*Shoutout to jk_091 for the amazing cover! I will post the other two she made in the next chapters. She takes requests!
*Its always been a struggle for me to post my writing (hence the lack of basically any information on my profile) but if y'all like this story and leave any positive feedback, just know it absolutely means the world to me.
*The next few chapters might be kind of slow, but I promise it's building up to something better
"Charity."
A fuzzy, soft thing was tickling my nose, and there was something wet on my cheeks.
"Charity."
It wasn't an uncomfortable sensation at all, actually, and I was lying on something so soft and comfortable I saw no problem with just staying like this forever...
"CHARITY GRACE PAXTON, WAKE UP RIGHT NOW!"
"Ah!"
I bolted upright, and Tucker jumped back quickly with a whimper.
"Sorry baby," I apologized to him.
Ariel stood in front of me, hair sticking up in every angle imaginable, makeup smeared under her eyes. Somehow, she still looked like a K-drama actress, even with rumpled clothes and what was sure to be a hangover. We were both still in the same clothes we'd worn to the party last night.
"What the hell happened?" She asked. "Why are you asleep on my floor?"
"It's your beanbag," I corrected. The Kims had a spare bedroom next to Ariel's room that basically belonged to me, but after I'd finally dragged Ariel upstairs the previous night, I'd been so exhausted and the beanbag looked so soft and inviting that I'd just collapsed.
Last night!
A blur of memories flashed through my mind like a high-speed montage.
"Shit," I breathed.
"Yeah. Shit." Ariel flopped down on her plush carpet and spread her arms out like she was about to make a snow angel.
"Did I hallucinate or did Brett Ashmore drive us to Whataburger?"
"You were pretty adamant about going."
She blinked. "I am never drinking again."
"Don't make promises you can't keep, Ari."
"What else happened?"
Haltingly, I told her everything I remembered, omitting the part where I told Brett about my mom. Not that I didn't trust him to keep it a secret, but some part of me balked at the idea of facing him at math team practice on Monday after so dramatically dishing out my dirty laundry like that. Not to mention everything else that had happened...the flash of painful vulnerability in his eyes, the warm, solid comfort of his arms when he saved me from my attacker, the gentleness of his fingers in my hair.
Had I had some really weird, lucid dream or had all of that actually happened?
Ariel, for once, wasn't focusing on that.
"What the fuck?! Are you okay, Charity? Oh my God, I feel so awful; I should have gone with you to the bathroom--"
"Ariel. How could this possibly be your fault? Besides, I'm fine...thanks to. Thanks to...Brett."
Only then did her eyebrows slant up into an expression of the Ariel I loved and knew. "So he basically charged in and became your knight in shining armor?"
"Yeah." I decided not to say anything about how hot he looked breaking down that door, how all my terror was replaced by security and warmth when he bent down beside me and looked at me with those eyes full of concern...
"That is so--"
She caught sight of my warning look.
"Okay, it's not appropriate to find this situation romantic in any way. Forget it, Char, my lips are sealed. Let's clean up, and I'll drive you to the police station."
"You'll come with me?" I was so grateful for this I hugged her.
"Is that even a question? Of course, girl."
It felt good to wash last night away in the hot spray of the shower. Over my years at Eastwood, I hadn't gone to many parties and hadn't had many crazy experiences--or many social experiences, period. Ariel was pretty much my only friend. The strange events of last night swirled uncomfortably in my head; I didn't know what to make of them. The alcohol cast a blur over everything, making the night even more surreal.
About an hour and a half later, Ariel was driving me back from the police station. The police had taken down my statement and description and promised they'd do their best to find the guy, but I wasn't so confident. All I wanted was for him to at least catch the authorities' eyes enough so that no girl would become his next victim.
People like that--if you can even call them people--
Brett's tortured voice replayed in my brain, and I shivered. Calm, collected Brett had looked like he could kill the guy if he ever got his hands on him.
"You want to stay for breakfast, Charity?"
"Nah, I should probably head home. My mom will be worried."
"Are you going to tell her what happened?"
I shook my head vehemently. "She'd freak out and find some way to blame herself. It wouldn't help anything."
"Okay," Ariel said softly. "Well, I'm always here if you need anything."
I smiled at her gratefully. "I know." It wasn't that I didn't trust my mom. She just had so much on her plate already I really needed her to think I was doing fine at Eastwood, not being picked on at school and attacked at parties. She was always happy to hear of me going off to dances or football games; the last thing she needed was to think I wasn't safe there. For as long as I'd known her, Ariel had willingly been my emotional support, knowing I didn't want to burden my mom, and that was a debt I'd never be able to repay her.
Not that Ariel, bless her, would ever even think of that as a debt.
****************************************
The next time I saw Brett was on Monday at Mu Alpha Theta practice. He was sitting in a seat near the front of the classroom, staring straight ahead as if there was something truly fascinating on the blank whiteboard. I knew he'd seen me come in, but he didn't even raise his eyes in acknowledgement.
It felt wrong to pass by him without saying anything after he'd been so great during the series of catastrophes on Friday, so as I passed by his desk, I said, "Hey Brett."
"Hey," he replied flatly, still not meeting my eyes.
So we were back to this.
"Look, about Friday--"
"We don't have to talk about it." I don't want to talk about it, his tone said.
"Well, okay, we don't have to, but I really appreciate--"
"You already thanked me, Charity." His tone was icy.
"Brett--"
"Miss Paxton! Is chit-chat going to help us beat Hillcrest in two weeks?" Mr. Brenner glared at me.
Flustered, I took a seat. "Sorry, sir."
That was how it was all week. Whatever sweetness or warmth I'd felt from Brett the night of the party seemed to have definitely been a misunderstanding on my part. He didn't say a word to me at a single practice, not even to call me "Blondie" or make a sarcastic comment as he seemed prone to do without even realizing it. Whenever I tried to meet his eyes, he looked away. His handsome features looked carved of stone, discouraging any attempt to break the icy wall that seemed to have settled between us for no reason.
His only interaction with me was his absolute demolition of me during practices.
Even Mr. Brenner picked up on the hostility. After practice on Friday, he called both Brett and me up to his desk and told us to "get it together" and "work it out" or he'd send one of the alternates on the first meet. For whatever unfathomable reason, his eyes traveled to me when he said that.
That was sarcasm, by the way. Given how competitive Mr. Brenner was, he'd probably send Brett to compete even if he committed murder. Brett was so good he was even making the returning seniors look mediocre. There was no question as to who the weak link on the team was--it was so depressing I was starting to wonder if maybe Juliet would be better for the team after all.
"Is there something about that night you're not telling me?" Ariel demanded when I poured out my tale of woe to her over the phone that weekend.
"I don't know," I sighed. "Maybe I said something stupid because of the alcohol, and now he hates me."
"It can't be that. I could've sworn he was starting to like you, see you as a friend, even."
"No way, Ariel. He doesn't like anyone." A week ago, I wouldn't have said that, but now I wasn't so sure. Despite being the undisputed star on the varsity football team with Noah gone, Brett never even so much as cracked a smile to the guys who looked at him with awe in the hallways nor the girls who batted their eyelashes at him. The few times I saw him on my way to class, he was always walking alone, never surrounded by jocks the way Noah was.
"That's not possible, Char. That boy is hiding something, and it has nothing to do with you."
I wondered why it even bothered me so much, why I was taking it so personally. Was it because of how he'd saved me at the party? Or something else?
The week that led up to our first district meet against Hillcrest also happened to be homecoming week. In fact, Brett had to play in the homecoming game on Friday, attend the meet bright and early on Saturday, then make it to the dance that night. Yes, the dance was a requirement, because despite his downright sociopathy, Brett was nominated for homecoming court for the junior class.
I became aware of that fact on Monday morning when I tossed my books into my locker, turned around, and found my face inches away from Vanessa's. She was so close I could count her fake eyelashes individually.
"Personal space much?"
Vanessa ignored this. "Charity case! Vote for me and Brett for homecoming king and queen! Every voice counts--even ones from the homeless population!"
"That's real funny, Vanessa. Absolutely hilarious. So original. I've definitely never heard you psycho blonde friend make that joke before."
Vanessa flinched. I knew Lacey was a touchy subject. She had been nominated too, and for the first time, there seemed to be animosity brewing between the psycho twins. It would've been funny if it hadn't translated to them being 10 times more annoying than usual to other innocent bystanders.
"Whatever, well, make sure you vote for me and Brett! We'd make the best, cutest king and queen."
"Only seniors are king and queen." For our school, the winners of the freshmen class were called duke and duchess, sophomores were called lord and lady, juniors were prince and princess, and seniors were king and queen. It was cheesy as hell, but the underclassmen loved the extra opportunities to win.
Vanessa waved away those technicalities. "You're just jealous because you won't be nominated in a million years."
"Is this how you campaign for votes?"
"Vote for me, Charity case!"
The nomination had gone straight to her head and turned her into a lunatic.
Wait, what was she before, then?
Noah had won junior prince last year, but since he couldn't participate in the homecoming game this year, he wasn't even nominated for king. In the past, Vanessa had never been nominated because no one wanted to upset Lacey, but this year, obviously some unbalance of power had taken place. Honestly, I was so done with every single person at Eastwood. They were all soulles--except Ariel of course.
The only sweet, wholesome part of the week was that Charlie had asked Rebecca to homecoming, and she'd said yes. I didn't see how she couldn't--Charlie had made a giant, cardboard poster with Becks written on top; then, on the second row, he'd somehow arranged a huge, Styrofoam letter Q, taped a bottle of Arizona green tea (Becca's favorite drink), and taped a plate with a slice of home-made apple pie (one of Becca's favorite desserts) to spell out "Cutie-pie", then finished off with "hoco with me?" on the bottom row. Add to that a dozen roses, and what girl wouldn't swoon?
"That was so cute; I think I'm going to cry," Ariel gasped, watching the two freshmen hug in the foyer among cheering and applause. I didn't see Brett in the crowd gathering around them. "Why can't someone ask me like that?"
Two days later, Ariel got her wish. Dalton Andrews, a cute soccer player who sat behind her in pre-calculus, showed up with a Flounder (from the Little Mermaid) stuffed animal, a box of chocolates, and a poster that said "You're A-riel princess, can I be part of your world at hoco?" and Ariel screamed and rushed into his arms. She'd sworn she'd decapitate anyone who used Little Mermaid puns on her, but apparently, that wasn't the case.
I was happy for her, I really was. I hugged her and jumped up and down and did all the girl squealing that was appropriate. But a selfish, awful part of me was a little down at becoming the definite third-wheel for the dance. Being Ariel, she had decided that I had to come and refused to take no for an answer.
All in all, I was not looking forward to the weekend. First, having to sit through the homecoming game pep rally and watch Vanessa and Brett be crowned prince and princess would be nauseating. (They were guaranteed to win, according to sources). Then, since I had to stay over at Ariel's house that night in order to make the morning bus for the Mu Alpha Theta meet, she would undoubtedly drag me to the homecoming game, where I'd be forced to witness more of Vanessa and Brett. After that, I'd have to get up at the butt crack of dawn to travel to Hillcrest with Brett, who apparently hated me for an undisclosed reason, then get dolled up for a dance for which I was dateless for the third year in the row to watch...more Vanessa and Brett. Whoever got voted for each class were unspoken dates, after all.
I was going to need a lot of therapy (i.e. ice cream and depressing music) after this was over.
*****************************************
"AND! YOU'RE! JUNIORRR PRINCE. AND. PRINCESS. AREEE!"
I wondered if saying every word like its own sentence was part of the training needed for student council president. It was the pep rally before the homecoming game, and while I usually enjoyed pep rallies because it meant classes got cut short, today, the noise in the gym was giving me a headache. Or maybe it was the 50-pound mums it seemed like half the gym was wearing. Everywhere I looked, girls were practically staggering under the weight of the glittery masses of flowers, teddy bears, and sparkling letters, but they'd never take them off. The mums were what separated the dates from the dateless. What can I say? It's a Texas tradition.
"DRUMROLL. PLEASE."
Out on the gym floor, Vanessa stood with her chin tilted up, pom-poms poised like a person in an ad for cheerleading uniforms, a mega-watt smile beamed at the audience. Lacey stood beside her, expression sour, chest thrust forward to show off her cheer captain badge as if to remind everyone who really was in charge here.
Or maybe she was just trying to show how her boobs were bigger than Vanessa's.
The third nominee, some girl I didn't recognize, looked like she'd rather be anywhere but there. Melanie Carlisle. I'd voted for her because she was the only human of the three, but who was I kidding? She wouldn't win. That wasn't how Eastwood worked.
As for the guys, there were two JV football players plus Brett. The JV nominees were smiling gamely, bodies already angled towards Brett as they waited for the inevitable. Brett...well, he looked the same as Melanie. Like he'd rather be anywhere but there.
I'd voted for him out of sheer spite.
"BR-EHHHHTT AAAASHMORRRE. AND. VAN-EHHH-SSA. RIIIICE!"
"Omigod!" Vanessa honest-to-God squealed. "Oh. Migosh!" She threw her pom-poms around Brett's neck and planted a kiss on his cheek, just like she'd done two weeks ago at the football game.
"Babe! We won!"
"Unbelievable," Ariel murmured in my ear.
"What do you expect?"
The audience was too busy cheering on her antics to notice Brett discreetly wipe the lipstick print off his face and move his body ever so slightly away from her. Too late. The yearbook photographer had definitely caught the kiss on camera.
Since Brett refused to show any facial expressions other than those of a zombie, Vanessa turned to torment Lacey instead. "Are you happy for me, Lace?" Her voice oozing fake sweetness, she turned to Lacey for a hug, which Lacey had no choice but to give, though with a face that looked like she had just drunk spoiled milk and gotten punched in the stomach.
I almost felt sorry for her, then remembered she'd be acting the exact same way if she'd won over Vanessa.
"ALRIGHT. QUIET. DOWN." Sean Klein resumed his staccato yelling that was somehow supposed to represent overwhelming school spirit.
"AND. THE MOMENT. Y'ALL HAVE BEEN. WAITING. FOR. YOURRR HOME-COMINGGG KING. AND. QUEEN. AREEEE." He paused dramatically, and I rolled my eyes. We all knew what was coming.
"DRUMROLL, PLEASE."
The audience participated gamely. Why? Why did we have to go through this ritual?
"YOU'LL FIND OUT. AT. THE. FOOTBALL GAME. TONIGHT. 7 PM. BE THERE."
The bleachers erupted into cheers, and the band started our school song, indicating the pep rally was over. Thank God.
"You're in a mood," Ariel observed, as I shot to my feet and started for the exit as quickly as possible.
"Not in a particularly school-spirity mood right now."
"Honestly, Char, I ship you with Brett for no other reason than the fact that you can be sulking twins."
"Let's not talk about Brett right now, please."
"Why not?"
I gasped, because that wasn't Ariel's voice.
Swiveling around, I found myself staring straight into Brett's hazel eyes and perfectly tanned face.
"I find I am often a great topic of conversation."
"Brett. Are you talking to me again?"
"No, I'm talking to the wall," he deadpanned, giving me his signature sardonic half-smile that I hadn't seen for the past week. "Remember that bet we made at the start of school? How we'd each get to make the other person do one thing?"
"If you want me to kill Vanessa, I'm sorry because as much as I want to, I'm not a big fan of going to jail."
He actually laughed. After a week of unexplained silence, he actually laughed like we were a couple of old pals.
"Something else, Blondie."
"What is it?" I asked wearily.
"Will you go to homecoming with me? As my date?"