calling to check up on Ben to see how he was doing after last night.”

  “He’s okay, I suppose. He left a note saying he was taking the bus to school—"

  “The bus?” Artist cuts me off mid-sentence. “That didn’t throw up any red flags to you? Ben hates taking the bus because…” his voice trails off, and he goes silent.

  “Don’t stop now, finish because you obviously think you know my little brother better than I do!”

  “You’re right.” I hear a hint of sarcasm in his tone. “You should know Ben better… but do you?” His comment silences me for a moment as I assess his words. Of course, I do! Ben and I have a great relationship, and I’ll be damned if I let anyone make me second guess that. “I have to go—”

  “Wait—” I’m knocked out of my thoughts. “I’m hungry…”

  “Then, eat.” He mumbles something else under his breath that I can’t quite make out.

  “I don’t want to be alone right now, Artist.” I sing, with a sprinkle of begging in my tone, to hopefully let him know how desperate I was right now.

  “Ah, I have a solution for that… call whoever you would have had I been in school right now.”

  The phone goes dead, and I stare at it blankly.

  He hung up on me!

  3/Artist

  I shoot Ben a text asking if he were okay and offer my services if he needed to talk. I back out of my messages because since he was in class, I knew he wasn’t going to respond any time soon. I pull up YouTube and watch a few vids to try to figure out what could possibly be wrong with my bike.

  A couple of hours pass by, and I’m no closer to figuring things out than when I first began my search. I’ve tried almost every free option there was, and everything is a no-go. The only thing left for me to do was order a used part and guess and hope that fixes the problem. The thing is… I didn’t have the money to do that right now.

  Dammit!

  I pick up a huge rock and hurl it at the garage as hard as I could. Which probably wasn’t the best idea seeing as though the garage looked as though it was on its last leg. That’s why mom never parked in there, and I kept my bike on the side of the house. I pace back and forth with my fists on my hips, and my head tilted back.

  “Nice arm,” I hear a familiar voice complement me as I jerk my head around. “At least that’s what my dad says when he’s watching baseball.”

  A smile threatens the corners of my lips until I’m reminded of the person standing a few feet from me, and I frown.

  “What the hell are you doing here?”

  “You hung up on me.”

  “That is not an invitation to visit in person, Echo! There are no fucking boundaries with you, is there? How the hell did you even know where I lived?” I made it a point to share that piece of info with no one.

  “I have my ways.” She flips her hair over her shoulder as if she was proud that she just invaded my privacy.

  I shake my head out of disappointment and disgust as I walk past. I brush her shoulder with force, but not too much to knock her off balance. As I walk up the steps and onto my porch, she’s right on my heels. “Go away!” I point as I yell at her as if she’s an annoying stray pup, biting at my ankles.

  “Do you really think I’d be here… go through all of this…” Her voice cracks, and each time its as if she can’t finish a complete thought. “Never mind,” Echo waves her hand into the air. She turns to leave and then stops as if she was undecided. “I just want to say that never, not once, have I ever made you feel unwelcome at my home.”

  She bounces down the steps and then rolls her ankle on the last one. I probably should have warned her that the last step was a bit weak, but she came up them. Shouldn’t she have known?

  “Are you okay?”

  She’s on all fours. She didn’t really fall… she just sort of collapsed. Like she’d given up on walking to her car.

  “Don’t worry about me,” she sniffs as she raises a hand to dismiss me.

  “Believe me, I’m not worried.” I open up the front door and slam it closed. She hops up quickly and turns around. She gasps when she sees me still standing there.

  “You tricked me!” She points when she says this and then folds her arms like she has a right to be angry with me.

  “Only because you were trying to tick me first. I knew you weren’t hurt.”

  “Ugh! Fine!” She tilts her head back and sighs hard. “Can I come in?”

  “No. Why don’t you go to school? What’s the point in driving all the way to my house when you damn near passed the school to get here?”

  “Well, you didn’t go either.”

  I give her a deadpan look. Had my bike been fixed, I would have gone whether I wanted to or not.

  “I have transportation issues. What’s your excuse?” Echo holds onto her arms tighter and stares down at the ground. I didn’t know if she was looking at her shoes or the uneven, broken concrete beneath her feet. Weeds had taken up root between the cracks. It makes me survey my own yard and the neighbors’. It had patches of dead spots. Some dirt patches and others light tan. Then I wonder what the differences were between my neighborhood and Echo’s. Ours looked like the barber gave it a lousy buzz cut, whereas hers was well manicured. I think nature just favors the better communities more. “Right,” I say. “You’re still upset about the deadbeat boyfriend thing?”

  “Upset?” She stomps her right foot, pouting. “Of course, I’m upset, Artist. It just happened!”

  “Nah, I think you just found out.”

  “What do you mean by t
hat?”

  “Nothing.” I hold the front door open for her, and she just stands there. “Suit yourself—”

  “Okay, I’m coming.”

  She steps inside, and I stay planted where I am and extend my arm to the door frame. I’m second-guessing, letting her all the way inside. They say a person’s house tells a lot about them. What does mine say about me? This isn’t even my house. I’m just staying here with mom at the moment. If it were mine, it damn sure wouldn’t look like this.

  “Are you going to let me inside, or are you trying to kiss me?”

  Her words take me by surprise, and at first, I’m stunned. Then just outright disgusted because it makes me pause and glance at her lips and wonder. “You wish,” I tell her and then head to the kitchen. She follows me.

  “I think you wish.” She giggles.

  “Hardly. I have no idea what the deadbeat jock did with those things.”

  “That’s disgusting!” She yelps.

  “So, you understand where I’m coming from?” Echo doesn’t answer. Not that I was expecting her to anyway. She just stands there and continues to hug herself like she was freezing or something. “Are you cold?”

  “No,” she says. “Would you really care if I were?”

  “Not really,” I lie. Of course, I would. If Echo was actually cold, I’d do something about it.

  “Then why ask?”

  “Just curious, I guess.”

  “Curiosity killed the cat,” she says sarcastically.

  “Good thing I’m a human and not a cat.” I retort back.

  We just stand there. My back leaned against the kitchen sink, and her just standing there. It’s really awkward that neither of us has anything to say. I don’t even know why she’s here in the first place.

  “What did you want?” I finally say, breaking the silence.

  “A bottled water would be fine,” she says, getting my question all wrong.

  “No. I mean, why are you here?”

  “Oh…” Echo readjust her weight to her other foot. “God forbid you’d show a bit of hospitality.”