by Ruth Houston
"Don't worry Haylee. You're part of the plan too, you know that. You're just after another guy," Ashley said.
What plan? I thought, frowning.
"Yeah, but I'd rather Tristan than him," Haylee complained.
Ashley sighed and there was a slight pause before she said, "Fine. Just to spice things up some more, let's make this a little competition. Whoever snags Tristan first wins… oh, I don't know. We'll work out the details later. But you still have to go after… you know who."
"OK, deal," Haylee said quickly.
There was a silence and I thought they were gone. Hesitating, I opened the bathroom stall's door and found myself staring into the bathroom mirror… straight at Ashley's reflected sour features.
I swallowed, wondering what she would do knowing that I had overheard their conversation… or plotting, whatever you want to call it. I swear I'd seen a movie where a girl ate a classmate because she found out about her evil plans.
But Ashley wouldn't turn to cannibalism. She hardly touched more than her carrot sticks. Hannah on the other hand could be short for Hannibal Lector…
Eyeing Hannah apprehensively through the mirror, I turned to the taps and began to wash my hands, hoping to escape the bathroom as soon as possible. My fingers ran over where the pink ring still sat on my finger. Damn thing. I'd have to get someone with muscles to tug at it later…. maybe Tristan.
Ashley, who had been suspiciously silent until now, suddenly snapped, "You stay away from him."
I started slightly with surprise, somewhat because of the suddenness of her shrill voice on my ears but mostly because of the randomness of the sentence.
"Er… stay away from who?" I asked, genuinely stumped.
"Tristan!" Ashley exclaimed. "I heard you mutter his name under your breath only two seconds ago!"
Whoops. Must have been talking to myself. Note to self: refrain from thinking at all in future, I thought silently before remembering that I was thinking at that exact moment and shaking my head.
"Oh, uh, right," I said, wiping my hands on a paper towel.
"Anyway, like I said: stay away from him," Ashley snarled.
I threw the wadded up paper towel in the bin and turned to her, Haylee and Hannah. A sudden idea dawned on me and I raised my hand, the pink ring flashing on it.
"Well, that'll be kind of hard considering we're married," I said sarcastically.
Ashley narrowed her eyes at me before letting out a cry of frustration and storming out, Haylee and Hannah in tow.
Laughing, I leant against the bathroom bench but recoiled with a shout. The bench was covered in a sticky substance that I'd rather not think about.
Groaning, I squirted a truckload of soap onto my palms and washed my hands again. As I turned the tap off, something seemed to be missing. Frowning, I stared at my fingers for a few moments before it clicked.
The ring was finally off!
There it sat innocently at the bottom of the sink, glinting out from beneath a thin sheet of soap bubbles. I picked it up and turned it in my fingers. For some reason, I felt weird without it on.
Maybe I was turning into Gollum off Lord of The Rings. My precious… Hmm… maybe not.
Smiling, I put the ring in my pocket, turned and walked out of the bathroom. That was when I collided into something solid.
Stumbling back a few steps, I looked up to shout at apologize when I saw Tristan staring at me. Surprise stilled the words in my throat and I simply stood gaping at him for a few moments before he frowned and began to walk off.
"Uh, wait! I need to talk to you!" I exclaimed, throwing my hands in front of his face before he could escape.
Tristan turned back to me with an audible sigh. "Well, I don't want to talk to you," he said shortly.
"Look, just hear me out, OK?" I said.
Tristan rolled his eyes but nodded.
I opened my mouth to start my well-rehearsed apology when I was cut off by a passing guy whom I recognized as Michael Pier, the famous class clown who I had never found funny in my entire life.
"Is that you're girlfriend, Tristan?" Michael sing-songed, earning appreciative laughs from the people standing around us.
See what I mean? No real sense of humour whatsoever.
"Now is not the time or the place," Tristan muttered, turning to walk away.
"Fine! We won't talk here," I snapped, my temper rising.
I grabbed his arms and, before he could protest any further, dragged him inconspicuously into a spare classroom. I shoved him into a chair before locking the door and closing the blinds so that we could have a private, uninterrupted conversation.
"Is this better?" I said impatiently.
"Hardly," Tristan mumbled but he sat still nonetheless, staring up at me and waiting for me to go on.
I began to pace up and down in front of him, twisting my hands in a frustrated way. This apology was getting harder by the second. Oh well, I guess the best thing would be to just get it out there…
"I'm sorry," I said suddenly, stopping in front of him and looking him in the eye.
"Sorry for…?" Tristan asked, his eyes flashing playfully. I could tell he knew what I was sorry for but he just wanted me to suffer.
I glared at him for a moment before sighing and continuing, "I'm sorry for accusing you of putting up the posters…"
"And…?"
"And what?" I said, slightly snappier than I had meant.
"And you're sorry for throwing my stuff out the window?" Tristan said, rising to his feet.
"Well, you deserved that," I said. "Or, well, I thought you did at the time."
"And you were wrong. Therefore, you should apologize," Tristan said smugly.
My eyes narrowed as my impatience bubbled to the surface. "Why don't you apologize, huh?"
"Why should I apologize? You don't see me acting like a loon and throwing stuff out windows," Tristan said.
I glared at him. "Maybe not, but I do recall seeing you act like a complete jerk and smashing my boyfriend in a game of basketball," I snapped.
"Oh, Amber, when are you going to get over that?" sighed Tristan. "Some weaker people just get hurt in… non-contact sport." I saw him stifle a smirk. "Besides, I heard that he's not your 'boyfriend' anymore. Something about wanting 'space' or 'time' but personally I know this is just one step closer for him to come out of the closet…"
"How dare you talk about Lucas like that?" I snapped. "And for your information, jerk-face, Lucas and I will do just fine once we've sorted out a few kinks in our relationship."
"Wow, Amber… jerk-face, that really hurt," Tristan said sarcastically, rolling his eyes.
"You immature little…" I struggled for an insult but, when I couldn't find one, instead pulled the pink ring from my pocket and held it up as though accusing him of something. "Why did you have this in your locker?" I demanded.
I watched as Tristan's expression changed rapidly from smug to shock as his wide eyes stared at the object I held between my fingers. Good, something finally gets to him, I thought triumphantly.
Instead of explaining, however, Tristan snarled, "Why have you been going through my locker?"
"I thought I'd do something nice by returning some dropped books when I found this," I explained shortly. "Now, why do you still have it?"
Tristan didn't answer, but instead snatched the ring from my hands and shoved it in his pocket.
"What are you doing? I was going to keep that!" I said angrily, annoyed at his rude manners.
"Why should I let you? You're the one that threw it in my face the day you left," he snapped.
"Well, maybe you shouldn't have ganged up on me!" I shouted. "Maybe you should have acted like a real friend and stuck up for me!"
"What, like I did every other time? Like I did every other time just before I got bullied myself? Where were you when that happened, huh? Probably off playing with your precious Barbies or something," Tristan snapped. "Besides, you called me immature? You're the one who can't let go
of the past!"
"AND NEITHER CAN YOU BY THE LOOKS OF IT!" I was surprised to find myself shouting at this point as I gestured to the ring in his pocket.
"WELL, I BOUGHT IT, SO I HAVE THE RIGHT TO KEEP IT!" Tristan yelled.
"NOT WHEN YOU'RE A SPINELESS, UNFRIENDLY LOSER!"
"AT LEAST I'M NOT A WRONGLY-ACCUSING BACK-STABBER!"
"ARROGANT SON-OF-A-BITCH!"
"PROUD BITCH!"
"JERK!"
"FREAK!"
"ASSWIPE!"
"WHORE!"
"HOW DARE YOU?!"
"WHY DO WE ALWAYS HAVE TO FIGHT?"
"I DON'T KNOW!" I screamed.
After that sentence, the classroom seemed to ring with silence, our insults hanging in the air around us. We stood glaring at each other, breathing heavily.
Finally, Tristan said the word that I, myself, had been longing to ask for the past few moments: "Friends?"
"Gladly."
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
OK, so I had finally smoothed out Tristan and my tense relationship. Now it was time for Lucas.
Instead of heading straight home after school, I asked Georgia if she could give me a lift to Wilson's Private. Without any questions asked – I think she had a hunch about what I was going to do – she agreed and drove me to the school.
"Thanks," I said, climbing out of the car and making to close the door.
"That's OK. Amber… don't confuse yourself, alright?" Georgia said, staring at me with eyes full of meaning.
Missing the point of her 'meaningful' gaze, I opened my mouth to ask what she meant but my voice died in my throat as my eyes flicked to where Lucas was walking toward me surrounded by his friends. I simply nodded at Georgia, shut the door and stepped toward Lucas. Georgia drove off.
Two of Lucas's louder friends wolf-whistled at me and the rest of the group burst out laughing. Lucas shot them a look and muttered something to them. I rubbed my arm uncomfortably.
"Oh, score, man!" exclaimed a tall blonde.
"Well, you take your time, bro," said a guy with dark hair and twinkling eyes. "We'll meet you at the restaurant."
With that, Lucas's friends walked off, some of them waving to me. I waved back hesitantly before turning back to Lucas, whose brown eyes were staring into mine.
"Y – You eating out tonight?" I asked, giving a lame attempt at a conversation starter.
Lucas simply nodded. His gaze was still on me and his eyes were full of questions.
"Look, I'm sorry for what I've done to you," I finally said, realizing then exactly how many apologies I had had to dish out in the past twenty-four hours. "I didn't mean to hurt you."
Lucas nodded again.
"I'm working on erasing the past," I stammered. "Tristan and I are friends now… nothing more, I promise."
Lucas seemed to jerk his head in a half-nod.
I raised my left hand and said weakly, "I got the ring off."
Lucas heaved a great sigh. Suddenly, he had covered the distance between us and had enveloped me in a tight hug.
"I'm sorry too," he said into my hair. "I overreacted. I should have known you wouldn't do anything with him. I'm sorry."
"It's OK," I said, hugging him back.
Even though I was supposed to be extremely happy at this moment, I couldn't help but shake a sense of disappointment from my mind. What did that mean?
Suddenly, Tristan's face flashed in front of my mind's eye. I mentally shook myself. I was dating Lucas, not Tristan. So why was I wishing it was the other way around?
What was it that Georgia said about confusing myself?
* * *
In the next few days that passed, I tried not to think about the fact that I had wished I was with Tristan instead of Lucas. It was just easier that way.
Instead, I focused on maintaining my friendship with Tristan. We became really close friends surprisingly fast. He sometimes ditched the Elites and came to hang out with my group. I saw Georgia and Harry exchange mysterious glances when he did so, but I pushed that to the back of my mind as well.
Lucas and I were back to our previous state, which was great. We hung out every day after school for that week but I still hadn't asked him to go to the dance with me. I guess several things were holding me back; such as the fact that the majority of Wilson's Private boys that came to our dances were beaten up. But also there was something I couldn't quite put my finger on…
Anyway, that Friday morning found me standing at my locker, pulling my Art notebooks into my bag. Students hurried around behind me, some heading off for their classes whilst others hung around talking, not worrying about being on time.
Just as I was about to close my locker door, two hands slammed down on my shoulders. Frightened, I couldn't help but let out a shriek, spin around and karate chop the mysterious person in the stomach.
As I calmed down, my eyes focused on Tristan, who was double, his face hidden from me. Oh, whoops, I thought, lowering my hands.
"Oh, God, Tristan I'm so sorry!" I cried. "But you really scared me."
It was then that I saw that Tristan's shoulders were shaking. He wasn't… He couldn't be crying? Maybe I had hit a point a bit lower than his stomach.
"Oh my God, Tristan! I'm really sorry! Did I hurt you that bad? I'm so sorry!" I walked up to him, resting my hand on his shoulder and bending low to try and see his face.
It was then that I realised that he wasn't crying, he was laughing. That little…
"Asshole," I muttered, straightening up, slamming my locker door shut and making to storm off.
"Hey, Amber, I'm sorry," Tristan choked out between chuckles. "It's just… you looked so stupid." He began to laugh again as he fell into step beside me.
"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up," I muttered, glowering into space. "But if you don't watch out, I will kick you where it hurts."
Tristan sobered, although he let out a random chuckle here and there. Finally he said, "So, who are you going to the dance with next Friday?"
I stiffened and my heart began to pound a hundred times faster. I swallowed hard, trying to calm myself down while asking myself silently: Is he going to ask me?!
Why do you care anyway? You're going with Lucas, cried a voice in my head.
Oh… right.
"Erm… Lucas, I think," I replied, adjusting my bag on my shoulder.
"You think?" Tristan repeated, glancing at me strangely.
"Yeah. I haven't gotten around to asking him yet," I said.
Tristan tried to cover up a snort but I could see right through it. I knew he still didn't like mine and Lucas's relationship – for some mysterious reason – but he had agreed not to say anything about it, unless it was a positive comment.
"So, who are you going with, smartass?" I asked.
"Ashley Everton."
My heart stopped and so, apparently, did my feet. Suddenly I was standing stock-still in the middle of the packed hall, ignoring grumbles by people who had to walk around my statue-like figure as I stared at Tristan.
Tristan, who was scratching the back of his neck nervously and avoiding my eye, asked, "What's the matter?"
"You're not dating her are you?" I said suddenly.
"Uh, no," Tristan replied awkwardly. "We're just going as friends."
"Oh, I bet she sees it in that way," I said sarcastically before turning serious again as we started to walk to Art again. "Why are you going with that slut anyway?"
"Oooh, a bit feisty there. You couldn't be jealous, could you?" Tristan stopped in the doorway to the Art classroom, blocking my path and surveying me with twinkling eyes and a smirk.
"Ha! In your dreams," I muttered, shoving him to the side and walking into the classroom.
"Dreams do come true, you know," Tristan said matter-of-factly as we sat down at the back of the classroom.
"Says who?" I asked.
Tristan took on an innocent expression. "My Mummy," he said in a baby voice.
I laughed and turned to face the front of the cla
ss as Mrs. See began to talk about an upcoming assignment.
"This assignment is all about individual taste… however, much to my disapproval, the principal wants you all to do this in pairs." Mrs. See rolled her eyes and a few people stifled laughter behind their hands. Everyone knew that Mrs. See and the principal were together and that they fought constantly, causing the Art teacher to bag him every two seconds.
"Anyway, this assignment is going to take a lot of time out of all of your 'social schedules' so I suggest a few sleepovers. The names have been drawn at random and I don't want any complaints, got it?" Mrs. See's eyes flashed dangerously before she turned to a list in front of her. "OK, so the pairs are as follows…"
She began to rattle off a long list of names. Everyone's reactions were different. Some groaned, some cheered and others blushed when they realised they had been paired with a member of the opposite sex.
Immature little losers, I found myself thinking as a group of girls burst into giggles and were blushing at the fact that their friend had been paired with a hot guy.
"Amber and Tristan…"
My cheeks heated up. What had I just thought about being immature?
"Oh, this should be good," Tristan said brightly, obviously happy he hadn't ended up with that random ugly chick with braces and huge glasses that sat at the front of the class.
I looked at him and managed a quick smile before turning away. Even though he seemed to be ecstatic about our pairing, I was feeling the opposite. I just couldn't shake a feeling of unease.
This assignment would mean a lot of late nights spent just with Tristan. How would Lucas react?
Worst of all… what could happen?
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
The time was set for the sleepover that lunch time. To my distress, I found myself telling Tristan that I was free Saturday night. After he walked away, however, I remembered exactly what I had plans to do on Saturday night: meet Lucas's parents.
I couldn't believe I had forgotten! I mean, I'd been stressing about it for the entire week. What to wear, how to act; those sorts of things. But now that I thought about it, where would I rather be on Saturday night?
At Tristan's I would surely have more fun but going with Lucas seemed like the right thing to do. After all, he was my boyfriend…
