by Amy Sparling
Mr. Reynolds takes a seat behind his desk and laces his fingers together over his protruding gut. “It has come to my attention that the three of you have been participating in bullying.”
Kennedy gasps. She doesn’t look like someone who was sick all last week, but I guess no one was supposed to believe that lie anyhow. “The two of them have been bullying me!”
Mr. Reynolds holds up a hand. “Don’t act innocent, Ms. Price. I know very well what’s been happening on social media.”
Ethan clears his throat. “Then you’ll know very well that Kennedy has been bullying not only Ella but me as well, and it was completely unprovoked. All I did was break up with her, kindly I might add, and she went on a rampage.”
Mr. Reynolds’ eyes soften and he almost looks like he agrees with us. But then deep lines form in his forehead. “Mr. Poe, do you run the online webstore called Poe’s Tees?”
Ethan swallows. “What I do outside of school doesn’t matter here.”
“It does when your webstore is bullying another student.”
Kennedy crosses her arms, looking absolutely thrilled right now. I roll my eyes. “Sir, nothing on Ethan’s shop is bullying anyone. It’s all satire and humor and a few sketches of cute animals.”
Ethan jumps in. “Exactly. If you could please show me exactly which item I sell online that says someone’s name on it directly, then I’ll be happy to agree with you. But I’m not bullying anyone.”
Mr. Reynolds chuckles. “I wish that were the case. My job would be easier. As it is, the term bullying is used to define all kinds of inappropriate actions and in the case of your store, I think we all know who exactly you are targeting with a specific T-shirt. It’s a shirt I’ve seen quite a lot in the hallways.”
“That shirt could mean anything,” I say.
Kennedy’s neck snaps around to face me. “Shut up, freak. Don’t act all innocent.”
Mr. Reynolds holds up a hand to stop her. “I have full faith that we could ask any student in this school and they would all tell you that your “ex-girlfriend” shirt is aimed at Kennedy. However, she is also not blameless as evidenced by her online social media posts.” He leans forward, pressing his thumbs together on top of the desk. “This behavior from all three of you will cease immediately.”
My heart speeds up as fear trickles in. He’s announcing our punishment now and I’ve never been punished by the school. Will we get detention? A call to our parents? Ugh.
Mr. Reynolds looks to each of us for a moment. “You all will do a Saturday of community service on May fifteenth.”
“But that’s—” Kennedy says, rocking back in her chair. Her knuckles are whine on the armrests.
“The night of the prom, yes I know,” Mr. Reynolds says. “The three of you have lost your prom privileges.”
A cold stab of regret hits me, even as Kennedy goes off on a rant, bitching and cursing at our principal about how unfair all of this is. Ethan looks over at me, his eyes sad as well. Even though I made all those jokes about not really caring about prom, now that I officially can’t go, I regret every single one of them.
“Is that all?” I ask over the roar of Kennedy’s complaining.
Mr. Reynolds nods. “That is all. If I hear of any more bullying coming from either one of you, you’ll be expelled and you’ll be barred from graduating and forced to attend summer school. Let this be the last time I see any of you in here, do you understand?”
“Yes sir,” Ethan says quickly.
I nod and Kennedy jumps out of her chair, glaring down the principal as if he were one of her loyal freshman minions and not the boss of the whole school. “You’ll be hearing from my lawyer about this.”
Then she stalks out of the office, letting the door slam behind her.
“You mind if we stay in here a minute until she’s gone?” Ethan asks. Mr. Reynolds nods.
Ethan walks me back to my class. We don’t talk the whole time, but that’s because there’s nothing really to say. I feel like apologizing but I’m not sure what for. For being me, I guess. If I hadn’t been tossed into his life by a tornado, he’d probably still be dating Kennedy and still be in the running for prom king. I’d still have my house, my baking supplies, and my future that didn’t involve Ethan.
My breath hitches and tears flood into my eyes at the very thought of life without him. Ethan stops walking and turns to me. “What’s wrong?”
I shake my head. “Nothing. We’re almost at my class,” I say, pointing to the next door on the left.
“No, I’m not leaving you yet.” Ethan takes my cheeks in his hands and those dark mysterious eyes pour into mine. “You’re crying. Talk to me.”
“I’m not—it’s not what you think,” I say, reaching up to wipe away the treacherous tear. “I mean, I’m not upset about missing prom, even though I am. I was just thinking how easier your life would be if I had just never been in it.”
Ethan’s jaw twitches and he brings me to his chest. I can’t wrap my arms around him because of his backpack, but I let my head rest against the warm familiarity of him.
“Don’t think like that,” he says, pulling back to look at me. “Prom or not, I like this outcome way better than the one where we’re not friends anymore.”
I blink away tears and try to smile. “Yeah?”
He nods. “Yeah.” He clears his throat and runs his tongue across his bottom lip.
“What is it?” I ask suspiciously. “You look like you’re hiding something from me.”
He shakes his head and takes both of my hands in his. “Not hiding . . . just, trying to think of how to say it.”
I’m not sure if I should be nervous or scared or excited, so my body morphs into a mixture of the three. “Say what?”
Ethan’s eyes crinkle. “Well . . . you know that dress you wanted?”
“Uh yeah,” I say, now having completely no idea where he’s going with this. “It’s a good thing I didn’t buy it now.”
“Yeah it is, because, well.” He hesitates, running a hand through his hair. “This isn’t exactly the perfect moment I was going for but I feel like I should tell you now.”
“Yeah, you should because I’m going crazy from the anticipation.” I narrow my eyes at him.
The bell rings, signaling the end of second period. Doors fly open and students rush out and soon we’re surrounded by the chaos of high school. Ethan holds on to my arms, keeping us near the lockers and angling his body to shield us from an onslaught of arms and legs and backpacks.
“Okay so, about the dress,” he says again. “I bought it for you.”
My eyes widen. “You did?”
He nods eagerly, like he’s even more excited about the stupid dress than I was. “It’s beautiful and you loved it so I wanted to get it for you.”
Gratitude and happiness swell up inside me and I throw my arms around his neck, pulling him into a hug. “That was really sweet. Ethan. But now we can’t go to prom.”
He shrugs. “So what? If we can’t go to prom, we’ll just find somewhere else for you to wear it.”
Chapter 29
Although I’d hoped to get out of this by keeping it a big secret, Mom corners me the second we get home from school with a hand on her hip and a “Ethan Wyatt Poe!”
Apparently Mr. Reynolds called her and explained the whole situation.
“First of all,” Mom says, putting a hand on my shoulder. “That shirt was hilarious. It’s a shame they’re making you remove it.”
I glance over at Ella and she grins. “Ethan drew it but it was my idea.”
Mom shakes her head like she’s disappointed but she smiles anyway. “It was funny. But you two know you can’t do that. However, Mr. Reynolds did tell me about Kennedy’s online posts and that’s just awful of her. She really is a piece of work. Of course, who can blame her for being upset that the greatest guy in high school dumped her.”
I can feel my cheeks redden. “Mom, ew.”
Ella smiles. “Well, she�
�s right about that.”
Mom’s lips flatten and she points between the two of us. “You two need to be careful. That girl is pissed and she could get you in even more trouble.”
“Yes ma’am,” I say, letting my shoulders sag. “This is a hell we’ve been living with for a few weeks now.”
Mom sighs and then throws her hands up in the air. “Ugh, this is so stupid! I feel like I should ground you or something, right? But at the same time, I don’t really blame you for what you did. It was kind of hilarious.”
Mom walks back into the kitchen and I almost think the conversation is over but then she says. “My kids have never been in trouble before so I don’t know what to do.” She waves a hand at us and ducks into the refrigerator, taking out supplies needed to cook dinner. “Just tell everyone you’re grounded, okay? Now get out of here.”
Ella’s mom calls her from work and she ducks into the other room to answer it. I give her some privacy, and head into my room to begin Operation Something Better than Prom.
I plunk down into my computer chair and try to Google for ideas. Although I know I want to surprise Ella with a fun and ultra romantic date where she can wear her dress, I’ve got exactly zero ideas on how to do it. Luckily, I have four days to think of something.
*
My alarm blares at five in the morning on Saturday. I knew it would be painstakingly awful to get up this early, but now that it’s actually happening, it’s even worse. My eyes hurt, my body hurts, and all I want to do is sleep. I’d stayed up way too late last night putting the finishing touches on my surprise for Ella.
I throw off the covers as I hear Ella’s alarm go off down the hall. We have to be at the corner of Main and Walnut Street by five-thirty for our community service. The only good thing about waking up this early is knowing that Kennedy has to do it too. Ha.
The body shop called last night and said that my truck would be ready by noon today, so although we take my Mom’s car to our community service, I am thrilled that later today I’ll be back behind the wheel of my own truck.
Ella rubs her eyes and looks over at me, her head lolling against the headrest of Mom’s Accord. “Do we have time for coffee?” she mumbles.
“And donuts,” I say with a smile.
Mrs. Kim isn’t behind the counter when we get to the square donut place, but a kid that looks like her son helps us instead. It’s probably for the best because Mrs. Kim would ask too many questions about why we’re here so early and I really don’t want to ruin her impression of me by telling her I’m a delinquent with community service.
We eat quickly and when we arrive at the starting point, there’s already a dozen or so people standing around, all wearing bright yellow safety vests and looking like they’ve committed far worse crimes than making a funny T-shirt.
Kennedy is here, too, wearing a black tracksuit and her hair in a ponytail. She avoids us like the plague and we do the same to her. Ella and I are given a yellow vest by the woman in charge. Her name is Pam and she looks exactly like a Pam—like someone who’s seen some shit and someone you know you don’t want to cross.
Ella and I work in silence, moving along the side of the main highway, picking up trash. It’s all surprisingly exactly like the stuff you see on TV. A couple of police officers supervising while we all walk around, stabbing trash and shoving it into a thick plastic trash bag. I guess this is supposed to give us time to reflect on what we’ve done wrong, but the only guilt I feel is the guilt over dating Kennedy in the first place. What was I thinking?
I can remember when Kennedy first sunk her claws into me. I’d been single and bored and it felt like a fine thing to do at the time. I should have put more thought into it. Vetted her with my friends to make sure she wasn’t crazy. I’m sure she would have failed that test and I’d have been able to turn her away, avoiding all of this drama in the first place.
And if I had never been dating Kennedy, the tornado still would have happened. I’d still be in athletics class and Ella would still be in art class and we’d probably still have met each other in the hallway. Everything could have been exactly the same, only it could have missed a ton of drama and nonsense along the way.
At noon, we get fifteen minutes to eat our sack lunches at a rest stop along the side of the road.
Ella and I choose a small picnic table and sit next to each other. “Ugh this is awful,” Ella says, bumping into me with her shoulder. “I would kiss you right now but I’m pretty sure my whole face is covered in the germs of this trash.”
I lift an eyebrow. “Have you been rubbing it on your face? You know you’re just supposed to put it in the bag, right?”
She punches me in the arm. “You know what I mean. It feels like the garbage and grossness is in the air, floating all around in this godawful Texas heat.” She heaves a sigh and squirts some antibacterial gel on her hands before opening her bag of chips. “Ugh.”
A shadow falls over us and we both look up to see the queen bitch herself, paper lunch bag in her hand.
“Can I sit here?”
The unusualness of Kennedy’s question renders both Ella and I mute. A few seconds pass and Kennedy’s shoulders sag. “Please?”
I make some kind of noncommittal gesture and she sits down across from us. She runs a hand down her face and rubs her neck and then says, “Look. I’m sorry.”
More seconds pass. I don’t really know what to say here. It’s all too awkward for words and apparently Ella feels the same way.
Kennedy sighs. “I know I don’t deserve to have you accept my apology or anything, but I really am sorry. My parents made me see this therapist last week and I guess you could say my eyes were opened to how awful I was to you guys.” She stares at her lunch bag and gnaws on her bottom lip. “I really am sorry. Ethan, I just wanted a perfect high school experience and I guess the pressures of being popular got too much for me. I couldn’t stand the idea of not being the best in the school. When you left me I just . . . I fell apart.” She swallows and draws in a deep breath and for the first time ever, she looks truly sincere. “I totally lost it and it’s not really your fault. My therapist says I put too much of my heart into being popular and I snapped.” She twirls her hand in the air. “Apparently it happens to teenage girls a lot. I don’t know.”
Ella puts down her sandwich. “Thanks for this,” she tells Kennedy.
Kennedy looks over at her and I flinch, expecting her claws to come out. But she just makes this sad smile. “You’re welcome. I really am sorry. I mean, I know we’ll never be friends or anything but can we just call a truce?”
“Yeah, I’d like that,” I say.
Kennedy’s back straightens and she nods. “Thanks.” She grabs her bag and turns to go but Ella stops her.
“You can stay,” Ella says, gesturing to our table. She leans forward and talks quietly. “You might end up dead if you sit with some of these other weirdos.”
We all glance to the right where a guy who is more tattoos and evil grimaces than actual human being sits. Kennedy sighs in relief. “Thanks. Though after smelling all of this garbage I don’t really have much of an appetite.”
After lunch, we grab our sticks and bags and get back to picking up crap that assholes toss on the side of the road. But the whole mood of the day is lighter now, like a massive war has finally ended. I’m sure Ella and I will talk about this a lot more when we get back home, but for now, the three of us stick together, the innocent people in a group of real criminals, and we pick up trash until all eight hours of our punishment has been served.
Chapter 30
Once I’ve showered away the stink of highway garbage, I’m starting to feel really excited for tonight. Ethan won’t tell me a single thing about what he has planned.
All I know is that I’m supposed to get all dressed up in the gorgeous pink gown he bought for me and be ready to go at six. Dakota bounces around my bedroom helping me get ready. She’s got an even bigger smile than I do, yet the punk won’t bother tel
ling me any of the secret details that I know she knows.
She helps me style my hair while I apply my makeup. Since it’s not real prom, I know I don’t have to worry about looking as stunning as possible compared to everyone else, so I just do my makeup regularly and then I add some sparkle eyeshadow and fake eyelashes for good measure.
“Which lipstick should I use?” I ask Dakota as I hold up two options. They’re the only two lipsticks I own now since they were in my purse on the day of the tornado.
She holds out the curling iron and gazes at the two choices. “Um, the nude one. It’ll look good with this pale dress.”
I apply the nude-ish pink lipstick and then smile into the mirror. The rec room doesn’t have any mirrors or vanities so I’m getting ready in Dakota’s extra girly room.
Dakota is a pretty great hair stylist for only being thirteen years old. She gives me big, wavy curls and spritzes my hair with some kind of spray that promises “the perfect beach hair” look.
I hear Mom call my name and I check the time. It’s five fifty-five. Dakota leans back and her lips squish to the side of her mouth while she examines me. “You look amazing.”
“You sure?” I ask, smiling. “It kind of took you a while to decide what to say.”
“I was trying to decide if I should send you with a hair tie in your clutch just in case—eh, you know what, go ahead and take one,” she says, grabbing a hair tie off her vanity and handing it to me.
“Just in case what?” I ask, narrowing my eyes. “Why would I need to pull my hair back? Where are we going?”
She pretends to zip her lips closed. “Can’t tell you. Now go,” she says, waving her hands toward her bedroom door. “Go show the world how hot you look.”
I roll my eyes and take a deep breath. Now that I’m about to walk downstairs and see Ethan, I’m a little more than nervous. I’m hyper-nervous. Shit.
Dakota’s hand touches my back. “Deep breaths,” she says as she opens the door. She winks. “It’s just my stupid brother.”
