Dark and Twisted

by Heidi Acosta

  He smiles, and I feel weak. There is no one—besides his brother—more beautiful than Cardelian Valentine, and he knows it. He has only been here a few weeks, and yet he struts around as if he can walk on water, not speaking to anyone unless he chooses to. So not fair.

  Even the teachers sense that he is different, they give him the royal treatment by politely asking him if he would like to answer their questions. Not like the average Joe Blow like me, I purposely am called on when I don’t know the answer and humiliated in front of an entire classroom of judging peers. Just because he is gorgeous, does not make it okay, and I can’t help but pout, thinking about the unjustness of high school.

  He seems to take my pouting as a sign. “Well, okay.” He walks away from me, probably to go wash the freak germs off his precious hands.

  I watch him walk out, thinking it should be a sin to look so good in a pair of ripped up jeans and a faded T-shirt. I gather the rest of my things and sneak out before Mr. Wissian can murmur the words ‘makeup assignment,’ to me. Stealth is my middle name.

  ###

  After surviving another day of school, I make my way to Newspaper club, my only after—school activity. Our chief editor, Ralph, has a habit of making the meetings so painfully boring, I sometimes contemplate gouging my eyes and eardrums out with the tip of my dull pencil. It would probably be less painful than listening to him ramble on about how much we suck.

  Regardless, I want to hone my writing skills because, as soon as I ditch this crappy little town, I will publish my first novel and make it big. I do not plan to go to college. In fact, as soon as the last bell rings senior year, I am getting on that big, silver bus and heading out of town. Until then, I have another three dull years stuck here.

  “What the holy crap?” Liv cuts through my thoughts. She’s my best and only friend in this hellhole they are trying to pass off as a place for a higher education when really it is a mildewed building with tired teachers and pissed off adolescents, “Can you believe this?” she asks as shoves a lavender-colored piece of paper under my nose.

  “No, because I haven’t taught my nose to read yet.” I try to take the paper from her, but she snatches it away and waves it frantically above her head.

  “Juliet! That … that … that …”

  “Hussy?” I offer while she paces back and forth in front of me.

  “That hussy! She is running against me.” She spins on her heels to face me. “Eden! You have to do something about it! Dig up whatever dirt on her you can. Use your power of bad ass journalism skills to destroy her!” Liv lets out a high-pitched scream and storms off down the hall, it’s all my short legs can do to keep up with her.

  “Thanks, but I don’t know if my bad ass writing skills are up to a task as big as who is running for homecoming queen.”

  Liv stops dead in her tracks, turning on her feet, her face so close to mine our noses almost touch. “Winning homecoming queen is everything to me. It’s one of those important milestones in a young woman’s life. It’s right up there with first kisses, periods, and marriage. It’s everything! Everything!”

  I roll my eyes at her melodramatics. “I don’t think periods—”

  She cuts me off before I can finish. “If I don’t win, I am destined to marry young, become overweight, have a dozen kids, and drive a minivan! Eden, a minivan!” She shakes me by the shoulders, trying to drive home the point.

  “Hey, my aunt drives a minivan,” I quip.

  Liv lets out another impressive scream as if the thought of a minivan is too painful to bare. “I cannot drive a minivan,” she yells, being over dramatic and earning us a few looks from the people passing by.

  “Wow, I didn’t know so much rode on the fragile shoulders of becoming homecoming queen! And here I thought homecoming was nothing more than a football game, crappy music, spiked punch, bad decorations, and a date that sits in a corner while you and your girlfriends gyrate on the makeshift dance floor of our high school gym. I feel like an idiot! How could I have been so wrong for all these years? If I only knew, I would have run myself.”

  Liv ignores my sarcasm. That’s how we work. I say something sarcastic, and she takes no notice.

  “It’s mine, Eden. Mine. If Juliet thinks she can run against me and win … Ha. She has another thing coming. Bring it on, Juliet.” She is no longer talking to me, but to herself. Liv has gone to a dark, dangerous place in the mind of a teenage girl.

  And people think I am the freak.

  “Come back to the light, Liv! Follow the sound of my voice,” I joke.

  She ignores me. “If you were a true friend, you would do some major digging.” She pokes one of her pointy, french-manicured fingers deep into my shoulder.

  “Ouch. Hey, I thought I was a pretty good friend.” I rub at the spot, realizing I am destined to have a bruise today. “I listen to your crap that I don’t care about. A.K.A. boys, clothes, crap, boys, makeup, crap, boys, cheerleading, crap, boys, school, oh, and boys,” I say to deaf ears as I follow behind her.

  “Just remember, Eden, who put her own health at risk to play board games with you for a week when you got mono from kissing Buck in the seventh grade.” Her lip curls back in a snarl, showing off her perfectly straight teeth.

  I roll my eyes at her. “Fine. Geez. And I didn’t get mono from kissing Buck. It was from drinking out of the school water fountain,” I state in a matter-of-fact tone. Okay, so I totally did get mono from kissing Buck and everyone knows it. I don’t know what is more embarrassing, showing up to school after I tried to cut my bangs and getting a little snippy-snip happy, or walking into school and having everyone know about my seven minutes in heaven that ended with a pretty sucky first kiss and me catching a super bug.

  “What about the time Juliet made out with Coach Bowlin? We could expose her.” Liv’s eyes are filling with desperation.

  “I think Juliet will manage to flip it to benefit herself. Think of the publicity. Coach Bowlin, the pervert, taking advantage of poor Juliet,” I reply.

  “You are right! We cannot give her anything that might boost her popularity. There is no bad publicity, right?” She punches her open palm.

  “I think you should just forget about Juliet. I don’t even know what you’re freaking out for. You know you’ll win.”

  Everything Liv tries out for, or runs for, she gets. Cheer captain, class president, and homecoming queen. She is the complete opposite of me. Liv and I have nothing in common— from our social status to our school involvement. Not even our looks are close to being similar.

  She has straight A’s, and I am barely passing. She is tall and thin, but I am not. She has small, delicate facial features, and I have a crooked nose, round cheeks, and a pointy chin. She has long, lush, curly red hair and huge brown eyes, and I have limp, mousy brown hair and dull blue-green eyes. Despite coming from a large family on a single income, she always manages to dress in the latest fashion. It is as if she just stepped out of the most current issue of Vogue.

  Me, not so much. I look more like I stepped out of the circular for a discount store. People flock to Liv while they avoid me like I have the Bubonic Plague. I’m not feeling sorry for myself, that’s just how it is, and I am fine with it.

  The only reason Liv and I are friends is because our mothers were best friends who did everything together, including having me and Liv a month apart. Little did they know, I would end up an outcast. I don’t think they would have pushed the friendship between us as hard as they did if they had known. Liv takes a lot of slack for being my friend, but she is loyal and true, and for that I love her.

  “I will see what I can do,” I say, realizing there’s going to be no fighting her on the matter. Not only does she have it in her head that Juliet is after her, she sticks her bottom lip out, pouting like a 2 year old.

  “I knew you would come through.” She pulls me into a hug with a force that sends me back a step to keep my balance. “You’re the best! I will see you after practice.” She lets go of me
and flitters down the hall.

  Shrugging my bag back on, I make my way to the news room.

  The Newspaper is a dying club, but we are still hanging on. Luckily, creating the e-edition of the C.F. Gazette saved our shabby little newspaper. Of course, I’m late, so when I enter, everyone looks at me from the round table.

  “Late!” Ralph snaps and points a pen at me.

  No! Really, Sherlock?

  “Sorry.” I drop my bag on the floor and glance at Max, who drags his pointer finger across his neck and hangs his tongue out of his mouth. Stifling a laugh, I take my seat at the round table.

  “I take it you have a good reason for being fifteen minutes late.” Ralph glares at me through his square-framed glasses. Unfortunately, he’s had it out for me ever since I refused his enticing invitation to dinner and a make-out session behind the Dairy Queen.

  Dude, get over it and move on.

  “Girl issues,” I sing and take out my notebook.

  “Eden, please. T.M.I.,” Ralph says with a hint of annoyance before he continues with his rant though no one ever listens to him rattle on.

  Lindsay is making tiny hearts around her and her boyfriend’s initials on her paper, and Tim is checking out Lindsay’s shirt, which is exposing way too much to the group. I glance over at Max’s lap and watch him play Angry Birds on his phone.

  “So does anyone have any thoughts on the matter?” Ralph finishes, wheezing. He pulls his inhaler out of his pocket and takes a deep breath, inhaling the mist.

  I perk up. I have no thought on the matter because I don’t have a clue what Ralph was saying, but now is the perfect time to carry out Liv’s plan. “I have an idea.”

  “Oh great,” he says, rolling his eyes and running a hand through his greasy black hair, smoothing it back into its ponytail. “Please share with us,” he says sarcastically.

  “Homecoming: A wholesome source of entertainment, or a cruel underground competition between today’s youth?” I spread my hands in the air to add pizazz.

  Okay, so the title sucks, but I can work on it.

  Ralph opens his mouth in protest, but I push on, turning to the other members at the table.

  “What is homecoming? A dance? Innocent fun? A football game? Or is it more? I want to go deep and find out the ugly truth on how it turns seemingly normal, sane, high school girls into conniving psychos, and to what lengths they’ll go to have the perfect night. Like homecoming will determine their futures!”

  I finish giving my amazing pitch and smile around the room, stopping on Max, who is smiling back at me and nodding his head in approval.

  “No,” Ralph says without even giving it a thought.

  “No?” I repeat slowly, giving him a chance to change his mind.

  “No. As fascinating as it sounds,” he rolls his eyes, “no one will read that crap,” Ralph says, pulling out a paper from a large pile.

  “Crap. Now that’s going a little far. Sure, my pitch needed work, but—”

  “No.” Ralph says, his face turning a bright shade of red from anger.

  “I would read it. It’s a great pitch,” Lindsay pipes up, coming to my defense.

  Girl power. I give her a smile that says, ‘I have her back anytime she needs it.’ I look over at Max for help, but he has become extremely interested in a ketchup stain on his pants. Coward.

  Ralph ignores us and continues to hand out the assignments. “Lindsay, you’re on fashion and the dating Q and A’s this week. Max, I need you investigating that smell coming from the cafeteria …”

  I can’t believe this. I flop down in my chair and cross my arms, seething at Ralph. I wonder if anyone would notice if he suddenly went missing.

  “And, Eden, you’re covering sports.” He tosses a list of names in front of me, and I stare at it. “You are going to interview the top athletes at C.F.H.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding me,” I mutter as I silently read the names.

  1. Olivia McCalister

  2. Daniel Myers

  3. Juliet Smith

  4. Buck Warren

  5. Cardelian Valentine

  “How can they be our top athletes if we never win anything? Plus, this is Cardelian Valentine’s first year playing! He just moved here and has never stepped foot on the field. For all we know, he could suck. How can he be on this list? And Daniel is on the chess team. Chess is not a sport,” I protest.

  “Consider yourself lucky. Not only do you get to interview the hottest guy in school, but you also get to leave this room,” Lindsay mutters, glancing at Ralph with a look of disgust.

  I wonder if he offered her the same enticing date as me as Ralph ignores us and passes out the rest of the assignments.

  I turn to Max, who still will not meet my gaze. Either he is really hungry, or he feels bad for not helping me. I’m mad at him, but I decide to give him a lead anyway.

  “I saw the lunch lady digging in the dumpster yesterday. You might want to start there.”

  He looks up at me and smiles. “Thanks, Eden,” he says quietly.

  I wave him off. “Yeah, yeah, whatever.”

  I wait until the room is empty before attempting to change Ralph’s mind again. “Ralph, you cannot expect me to write this assignment,” I say, shoving the offensive piece of paper away from me.

  “You know, Eden, you’re lucky you even got this assignment … with your grades what they are.”

  “Wait, what? What about grades? They have nothing to do with how I write. Hey, how do you know what my grades look like anyway?”

  Ralph nervously scrambles behind a desk. “Being a teacher’s assistant earns me certain privileges,” he says defensively.

  “Oh my goodness, you were totally creeping! Who else’s grades did you look at?”

  “I wasn’t. Mr. Richards gave me the task of entering grades into the system. It’s not my fault you have missing assignments in all of your classes.”

  Ralph is so getting written into my novel … So I can kill him off! Maybe I will give him a flesh-eating virus.

  “I am the best writer you have! And you give me sports? Give me something to show my talent.”

  This ruffles his greasy feathers because he knows I am the best. “I am the editor-in-chief and you will write what I tell you to,” he bellows.

  I don’t respond because I’m too busy picturing him with oozing boils.

  Chapter Two

  I hang onto the handle as Liv speeds through the narrow streets, missing an elderly couple crossing the road by mere inches, but managing to hit every pothole.

  “I don’t get what you are complaining about. You get to interview some of the hottest guys at school,” she counters after I finish my tirade on my belittling assignment.

  “Daniel is far from hot, and Buck is a rude, sexist pig who smells like corn chips.” I put my feet on the dashboard and pull a soda can out from under me, adding it to the pile on the floorboard.

  “He does not,” she says defensively, wrinkling her perfect little button nose. Liv dated Buck for a week last year, and she takes her dating life seriously.

  “I am not judging you, Liv.” I reach over and hit her on the knee. “Some girls find the smell of corn chips attractive.”

  She ignores me and changes the subject. “At least now you have a reason to get closer to Juliet.” She smiles impishly at me as she takes a sharp right turn.

  “Yay, just what I want to do. Get close to Juliet,” I roll my eyes.

  She slams on the brakes in front of my house, painting the side of her truck with a mixture of fresh mud and gravel. “Are we still on for tonight or what?” she asks, annoyed with me.

  I look up at the small yellow cottage that I share with my aunt. She was the only one willing to take care of me after my parents died. Not even my charming grandmother had wanted me.

  But, the truth is I am the one who takes care of her. She suffers from paranoia and schizophrenia, and spends half her day at the senior citizen center playing bingo, and the other ha
lf on the Internet researching alien abductions. I once came home to find the entire roof covered in tin foil, and the fence lined with pie tins. She read a website that putting tinfoil on the ceiling will prevent aliens from entering a dwelling because they are allergic to metal.

  “Remind me again when I agreed to go with you?” I ask.

  “I swear, Eden, it’s like you don’t even listen to me when I talk!” Liv is one of seven children which causes her to have issues with not being heard.

  “Huh?” I say.

  Liv’s mouth drops open, and she throws her hands in the air, exasperated. “Ore Pond and you better not flake out this time,” she says.

  “Just kidding! Don’t go getting your panties in a bunch,” I say as I open the door and get out.

  Ore Pond was an old mining shaft that was flooded by underground rivers and became a local hang out for teenagers. The only way to it is up a winding, washed-out dirt road, making it the perfect party spot.

  “Promise me, Eden Marie Day,” Liv shouts as I shut the door and start jogging up the stairs to my house. “Eden!” This time, my name comes out like a high-pitched screech.

  “I’ll see. After all, it’s a school night,” I call back and quickly shut the front door before I get into a battle I know I’ll lose.

  I have no intentions of going to Ore Pond. I know how that scenario will play out. I’ll be stuck with Liv and her boyfriend, Jamie, they will get into a fight and then take turns arguing their points to me so that I can pick a side. I will tell them five hundred times that I’m not getting into the middle of it. They’ll break up, and after receiving fifteen minutes of the silent treatment, Jamie will eventually remember that Liv is the love of his life. Then they’ll spend the rest of the night making out while I sit on the frozen, muddy ground, coming up with plots for my stories. I’d much rather stay inside where it’s warm in the comfort of my bed.

  I kick off my shoes by the door and wiggle my toes, letting them defrost.

  “Eden, is that you?” my aunt calls from the living room.