"This project blows," Michael huffs, leaning back in his chair and blowing his fringe away from his face. His hair is a dark blue now. He dyed it the morning after Luke's. How he still has hair left I really don't know.
"You blow," I retaliate, sorting through my piles and piles of work.
"You do," he says back, grinning cheekily. "At least you wish you did. For Ashton."
I drop my sheets of paper and look around the library in alarm. "Michael!" I hiss, giving him a 'what the hell' look.
He shrugs. "Am I not wrong?"
"You are," I snap. "And can you please drop this whole thing?"
"Why?"
"Because."
"Because why?"
"It, just like you, is annoying."
"It, just like me, is annoying because you're trying to ignore it," he states simply, picking at the dirt under his fingernails. "And, honey, you couldn't ignore me if you tried."
I just roll my eyes. "I thought you hated me," I say. "Wouldn't me ignoring you be a dream?"
Michael hesitates, pondering my statement. "Somewhat. But I know you're only ignoring me because I have dirt on you."
"You do not."
"Oh, don't I?" He leans forward. "Are you sure about that?"
I dump my papers down, completely losing all focus from them. My gaze on him is strong. "Seriously, what's the aim? What do you want out of all of this?"
"There is no aim, Ella," Michael replies. "At least, not for me anyway. You're the one who wants an outcome."
"Nothing's gonna happen anyway," I state. I was just saying it to seem humble. I really did hope there would be an outcome.
"Are you sure?"
"Why?" My ears perk up. "Did he say something about me?"
Michael rolls his eyes. "You girls are all the same. Even you, Miss Bionic Woman, the one with no heart, still gets all mushy over a boy."
I try and ignore his harsh insult. I've heard worse. At least he didn't make a comment about my weight. "I am not all 'mushy'," I argue.
"What are you then?"
"I'm just ... I'm ... interested."
Michael snorts. "Yeah. And I'm interested in Megan Fox. You're in love with the guy, Ella. Admit that you have been since you were seven years old."
I falter. Could Michael be right? I don't know if I would go as far as saying love. I mean, I love a lot of things. Like the new Chanel Fall line, or my cream Vuitton tote, or my Jimmy Choo pumps, and Ben & Jerry's cotton candy ice cream, and The Notebook, but could I really love Ashton? Was he really in my line of things I loved? I barely even knew the guy. I just had an interest in him. I mean, sure, I liked him. What wasn't there to like? But love? And since I was seven?
I realise I've totally dazed out in my own Ashton world and when I come to again I find that I'm not the only one. I catch Michael talking to a petite brunette, round glasses perched on her nose. She holds about three chunky textbooks in her arms and seems to be laughing hysterically at whatever Michael has to say, which seems strange. Because nothing Michael has to say is even remotely interesting let alone funny. I watch this interaction curiously, like I'm watching the new Sandra Bullock movie.
"So I'll see you there?" The girl asks Michael, pushing up her glasses from her nose.
"Yeah, uh, yeah. I think so," Michael stammers.
"I hope so." The girl smiles. "I'll see you around." Michael stammers some lousy reply and then she walks off.
And I laugh.
In fact, I cackle.
Michael turns to me, red cheeks and all. "What the fuck are you laughing at?"
"Cool flirting," I say.
"I was not flirting," he snaps, a bit too quickly.
"Oh?" I raise my eyebrow. "Uh, I, uh ... yeah," I mock, bursting into laughter again.
"Shut up." He looks around cautiously. "Shut up! She might hear you!"
"Who is she?" I look over his shoulder at the brunette who's joined her friends.
He looks down, his cheeks turning a darker shade of pink. "Natalie," he says. "She's in my Math."
"Does she know you have a massive crush on her?"
He looks up, wide eyed.
"Oh, come on," I say. "You don't?"
"I-"
"Ha! Maybe you should go clean yourself up," I say, pausing for about a million years before I drop my massive bomb. "Because I got dirt on you, son!"
Michael's face and his hair make him turn into the colour purple. "You better keep it the fuck down," he hisses.
I lower my gaze. "You help me get Ashton, I'll help you get little miss study buddy over there." I raise my eyebrow, waiting his response.
He looks at me for five Christmases, and I can tell he's trying to think of every alternate situation that isn't this. But he finally gives in and sighs. "Alright, Stanford. You've got yourself a deal."
---------
"Victoria James is a total slut and everyone knows it."
I sit down at the usual lunch table, sliding in beside Calum who's hastily eating his ham sandwich. The other boys are too caught up in their gossip to notice me. That's usually the case. These boys gossip unlike anyone else I've ever met. Possibly more than me, and that's saying something.
"Hey, Ella," Calum says once he's swallowed his mouthful.
"Hi," I reply, opening up my salad.
"You're just saying that because she wouldn't let you feel her up after the big game last November." Michael scoffs at Luke, stuffing about a dozen fries into his mouth.
"No, Ink Head," Luke snaps, "I'm saying that because she did."
"Victoria James," Ashton repeats like he's some poet. "Who is that again?"
"The one with pink hair," Calum speaks up. "You fucked her last summer."
"Oh yeah." Ashton chugs back his soda. "She is a slut."
"Thank you," Luke says. "Screw you, Michael."
"Like anyone would screw Michael." Ashton laughs. "Not even Victoria James."
"Fuck you, Ashton," Michael snaps.
"Look, all I'm saying is," Luke says, "Victoria James likes to fuck."
"And she's pretty good at it," Ashton adds with a smirk.
My mouthful of lettuce turns into sawdust. Why does Ashton always have to be so vulgar? It's disgusting to be reminded of how many girls he's screwed. And why does he feel so proud? Does he see it as some great accomplishment? Does he screw to get respect, to make his way higher up the food chain? I will literally never understand him.
"Yeah, yeah. I still think you're both full of shit." Michael chows down more fries.
"She has pink hair. Need I say more?"
"She goes to church!" Michael cries.
"Church girls like to fuck," Ashton says.
"The kinkiest of them all," Luke adds.
"Why are we talking about Victoria James?" I ask everyone, unable to handle being out of the loop anymore.
"Because she's a slut," Calum tells me.
"Because Michael likes her," Luke says.
I raise my eyebrow at Michael, trying to telepathically ask him 'what about Natalie?' He just clears his throat and shoves Luke. "I said I found her hot, doesn't mean I like her."
"If you find them hot, you like them. The two go hand in hand." Luke dusts the salt of his hands like he's Jesus. "You can't like someone you don't find hot, and you can't find someone hot you don't like."
"You are so delusional it actually hurts me," Michael mumbles.
Luke just looks at him. "What does that mean?"
"Okay, so I've been thinking." Ashton lays his arms down on the table and almost gives me a heart attack with his muscles being so close to my hands. I slowly retract them and hold onto my salad to stop myself from shaking. "With what to do with the band. So listen up."
We all listen up.
"I reckon we put the money we won from the carnival to savings. For our own proper gig. I say we hire out some venue, choose a night, and invite as many people as we can. Twenty bucks a pop. It'll be a real chance to showcase our sound, you know. Be heard. Put flyers up around the school, get everyone to support. What do you think?"
"Sounds good." Calum says mid-chew. "I was thinking the same. How about Barkley? It'd be pricey, but it'd be worth it. It sits a lot of people, and if we can fill all those seats up we'd make a killing."
"Barkley?" Luke cuts in. "That shitty performance theatre where the gay kids run around in tights doing renditions of Shakespeare?"
"It's a theatre, Luke. It has a stage and seats," Ashton says. "That's what we need."
"What's wrong with the pubs?" Luke counteracts.
"The pubs are a piece of shit," Ashton cries. "That's what's wrong."
"Yeah, Luke," Calum agrees. "We can't keep playing at stingy pubs to drunk middle aged men. We need to expand our audience."
"We need to actually get an audience," Ashton adds.
"Our audience are the people in the pubs," Luke argues defensively. "We're just a garage band, stop acting like we're anything more. I say we split the money fairly and spend it how we like."
"Are you fucking serious?" Ashton cries. "Do you even give a shit about this band?"
"Why? Because I don't want to spend our hard earned money on some stupid theatre? That makes me suddenly not give a shit about the band?"
"How do you think we're ever gonna go anywhere if we stay performing in pubs?"
"And you think a theatre is such a change? It doesn't matter on the location, Ashton. The same people live in this town."
"You just want the money to buy dope," Michael steps in.
"I want the money to spend however the fuck I please," Luke defends. "Because I earned it."
"We all earned it, fuckwit!"
"Who's the lead singer?"
Suddenly the whole table goes silent and I swear the entire school does too. Not a single sound is heard, anywhere. I look around, a little frightened. Is this the end of the world?
Ashton then slams his fists down on the table, proving my theory that yes, this is the end of the word, and he gets to his feet. "Go fuck yourself, Luke," he seethes, grabbing his backpack and storming off. I watch him go, wondering if I should run after him or not. He turns the corner and I lose my chance.
"Go fuck yourself!" Luke yells back. He turns back to the rest of the table. "God, what's his problem?"
Michael shakes his head, standing up and grabbing his own bag. "You're an asshole, Luke."
Calum stands as well, finishing the last bite of his sandwich. "It's about time you started giving a shit, man. Otherwise we'll find someone else who will."
"Oh, you're going to replace me?" Luke yells after them. "Yeah, good luck with that! Fucking losers!"
I then realise that I'm the last one at the table, all alone with a very angry Luke. I sit kind of frozen, unsure of what to do. I don't really want to get involved in this mess, mainly because I just don't care. But something tells me that's inevitable.
"Fucking cocksuckers." Luke throws his trash and kicks the table. It doesn't even move. "Ow, fuck!" He whines.
I push around my salad with my fork, trying to think of the best way to leave. Maybe if I just slide under the table, he won't notice? Maybe he doesn't even realise I'm still here.
"Can you believe how selfish they're being?" Luke asks me. Damnit. "Everything's always about the band. Blah blah, the band, blah blah. Like, we're not even famous. What's the big deal?"
I shrug. "I really don't know." I really didn't care either. I didn't get the appeal of this band, but it meant a lot to Ashton. And so whatever it was, it had to be important. Maybe Luke could lighten up a bit. "I think Ashton thinks it's a big deal."
"Why?" Luke pesters. "All he does is play drums. He doesn't even sing."
"He sings sometimes."
"I sing all the time and you don't see me throwing girly fits?"
"I don't really think I'm the best person to be talking to about this," I say, a little icily.
"Well, how can I talk to those pissheads when they left?"
"Luke." I sigh. "You seem like you know exactly what you're talking about a hundred percent of the time." I stand up and collect my things. "So how about you figure it out."
--------
"And then he had the nerve, the damn fucking nerve, to just say that. To my damn fucking face. You see this face? This is my face. You don't mess with this face."
I lean against the car window and sigh for the hundredth time that minute as Ashton continues to talk my ear off about how much of a dick Luke is. Like we already didn't know.
"I mean, can you believe it? How much of a prick he actually is? He gets everything he wants handed to him. Doesn't have a working bone in his body. Piece of shit," Ashton grumbles, rock music playing in-sync with his heavy breathing.
"What are you going to do?" I yawn.
"Me?" He repeats in horror. "Why should I be the one to do anything? He's the piece of shit that started it. He can apologise."
"Has he talked to you?"
"No. And I don't want him to. Honestly, I've put up with way too much of his shit. I'm done."
"And the others?"
"They'll stand by me. They know how much work Luke is."
I just roll my eyes. I really wasn't in the mood to be getting in the middle of a friendship feud. Especially between these dramatic boys. A fight between them would probably literally never end, and I just don't have that kind of stamina.
Ashton parks the truck and we pile out. He's still complaining when we get inside, but I've learnt to just nod and say 'mmm' every five seconds and tune him out. I throw my bag down the minute I get inside and pull myself onto a stool at the bar, grabbing an apple and biting into it aggressively.
"Good, you're home." Anne walks into the kitchen with a duffel bag in hand. Mum follows her looking the same.
"Where are you off to?" Ashton asks, jumping up on the counter and helping himself to a banana.
"We told you the other night," Anne explains, a little impatiently. "Sam and I are going to the city for a night."
My eyes widen. "What?" My mum was going to the city? Without me? Leaving me here alone? With Ashton? Alone? Ashton looks at me with the same look and I can tell he's thinking the exact same thing.
"You literally didn't," Ashton says. "Why are you going to the city? Can you, like, not?"
"Can I come?" I chirp.
"Our friend Dan is turning forty," Sam explains. Who? "And we think we deserve a night out."
"We'll only be gone for the night, back tomorrow afternoon."
What? No, no, no. There was no way my mother was going to leave me here with Ashton. And deserve a night out? I deserve a night out; a damn night out of this fucking town.
"Absolutely!" Ashton beams, shocking me and the mothers. "I remember now! You most definitely deserve a night out, why not make it two?"
I look at him with wide eyes. What the fuck was he doing?
Anne chuckles. "I don't know about that."
"Where are you staying?"
"We've booked a hotel," mum chirps, looking like some gleeful school girl. I eye her with disgust. How dare she go and live off in luxury and leave me suffering here all alone. "Check in is at five."
Ashton looks down at his wrist that wears no watch. "Well, you better hurry! It's almost time!" He jumps off the counter and grabs Anne's bags. "Let me help you load up your stuff."
I panic. This was not okay. This was seriously not okay. I thought Ashton was on the same page as me? What the hell was he doing, apart from ruining our lives?
"Yes! The plants! Yes, got it. Of course. Ring as soon as you arrive. Eggs in fridge. Yes. Alright. Yes. Okay. Alright, now. I will! Okay! Have fun! Alright, bye now! Don't do anything I wouldn't do! Ha ha! Alright! Sure will! Love ya!" Ashton slams the door shut and I scream at him the minute he does.
"Are you out of your mind?" I yell.
He waves me off and rushes to the window, peering out the gap in the curtain. He stands still.
"Ashton? Ashton! They can't go off to the city! For a whole night! What the hell are we meant to do?"
"Shut up!" He cries. He continues to peer out the window and I just watch him in utter confusion. Then he fist pumps the air. "Yes! They're gone!"
"Ashton, what-"
He rushes past me and grabs his phone out of his bag before dialling a number and holding it to his ear. He signals for me to be quiet.
"Mate! Hey! You free tonight?"
"Ashton, seriously, I-"
He waves his hand again. "Yeah, yeah. Hey, listen, you think you could gather some people together? Tell them there's a party at mine tonight."