 
# Ashlynn & the Secret Crush

## (My Complicated Life, #1)

## Jessica Sorensen
Ashlynn & the Secret Crush

Jessica Sorensen

All rights reserved.

Copyright © 2016 by Jessica Sorensen

This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.

No part of this book can be reproduced in any form or by electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without the permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer who may quote short excerpts in a review.

Any trademarks, service marks, product names or names featured are assumed to be the property of their respective owners, and are used only for reference. There is no implied endorsement if we use one of these terms.

* * *

For information: jessicasorensen.com

Cover Design by Najla Qamber Designs

  Created with Vellum

# Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

About the Author

Also by Jessica Sorensen

# Chapter One

My life is officially over. The end of existence is coming to take me out. I can already picture my lifeless body sprawled out on the gross, stained linoleum floor of my high school, my own tears and my fellow peers' continuous laughter surrounding me. What a way to go. Seriously. It's like the most disgusting place to die ever.

Okay, okay. I may be overdramatizing. Technically, my life isn't over, and I'm not going to die; just my social life. And that end of existence coming to take me has arrived via text message, which doesn't seem scary, but the sender is.

Tears sting my eyes as I stand in the middle of the busy hallway, re-reading the text message from my best friend—or ex-best friend, I guess I should say—Queeny Harlington sent me this morning.

**Queeny: Ash, after what happened on Friday, we all agreed that it'd be better if you spent a little time away from us. XoXo**

By "we" and "us" she means herself, Reina, and Janie, my other ex-friends as of five minutes ago. They might not have declared the end of our friendship yet, but I'm not even going to pretend anyone will side with me, although I'm innocent of Queeny's accusations.

If I were in their shoes and given a choice to side with Queeny or me, I'd for sure side with Queeny, too. How could I not after I've spent years watching her, and sometimes shamefully aiding, in singlehandedly destroying the lives of anyone who got on her bad side.

Like it or not, Queeny rules Fareland High. She has since freshman year when she stole Alise's, the former most popular girl in high school, boyfriend.

Colt was a senior at the time and the most popular guy in school, and Queeny stole him from Alise without so much as blinking an eye. When Alise came after her, Queeny dug up some very dirty secrets about her and told the whole school. Within minutes, Alise went from the homecoming queen to the girl no one would associate with. Queeny's relationship with Colt lasted a total of a week before she dumped him in front of the school.

Sometimes, I wonder if the main reason she went after Colt was to prove that, even as a freshman, she was still Queen Bitchton—a self-proclaimed nickname.

A guy slams into my shoulder, wrenching me from my thoughts.

"Loser," he coughs then erupts into a fit of laughter.

I don't even know his name, yet he decides to hate me because of a rumor?

"Nice one." I roll my eyes, playing cool despite the sting of his remark.

My eyes go back to the message Queeny sent me during the awful bus ride to school this morning. One single sentence that carries countless warnings. I have a feeling being shunned from the group is the start of days—even months—of Queen Bitchton hell. She's going to try to drive me mad until I break into tiny, crushable pieces that she can squash between her perfectly manicured fingernails.

On the smallest bright side ever, I won't have to endure the torment all by my little old lonesome since one person in this school will side with me. I just know it.

I stuff my phone into the back pocket of my pants and weave through the crowded hallway, making my way toward my boyfriend's locker. As I pass by the cliques filling up the hallway, heads turn in my direction. Some people snicker. Some stare. One girl offers me a sympathetic look, and I feel like the biggest bitch for not being able to remember her name.

While I like to believe I'm fairly tough, the more people gawk at me, the more squirrely I get. Has Queeny told the entire school about what she thinks I did? What else has she told them about me? By the number of snide looks blasted in my direction, I'm guessing she's done some quality Queeny damage already. All because some a-hole lied and told her that I made out with Zane, a guy she's had a crush on for the past week, at Friday's party.

After being friends with Queeny since middle school, she should know better than to think I'd betray her like that. Plus, I'd never cheat on Knox, my boyfriend of almost one year. Then again, after knowing Queeny for that long, perhaps I should've seen this coming.

_Le sigh_. I am stupid to think she'd never come after me when she's gone after practically everyone.

By the time I reach the end of the hallway, the staring and whispering have taken over the hallways. My shoulders slump, causing my long, brown hair to curtain my face, and my legs are a bit shaky, putting into question any alleged strength I've ever claimed to have. Some of my worry alleviates, though, when I spot Knox leaning against his locker, chatting with a few of his friends.

He's wearing his football jersey for tonight's game, his blond hair is styled perfectly, and his muscular arms are crossed over his broad chest. He's absolutely gorgeous, if you like that blond hair, blue-eyed, rock hard body kind of guy, which I do. Or, at least I don't not like it. Although, before Knox asked me out at the beginning of my junior year, I'd never given too much thought about him. Sure, I knew who he was—the star quarterback who almost every single girl in school had a crush on. But, even though our friends hung out together at parties and at lunch, I hadn't talked to him very much. So, when he asked me out on a date, I was completely blindsided and confused, not knowing if I should go.

I confessed my confusion to Queeny because, bitch or not, she was my best friend.

"You're seriously _thinking_ about going on a date?" She gaped at me like I just declared I secretly wore studded bracelets, listened to 80s punk rock, and spent Saturdays practicing my tarot card readings.

And yes, I did all those things sometimes—still do—but I've never told her that. Well, at least the first two. The last she found out on her own after my cards fell out of my bag. She pinkie swore she'd never tell anyone. Luckily, she never discovered I'm also into palm reading, séances, and that I spend weekends helping my mom go through her stash of crystal and herb supplies for what is supposed to be her natural healing store that seems to draw in a ton of weirdoes looking for Wiccan and magic potion supplies.

"So, you think I shouldn't go out on a date with him?" I asked Queeny, kind of hoping she'd say yes.

Sure, Knox was hot, but what would we talk about? Sports? Ha! Yeah, right! We had nothing in common.

She dramatically rolled her eyes. "Don't be an idiot, Ash. That's not what I'm saying."

"Then what are you saying?" Because I was lost, which may have been what she wanted—Queeny loved toying with people's minds.

She huffed a dramatic sigh. "I'm saying you shouldn't even be thinking about going out with him at all. You should've told him yes without _thinking_. Any normal person would've, which makes me wonder if you're normal." She smiled sweetly at me when I frowned. "Don't worry; you can fix this."

"How?" I tried not to let my disappointment show.

She crossed her legs and thrummed her finger against her glossy lips, deeply pondering the answer, though she probably had this entire conversation planned before it even started. "Well, for starters, you can tell Knox you'd love to go out on a date with him. Then you can break up Judd and Clarissa."

I went rigid. "Why would I do that?"

She raveled a strand of her silky blonde hair around her finger. "Because I want to go out with Judd."

"But I think he's in love with Clarissa." I treaded carefully, not wanting to piss her off, yet not wanting to agree to her request, either.

I mean, I barely knew Judd, and I had no clue how to ruin his year-long relationship with a girl he seemed to be all doe-eyed in love with. And Clarissa seemed like a genuinely nice person, constantly smiling and probably rolled out of bed singing while blue birds dressed her. I'd feel like I was breaking up Cinderella and Prince Charming.

Queeny snorted a condescending laugh. " _Love_? Are you joking with me with this shit, Ash?"

"Um... No... I really think they are." I grew more uneasy as she narrowed her eyes at me.

It's not like I was afraid of her. Well, I didn't want to be. However, arguing with her would buy myself a one-way ticket to Loserville, a place I lived in during elementary school until I became friends with Queeny.

"They're not in love," Queeny insisted. "And I'm going to prove it to you."

"How?"

"By showing you how easy it's going to be to break them up," she announced. When I hesitated, she sighed. "Fine, if you don't want to do this for me, I can always ask Reina or Janie." Her eyes sparkled with amusement, yet a warning was hidden behind the look. "In fact, maybe I'll ask Janie to go shopping with me on Saturday and let you off the hook from that. And while I'm at it, I'll take Reina with me to that party on Friday, because she seems more into it than you. And maybe you should start riding the bus to school, because I don't think I want to drive the extra ten minutes to pick your sorry butt up anymore. And since you're acting so anti-Knox and Judd, maybe you should sit somewhere else during lunch, so you don't have to be near them." Her lips curved into a pleased grin as I squirmed. "I heard Maxon Harter and his science freak friends have an opening at their table. You could always sit with them."

I fought back a gulp, thinking about Flynn, the last person Queeny threatened to make sit elsewhere after she asked him out and he declined. Queeny didn't just shun him from our table. Oh, no, no, no. That would have been way too nice for her. To add to Flynn's punishment, she also had one of her many guy admirers go out on a date with Flynn's younger sister, only so he could record them messing around. Then Queeny sent the video to the entire school. Things got so bad that Flynn and his sister ended up transferring schools.

"Does that sound good to you?" Queeny asked. "Or, we can keep things the same as they are? It's really up to you."

I almost laughed. The decision was so not mine. Most weren't. Well, except for my choice to remain friends with her. I could've walked away, and sometimes, I wanted to. I was a big chicken, though. I was weak, shallow, and I didn't want to sacrifice losing my popularity. So, I agreed to her plan and started dating Knox, which turned out not to be as bad as I thought.

After we'd been dating for a couple of weeks, I arranged times for me, Knox, Queeny, and Judd to hang out together. Queeny worked her flirty charm and, within a week, Judd dumped Clarissa and was dating Queeny. Their relationship lasted a record-breaking two weeks before Queeny publicly broke up with him and announced she'd slept with Judd before he had dumped Clarissa.

Clarissa was never the same after that. Those constant smiles she wore were far and few between, and she became a loner until she made friends with the science nerds.

"Ash... what're you doing?" Knox's voice tugs me out of Guilty La La Land.

Realizing I nearly ran into him, I slam on the brakes. "Sorry, I was spacing out..." I falter as he shifts his weight, glancing at his friends nervously. "What's wrong?"

Knox exchanges an unreadable look with Judd, who offers Knox a quick, "Good luck, man," before taking off down the hallway. The rest of Knox's friends follow without making eye contact with me.

Uneasiness stirs inside my stomach. Just how far is Queeny going to take this punishment? And who will side with her?

"Is everything okay?" I ask, too aware that he hasn't kissed me yet, which he's done every morning since our first kiss.

He sighs. "We need to talk."

My stomach twists into painful knots. "We need to talk, huh? Isn't that, like the kiss of death?"

He blinks at me. "What?"

"Nothing. Never mind." I discreetly suck in a breath, trying to calm my hammering heart. "Do you want to talk in your car or right here?"

His gaze skits up the hallway, and I twist around to see what he's looking at. Then I instantly wish I hadn't.

Queeny, Janie, and Reina are strutting up the hallway toward us. Queeny is in the center—always is—with Reina and Janie at her sides, talking about God knows what, probably shoes or lipstick. Queeny isn't listening to them, her attention fixed on Knox and I. No, scratch that. Her gaze is on Knox, and she has the same look in her eyes she had right before she stole Judd from Clarissa.

I turn back around, and my stomach coils at the sight of the lopsided smile on Knox's face. A smile that isn't directed at me.

"So, do you want to go talk in your car?" I aim for a bored tone, but come off like a squeaky mouse.

Knox yanks his gaze away from Queeny. "Um, actually, I think it might be better here," he mumbles, looking everywhere but at me.

I curl my fingers inward, stabbing my fingernails into my palms. So, she got to him. I can't believe it. I don't want to believe. Yet, when I really think about it... _I should've seen this coming._

The thought comes out of nowhere and makes me pause and _really_ analyze my year-long relationship with Knox.

"Is there something going on between you and Queeny?" Dammit all to Nerdsville. I wish my damn voice would stop sounding like I just sucked helium out of a balloon.

His expression softens. "Of course not." I start to relax when he adds, "But..."

I dig my fingernails deeper into my palms. Queeny did get Knox to side with her. Knox, _my_ boyfriend of a year, who told me he could potentially fall in love with me.

Screw that. Screw him. Screw his potential love, like it's some kind of precious gift to have.

"But, let me guess, you think we should see other people." I beat him to the punch.

He exhales in relief. "You agree with me?"

Part of me wants to cry _heck no!_ I want to tell him I can't do this without him. That I've given him a year of my life, and Queeny's barely given him the time of day up until this morning. But I can tell Knox has already made up his mind, and the fact that he has makes me hate him a little bit.

"Sure," I manage to bite out through the pain piercing my soul. I'm not sure if the pain is stemming from Queeny's betrayal, a broken heart, or my own stupidity for dating a guy who would do this to me.

"Thanks for making this easy," he says, relaxing. "I was worried you were going to make a scene."

"You should know that's not my MO," I reply coolly, though I'm torn to shreds on the inside.

"Well, I used to think cheating wasn't your MO." His expression hardens. "I was wrong about a lot of things when it comes to you."

Two thoughts run through my mind in that moment. 1). Queeny told Knox a crap ton of lies about me. And 2). Knox freakin' believed her without even talking to me first. After dating me for a year and witnessing Queeny make up lies about nearly everyone in the school, he believed her. No questions asked.

Then another thought occurs, one that makes me regret ever dating him. Perhaps he knows Queeny is lying, yet he doesn't care.

Lately, he's been pushing me to have sex with him and got irritated when I told him I wasn't ready. Does he just want out of our relationship so he can latch on to this opportunity like a golden ticket?

I think about the last time I turned him down; how upset he got.

"We've been going out for a year," he griped a couple of weekends ago after we'd been making out on his bed for over an hour and he wanted to take things further. "God, Ash, don't you trust me?"

"This isn't about trust." I gently pushed him off me and sat up, fixing my hair. "I'm just not ready."

That was the truth. I had no desire to go all the way with Knox, for many reasons, most of which I could barely comprehend. What I knew for sure was that, if I had sex with him, I'd regret it.

"Fine. Whatever." He yanked his shirt back on. "You're such a tease. Do you have any idea how hard it is for a guy to go a year without having sex?" Then he stormed out of his room, leaving me feeling a bit guilty but mostly angry.

I started to collect my things with confusion swirling inside me. Confusion that left me questioning if I was making the right decision. Maybe I was being "immature" as Queeny told me whenever I talked to her about not wanting to give up my virginity yet. But the idea of going all the way with Knox made me feel uneasy, which didn't seem like the right way for me to feel if I was ready.

"Ash, I'm sorry for yelling," Knox said when he returned to his room a couple of minutes later. "I don't know what got into me."

"It's fine," I told him, not sure if it really was, yet not knowing what else to say. Plus, I didn't want to fight anymore. "I'm sure it's frustrating."

"Still... I shouldn't have yelled at you like that." He cupped my cheek in his palm and held my gaze. "I won't do it again... I care about you." He paused. "I think I might even be close to being in love with you."

I smiled, my stomach somersaulting. _He's close to being in love with me?_

Underneath the excitement, worry pulsated through me. _Am I supposed to say it back? Could I?_

I wasn't sure. And thank my lucky stars Knox never gave me a chance to answer as he sealed his lips to mine, picking things up where we had left off before the fight.

I wish I could say that he stopped pressuring me into having sex after that. If anything, he became more persistent, up until last weekend. On the other hand, we didn't spend any time together then, either. He didn't even call me Friday night like he normally did, and I didn't see him at the party. And now, suddenly he's looking at Queeny like she's a piece of candy he wants to nibble on.

Another horrible thought punches me. What if he's siding with Queeny because he thinks she'll give him what he wants? Or what if she already has? That revelation makes anger burst through me.

I force myself to calm down and stop overreacting. For all I know, Knox is a coward and doesn't want to stand up against Queeny, like everyone else in this damn school, including me.

"You got nothing to say to that?" Knox questions, elevating his brows at me.

I open my mouth to say... well, something, but Queeny ambles up and the words die on my tongue.

She places her hand on her jutted hip. "Got something to say to me, _Asslynn_?"

I cringe.

Back in fifth grade, kids used to call me Asslynn after I got depantsed in the cafeteria. The name haunted me all the way until middle school when I first met Queeny. She was new to Fareland and always wore stylish clothes and carried herself with an air of confidence that I envied. When she started talking to me in class, I latched on to the conversation. Then the conversation when downhill fast. That's what I thought at first, anyway.

"So, why do people call you Asslynn?" she asked, chewing on the end of her pen.

I shrugged, shame burning my cheeks. "It's a long story." Really, it wasn't, since it took a whole one second of humiliation for that nickname to get created. I didn't want to tell her that, though, and look weak.

"Do you like it?" she asked, and I shook my head. "Then you should get them to stop."

"How? Almost the entire school calls me it."

"Well, for starters, you could call yourself Ash."

"Then they will probably just call me ass."

That wicked glint I'd grown to fear gleamed in her eyes. "And whoever does will end up with their own horrible nickname."

I smiled, but I didn't believe she could follow through with her threat. How could she when she was new and didn't have any friends? It turned out I was wrong.

By the end of the school year, everyone was calling me Ash, and Queeny had declared me her best friend. I felt so special she picked me. That was where I made my first mistake, that I viewed her friendship as some sort of gift, and she did more than make it feel that way. It left an imbalance between us and gave Queeny leverage over me.

"Remember how you used to be a loser before you met me?" she constantly reminded me. "God, you're so lucky I'm your friend."

Up until about a year ago, I agreed with her. After the Clarissa incident, though, our friendship became based more on fear than gratitude.

"Earth to Asslynn." Queeny waves her hand in front of my face. "Did you hear what I just said?"

"Yeah." I shrug, not about to apologize for something I didn't do. "But I don't really have anything to say to you, so..."

Surprise flickers in her eyes, but then a malicious grin twists at her lips. "Fine. If you don't want to apologize for what you did, then I guess I'll have to make you regret being a backstabbing whore." Her smile broadens as she glances around the hallway.

I track her gaze and cringe. _Everyone_ is watching us.

She smirks at me, then loops her arm through Knox's. "Walk me to class, Knox?"

Nodding, he slips his arm around her back so naturally that it's like he has done it before.

As they start down the hallway, he casts a glance over his shoulder at me. I keep my expression disinterested, like I don't give a flying monkey's butt about what he's doing, when really, I want to run up and bitch slap him. And Queeny.

"Sorry, Ash, but you shouldn't have done it," he has the nerve to say as he walks away with Queeny.

I don't know what he's sorry for. For not talking to me first about this? For automatically believing Queeny? For being a coward? Or because he hooked up with Queeny? A theory that looks truer by the second.

Tears threaten to pour out, but I suck them back. I will not cry. I will not give everyone the satisfaction of seeing me cry. The longer I watch the two of them get all cuddly with each other, though, the more my willpower weakens. And everyone is here to witness my demise. All my so-called friends, Knox's friends, the cheerleaders, the troublemakers, the drama club, Clarissa and all her science nerd friends, with the exception of their ring leader, Maxon Harter.

_Well, on a positive note, Ash, at least one person isn't here to witness your deserving downfall._

Not wanting to break down in front of the whole school, I lift my chin, turn around, and force myself to _walk_ into the bathroom. Then I duck into a stall, sink to the floor, and allow the tears spill out.

Dammit, I don't know how everything went to shit so fast. How did I go from hanging out at a college party to her accusing me of getting all hot and heavy with Zane, a guy I've barely spoken two words to and neither of those two words were at that party? What happened? What made her think I did it? Better yet, who made up the story?

"Maybe, if I figure it out and prove to Queeny that I didn't do it, then I can get out of this mess."

_Ha! You silly girl._ _Like it's going to be that easy_ , my thoughts laugh at me.

I of all people should know Queeny doesn't do easy. She's going to make my life utterly miserable until she gets bored and moves on to her next victim. After being her sidekick for over six years, I may actually deserve what's coming to me. Maybe I should suffer through the torment and move on from Queeny. Can I do that? Walk away and go back to being Asslynn?

Part of me wants to believe I'm that badass, but when I leave the bathroom, I realize I might not be as strong as I pretend to be.

"Asslynn."

My old nickname haunts the hallways, and I'm slammed back into painful memories of grade school. Tears flood my vision again. I want to run and hide, but the first bell rings, giving me no choice but to get my butt to class with watery eyes and laughter hitting my back.

# Chapter Two

The rest of my morning is fan-freakin'-tabulous—insert sarcasm on my part. Not only do I spend the first three classes pretending not to notice my nickname being whispered everywhere, but I'm forced to endure Knox and Queeny walking around with their fingers interlocked like an adorable couple.

The sight makes me want to yack up my breakfast, right in front of them, so they'll slip in the puddle and fall flat on their backs and into my pukey mess. Sadly, that never happens. Instead, I spend a lot of class time overanalyzing my year-long relationship with Knox and wondering how long Queeny and him have been hooking up.

Was our relationship ever real? Was my friendship with Queeny ever real? Or was I a puppet for whatever game she was, and probably still is, playing? Or is she just dating Knox to get back at me because she thinks I hooked up with her crush?

Unanswered questions ping-pong around in my brain, driving me mad. I can't concentrate on anything, even the English paper I'm supposed to be working on right now.

"Ashlynn, is everything okay?" Mr. Chester asks, appearing in front of my desk.

I jerk my head up from the blank paper I've been staring at for who knows how long. "Yeah, I'm fine." My gaze sweeps the empty classroom. "Where did everyone go?"

He crosses his arms. "To lunch. The bell rang about five minutes ago."

I glance at the clock and frown. "I guess I got into the writing zone and spaced out." I collect the blank sheet of paper before he realizes I'm full of crap. "Sorry."

"You don't need to apologize for getting into an assignment. It's something teachers love to hear." He smiles at me as I get to my feet.

I return his smile, but the movement is strained. Not because I have anything against Mr. Chester—he's pretty cool as far as teachers go—but in about ten seconds, I'm going to have to go to the cafeteria where Queeny and the rest of my ex-friends, and my ex-boyfriend, will be eating lunch together.

God, what I would give to go to a school that didn't have a closed campus lunch policy. Then again, I don't have a car, so yeah, I'd pretty much still be stuck here no matter what alternative universe I lived in.

Procrastinating my inevitable social demise, I take my sweet time gathering my books, notebook, and pen.

"Are you sure everything's okay?" Mr. Chester asks as he watches me lift my books in slow motion.

"Yeah, I'm just thinking about the assignment." A partial lie. I am in no way, shape, or form thinking about the assignment. In my defense, I usually am, so technically, I'm only lying today. "I really wish I could just finish it now while I have all these ideas sloshing around in my head."

"If you want, you can eat lunch in here and work on it," he offers. "Being a writer myself, I know how hard it is to walk away when you get in the zone."

"You're a writer?" I pretend to be surprised. He's been my English and Science teacher since freshman year—I go to a very small school—and he always introduces himself as Mr. Chester, a clever teacher with awesome writing skills up his sleeve, and if we're lucky, he'll teach us how to be cool like him. Then he adds a laugh to let us all know he's being silly. I don't really think he is.

"I've dabbled in some poetry and short stories," he admits proudly. "I've always wanted to write a novel, but I've never had the time." A wistful smile rises on his face. "Maybe one day, though."

I smile for real and open my mouth to tell him that'd be cool, when the intercom clicks on, startling both of us and yanking him out of whatever daydream he had entered.

The secretary's voice crackles through the speaker, announcing that homecoming tickets go on sale today. And just like that, I suddenly understand why half the people in the school hate school dances as I'm reminded I no longer have a boyfriend to take me.

I frown, sinking into a pity party as I lollygag for the door.

"Ashlynn?" Mr. Chester calls out after me.

I turn around. "Yeah?"

"I have to run to the office really quick to turn in some tests." He goes to his desk, opens the top drawer, and pulls out a file. "But like I said, you're welcome to stay in here and work on your paper while you eat lunch. I know there's a no food outside of the cafeteria policy, but as long as you don't get caught, I won't say anything." He offers me another smile as he passes me, stepping into the hallway.

I dither in the doorway, unsure of what to do. On the one hand, I don't want to be a coward and let Queeny believe I am one. But I might lose my shit if she comes after me. And I can't do that unless I want to encourage her to come at me more.

I bounce back and forth for about twenty seconds before plopping my ass back in my seat, telling myself that I'll be braver tomorrow.

I consider hitting up the vending machines for some snacks, but when I raid my bag for some cash, I only scrounge up seventy-five cents. So, I dig out a stick of gum, grab my blank piece of paper and a pen, and attempt to hit this alleged writing zone.

Ten minutes later, I've finished an elaborate doodle—an unflattering drawing of Queeny—and have taken out my tarot cards. The first card I flip over is the fool, which is supposed to mean a new beginning. It also represents innocence and naivety.

I glare at the card. "Thanks for telling me what I already know..." I trail off as I feel the presence of someone moving up behind me.

I start to turn when hot breath tickles my skin.

"Either you really hate someone or you totally suck at art," a guy whispers right in my ear, and I mean, lips grazing.

Thinking Queeny sent a guy in to mess with my mind, I whirl around, ready to jab his eye out with my pen. But I cease the attack as I come face-to-face with bloodshot eyes and a dopey smile that belongs to Clove Capperson, the known stoner of our school who hangs with Maxon Harter and his science nerd friends. And I guess Clarissa, too.

Clove slants back with his hands raised in front of him. "Sorry. I didn't mean to scare you." He sweeps his mopey brown hair away from his forehead and smiles at me. "Maxon keeps telling me I have issues with personal space. I wish I could stop, but"—he shrugs—"what're you gonna do?"

"You could always stop kissing people's ears when you whisper in them," I suggest.

He rubs his jaw thoughtfully. "Nice suggestion. I might consider doing that if you do one thing for me."

I don't know Clove very well, haven't since grade school, so I'm reluctant to answer. As he continues to stare at me expectantly, though, I cave.

"Okay, what's the one thing?"

His grin lights up his whole face. "Lower the vampire stake."

"Huh?"

He wraps his hand around my wrist, his fingertips tickling my skin. I practically jolt, surprised by his forward, flirty move.

"Look, I'm flattered, but I don't really think of you that way..." I bite my damn tongue as he lowers my hand down and tugs the pen from my fingers.

"I was just trying to stop you from aiming this at me like you were about to stake a vamp." He bites down on his lip, fighting back a laugh. "I know the pasty skin, dark clothes, and charmingly good looks make me look like a vampire, but I promise I'm just a normal dude with slightly above average good looks."

Embarrassment pours over me like a bucket of pig's blood.

_Please, can this day just end now?_

"Sorry," I mutter, turning around in my seat where I will remain quiet until lunch time ends, because clearly, I can't be trusted with socializing today.

"Hey, it's okay." Clove dashes around to the front of my desk. "It happens to the best of us."

His dopey smile is magnified, and the florescent lighting highlights the redness in his eyes. Either he's been crying or he's stoned. I'm going to hope for the latter. Then maybe he won't remember this conversation.

"Does it?" I question quietly, staring down at my tarot cards. _Yes, Ash, a fool indeed._

He nods, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his black jeans. "The other day, I was at this party, and this smokin' hot girl came up and grabbed my ass. And I was like, 'whoa, whoa, whoa, look, you're super-hot, but I usually need at least a one-minute conversation, maybe thirty seconds depending on what mood I'm in, with someone before I let them fondle my ass.' And then she told me she was just trying to pickpocket me." His lips pull up into a goofy smile. "Man, did I feel stupid."

I study him, unsure if he's being serious or not. "Are you for real?"

He gives me an intense look. "Is anyone for real?"

Since I still can't tell for sure if he's kidding, I wrestle back my laughter, but I end up letting out a very loud and unattractive pig snort.

I slap my hand across my mouth. Good God, let's just add more embarrassment to my day.

Clove chuckles. "Now _that_ was attractive."

I lower my hand from my mouth and breeze over the moment. "Did a girl really try to pickpocket you?"

His lips part, but the words never leave his lips as Clarissa, Kinslee, and Huntley Porrterson—a tall, lean guy with short brown hair, who rocks the square framed glasses look—walk into the room, carrying a few beakers and a torch. Clove and the three of them make up eighty percent of the mad scientist freak squad, a name Queeny gave them after they caught her bangs on fire during a presentation for science. The nickname wasn't meant to be nice, but I think they like it. Maybe because they worship science.

I never told Queeny they were a fan of her nickname; otherwise, she'd come up with a worse one. And Maxon and his friends aren't that bad. For science geeks, anyway.

"Hey, Clove, did you bring my...?" Huntley turns into a human statue as he spots Clove standing in front of my desk.

I totally get his confusion. Up until five minutes ago, Clove and I haven't spoken since grade school before I became BFFs with his nemesis.

Clarissa and Kinslee stop to gawk at us, too. Well, Clarissa stares curiously, while Kinslee glares daggers at me, like I'm the BFF of Satan.

"Did I bring what?" Clove asks, sounding as casual as can be, as if everything about this scene is perfectly normal.

Huntley glances at Clarissa, who shrugs before hurrying toward the table in the far back corner of the room. Kinslee flips her braid off her shoulder, fires a dirty look at me, and then follows after Clarissa.

The room grows quiet and makes me super aware of Huntley's gawking and Kinslee's death glare burning a hole through the back of my head. I consider leaving, but decide I'd rather be living in Awkward Land than face Queen Bitchton right now.

"It's so weird you're talking to her," Huntley says, rolling up the sleeves of his button-down shirt. "And that she's even in here."

Clove nods then starts humming the theme song to _The Twilight Zone_.

"It's not that weird," I say to Huntley. "I'm just hanging out in English class. Well, English/Science class." Since Mr. Chester teaches English half the day and Biology, Chemistry, and Earth Science the other half.

Huntley rolls his eyes, surprising the crap out of me. "Don't try to bullshit your way out of this one. It's weird you're here and everyone—including you—knows it." He takes off toward the back of the room, leaving me with my jaw hanging open.

But seriously, I always thought Huntley was this nice, quiet, cute, nerdy guy. Clearly, I was wrong.

Then again, can I really blame him for reacting that way toward me, after being such a mega bitch?

I crinkle my nose. _What if I'm as scary as Queeny?_

"Deep thoughts make my nose crinkle, too," Clove states, observing my expression. "And the smell of pineapples."

I cover my mouth again as that unattractive pig snort threatens to burst from my lips a second time.

He chuckles with a proud smile on his face. "Just ignore Huntley. He's just... in a bad mood today."

I force a smile, knowing he's pitying me more than telling the truth. "It's fine."

Clove sighs, his lips parting. "Hey—"

"Clove, can you come here for a minute?" Kinslee cuts him off.

Clove shakes his head. "Nah, I'd rather stay right here and carry on with this very stimulating, and veering toward flirty, conversation with the lovely Ashlynn."

Despite the fact that he just accused me of flirting with him—which I so wasn't—I still smile at his use of my full name.

"Clove..." Kinslee warns. "I'm not joking. You need to come here right now."

Clove targets her with what I think is supposed to be an annoyed look, but it comes off goofy more than anything. "Can't you see I'm having a conversation with a very pretty girl?" He tries to dazzle me with a grin. "In fact, I think she was just about to try to pickpocket me."

"I was not," I protest, struggling to keep a straight face.

"Who was about to do what?" Maxon strolls in with a large box in his hands.

He's not wearing his typical outfit, only because he doesn't have a typical outfit. Maxon has always been a go-with-the-flow kind of guy and wears all sorts of clothes, sometimes even rocking character themed attire. Today he seems to be leaning in the Goth direction, dressed in black, holey jeans; a dark T-shirt; studded bracelets; and clunky boots. His black hair hangs in his crazy, cloudy grey eyes. Well, Queeny always called his eyes crazy, anyway. I've thought—think—his eyes are wicked cool. Different, like the eye color of a character from a fantasy novel. Plus, his thick, dark eyelashes give the illusion of wearing eyeliner.

Queeny once told everyone she caught him applying eyeliner in his car. I'm pretty sure that was just a gossipy story, like most of hers are.

Like the rest of his friends, Maxon notes the limited space between Clove and me. Instead of spazzing out, he arches a brow at Clove, continuing toward the back of the classroom.

That's the thing about Maxon. He puts up with ridicule every single day, yet he never seems to give a flying rat's ass about much, other than science experiments and his friends.

"What?" Clove asks Maxon innocently. "I was just talking to her."

Maxon carries Clove's gaze as he sets the box down on the table. He doesn't utter a word, and the silence makes Clove squirm.

"Sorry, man, but"—he shrugs then sneaks me a grin—"I couldn't help it. She was just about to grab my ass."

Laughter flows from the back of the room. I think it's coming from Clarissa.

I poke Clove in the side with the end of my pen. "Quit dreaming, dude."

"You don't have to be embarrassed about it," Clove tells me. "I'm seriously flattered."

Rolling my eyes, I redirect my attention to my doodle covered paper. "That'd only happen in your dreams, vampire boy."

Clove giggles like a girl. "Don't think this is over yet, vampire slayer slash tarot card reader." He pats my desk before strolling off to join his friends.

Well, crapola. I hadn't thought to put away my tarot cards. I usually like to keep my obsession with card reading a secret to avoid looking like a complete weirdo. Then again, Queeny knows this about me, and I doubt her pinkie swear is going to hold up over her "Off With Ashlynn's Head" mission. Besides, Clove doesn't seem like the kind of person who would use my secret to spread gossip around the school. None of Maxon's science obsessed friends seem like the type.

I cast a subtle glance over my shoulder, curious what they're doing with all the boxes and equipment. Huntley is igniting the torch, Clarissa and Kinslee are lining the beakers up on the table, and Clove is messing around with a pair of protective goggles. Maxon is leaning against the counter with his eyes on me and his brows knit, as if I'm some foreign creature he's trying to figure out how to get rid of. For a heart-stopping, holy crap, I'll die if this is really happening, moment, I worry he found out a dirty little secret of mine, one that involves him.

_Good God, if that happened, I'd die of embarrassment._

When our gazes connect, his cheeks flush, and he fixes his attention on taking an assortment of tools out of a box.

_Hmmm... Maybe my secret is still safe._

A few minutes later, the five of them are working on some sort of experiment that reeks of burnt rubber and requires a lot of bronzed gadgets. They chat and laugh while they work, none of them glancing in my direction again. And when the bell rings, they gather up their stuff and leave without acknowledging my existence. Even Clove has forgotten all about the pathetic vampire slayer slash tarot card reader.

By the time I vacate the classroom, I feel sullenly invisible. Then I wish I was Invisible Girl when I step foot into the hallway.

"Think hiding out in a classroom is going to help you escape me?" Queeny steps into my path, with Janie and Reina chorusing a, "Yeah, Ass, you can't run from us."

The three of them put their hands on their hips simultaneously, like robots, and I struggle not to bust up laughing.

Did I look that stupid when I was with them?

Yep. Probably. I just never stepped back and took a good look at myself.

"I wasn't hiding in the classroom," I lie, holding my chin high.

"Yeah, right. You're such a coward. Always have been." Queeny's lips curve into a smirk. "And FYI, I want my shirt back." She yanks on the hem of the pale purple top I'm wearing, and the fabric is thin enough that her manicured fingernails tear right through it.

I jerk back as she pulls harder until the fabric is split all the way to the collar and my bra is exposed. My skin burns with embarrassment as I practically flash the entire school.

I search the crowd for a teacher, hoping they'll break up the fight, but nope, not an adult in sight.

"I don't know why you look so embarrassed," Queeny spews, continuing to grip my shirt. "From what I hear, you pretty much show anyone who asks."

Any calmness I had left goes _see ya later_.

"You know that's not true," I snap, reaching out to shove her.

"Lay a hand on me, and I'll tell everyone every secret I know about you," she warns. "Even what you did last fall."

My blood runs deathly cold as I inch back, lowering my hand. Mother of all beotches! How did I not see this coming?

"That's what I thought." She steps back, releasing my shirt. "You're such a coward. You've never been able to stick up for yourself."

Wrapping my arms around myself, I tuck my head down and walk toward the bathroom, keeping a steady pace, even when I hear Queeny snicker that I'm a whore.

_I will not run. I will not run. I will not let her know she's getting to me._

A dozen rubbernecks later, I make it safely into a bathroom stall. Then I let the tears spring free for the second time today. Damn Queeny. Damn this stupid torn shirt. I never should've worn it. I don't know what I was thinking when I put it on this morning, knowing she was pissed off at me.

Okay, maybe I did know what I was thinking. That Queeny would realize her accusations were untrue. That she'd believe me over whoever told her the lie.

_Stupid, stupid, stupid._

I don't know how long I sit on the filthy tile floor beside a toilet that smells like vomit, but it's well past fifth period when I finally drag my butt off the floor.

I decide to ditch class and walk the five miles to my house. I just need to figure out what to do about my shirt. The scrap of fabric is a lost cause. Only the collar is holding the front section together.

Heaving a sigh, I tug the two pieces together then wrap my arms around my midsection. "I guess that'll have to do."

Opening the stall door, I step out then immediately grind to a halt.

A black, fitted T-shirt with a giant teacup on the front is lying on the floor. It looks about my size, but the question is: how did it get in here? I didn't hear anyone come in, but my wrenching sobs might have drowned out the sound of footsteps.

I thrum my fingers against the sides of my legs. So someone left me a shirt. Someone in this school doesn't loathe me. Well, not enough to help me avoid walking around, flashing everyone, anyway. Maybe Janie or Reina?

Ha! Yeah, right. Those two Queeny clones looked positively thrilled to be standing by her side while she tore me to shreds. The saddest part is that I was just like them up until a day ago.

One day. That's all it took for my life to get flipped upside down, twisted around, and shaken up.

"At least you have a shirt to wear," I tell myself, trying to remain positive.

I wiggle out of Queeny's torn shirt and throw it in the trash. Then, bending over, I pick up the black shirt and slip it over my head.

Flipping my hair out of the collar, I glance at my reflection in the mirror. I look like a hot mess from Gothville, with eyeliner smeared around my big green eyes and down my cheeks. My nose is red from all the sniffling, and I look super pale. Well, paler than I normally do. I'm not sure if it's from all the crying or the black shirt. I rarely wear dark clothes because Queeny told me dark colors make me look too Goth, and I stupidly listened to her.

On a positive note, my bra isn't exposed anymore. So, yeah, there's that...

Sighing, I leave the bathroom, sneak down the hallway, and hightail it out of the school, wishing I never had to return.

# Chapter Three

Two hours later, I arrive at the trailer park my family has lived at for the last six months. My legs ache, my cheeks and ears are frozen popsicles, and I'm definitely regretting the platform shoes I put on this morning.

"Whoa, you look like an ice statue," Lucky, my older brother, remarks as I walk into my family's doublewide.

He's in the living room, lounging on the shaggy orange carpet, eating cereal without any milk, and watching _The_ _Big Lebowski_ on the tiny flat screen we bought my dad for his birthday.

"That's because I walked home and it's, like, fifty degrees outside," I say, dropping my bag on the floor.

"You _walked_ home?"

"Yup." I step into the living room and crinkle my nose as the stench in the air hits my nostrils. "Why does it smell like dead rabbit's feet?"

He cocks a brow. " _Dead rabbit's feet_?"

"It was the first thing that popped into my mind."

"You're such a weirdo, but so am I, so I guess it must be a family trait."

"True dat." I take in a deep breath, and the smell nearly makes me keel over. My gaze travels to the boxes lining the brownish kitchen countertops and the stained linoleum floor. "Oh. That's why it stinks. Mom got a new shipment of herbs. Why are they at the house and not the store?"

He stuffs a spoonful of cereal into his mouth. "She was supposed to take them to the store today, but I guess her new cashier didn't show up and she had to go in and work the register instead of doing inventory."

"I hate that she has to work so much."

"Me, too."

"Maybe I should do inventory for her."

"You know how to do that?"

"No, but I might be able to figure it out."

He points a finger at me. "Don't touch anything without Mom's permission."

"I won't. But I am going to offer." I yawn, slumping into the torn brown recliner. "Man, today has been the shittiest day ever. All I want to do is lie down and take a nap."

He wolfs down another bite of cereal. "Is that why you've been crying, and why you're wearing that shirt?"

I look down at the teacup shirt. "What's wrong with my shirt?"

"Um, other than the fact that you haven't worn dark colors since you were, like, twelve, which I always thought was weird." He rolls his eyes. "But, whatever."

"That's because I look pale in dark colors," I reply automatically, then frown, realizing those words aren't my own.

"Let me guess, the Wicked Wench of Bitchville told you that."

"Maybe."

Sighing, he sets the bowl down on the floor. "Okay, fess up, Ash. What happened to you today?"

"Nothing happened." I examine my fingernails. "So I wore a black shirt today and walked home. It's not that weird."

"I'm not just talking about the shirt or walking home." He leans forward, scrutinizing me. "You didn't defend Queeny when I just called her a bitch, you come home looking like you got your ass kicked in a snowball fight, and you're wearing a shirt that isn't yours." I open my mouth to feed him a lie, but he talks over me. "And don't feed me a bullshit story about that shirt being any of your friends' because space cadet one, two, or three wouldn't wear a shirt like that."

"Wow, great job on keeping up with me and my friends' fashion styles," I quip to evade answering his questions. "And coming from a guy still wearing pajamas at four o'clock in the afternoon."

"Something definitely happened today," he states, ignoring my jab. "At first, I thought maybe it was like an invasion of the body snatchers thing or something. Now I'm thinking it has something to do with the evil witch of Fareland. So fess up, little sis. What's got you all down?"

I wish I could tell him, but my family already has too many problems and the last thing I need to do is pile on the stress. "I don't want to talk about it. What I'd love to know is why you're sporting flannel bottoms and eating kids' cereal in the middle of the day."

"I had Dad duty today, so I've been home all day and didn't see the point of getting all dressed up for a date with the television. And I'm eating this very adult cereal because the marshmallows give me a sugar high." He grins and takes another bite. "Which I really need today."

I can't help smiling. "So you're dating the television now? What happened to Gabby?"

"Well, technically, I'm still dating her, too." He puts a finger to his lips. "So let's not mention the television thing to her. You know how jealous she gets over old-fashioned equipment."

I roll my eyes, smiling. "You're such a freak."

That's the thing about my brother. While we fight like Batman and the Joker, we do have good moments, and he does try to cheer me up when I'm veering toward becoming Ashlynn the Downer.

"Feeling better?" he asks, flicking a piece of cereal off his lap.

"Kind of."

"Enough that you want to talk about what happened?"

I shake my head. "Maybe later, after I've showered, and changed, and ate something." Because after skipping lunch, my tummy is sounding like an angry Gremlin. "Do you know what's for dinner?"

"It's the Lucky special, actually, which is super delicious if you can get past the cardboard aftertaste." He tosses the cereal box at me, then rises to his feet and pads across the living room to the attached kitchen. "If you want something else, you'll have to cook it yourself, because I'm officially off the clock." He sets his bowl down in the sink. "And I've got to be at work in an hour, so you're on Dad duty."

I flip the top of the cereal box open and scoop out a handful. "How's he doing today?"

He shrugs, opening the fridge. "Pain-wise, he's been up and down."

I chew the handful of cereal, pulling a face at the box-like, bland taste. "Did you give him any painkillers?"

"Yeah." He slants back to check the time on the microwave. "About an hour ago, so he should probably be asleep now." He grabs a can of soda from the fridge then bumps the door shut. "If I were you, I'd check in on him every hour or so to make sure he's okay, but let him sleep for as long as possible." He pops the tab of the soda can. "He had a rough night last night."

"Yeah, I heard." My heart constricts at last night's memory of being woken up by my dad's crying. He was in pain. He's been in pain ever since he fell off the roof of our house while trying to replace some shingles.

Back then, we lived in a decent-sized, two-story home. But after my dad shattered his knee, he could no longer work, so we had to downsize. A few weeks ago, he had his third knee surgery and can barely get around the house now, let alone go to work. So, right now we're living on what my mom's store makes, her random weekend jobs, and whatever my brother and I can chip in. However, Lucky's part-time job at the auto shop doesn't pay much, and I usually work for free at my mom's store. I wish we could help out more, but with my brother being in community college, and me still in school, we can't get full-time jobs yet.

When the medical bills started piling up, Lucky offered to take off a semester to help out, but our mom wouldn't have any part of that plan. She's a good, strong woman like that, and I've often wondered if perhaps I was adopted or something. Either that or the kind-heartedness skipped over me.

"If you need anything, I'll keep my cell turned on," Lucky tells me, heading down the hallway. "But only call if it's an emergency. My boss gets super pissed when I answer on the clock."

"Yes, boss." I salute him. "Any other orders?"

He shakes his head. "Just try to stay out of trouble."

"Hey, I don't get into trouble that much," I protest, setting down the cereal box.

"You sure about that?" He turns around with his brow cocked. "Because the school called the house today and said you missed your last three classes."

"I had a wardrobe malfunction," I offer the partial truth, feeling horribly guilty. "Does Mom know they called?"

"No. And I'm not going to tell her. She's already too stressed as it is." He turns back around, calling over his shoulder, "Just try to stay out of trouble. This family doesn't need any more shit added to our shit platter. I swear, it's like a pile of diarrhea."

My face contorts in disgust. "Ew, you're so gross. But I'll try my best to keep things shit and diarrhea free."

He gives me a thumbs up then disappears into his room.

I free a deafening breath. Great. Day one of Queeny's revenge wrath and I've already ditched school, lost a shirt—granted, it was hers—and got a call from the school. The first two I can handle, but the last thing I need is to drag my family into the drama when everyone is riding a stress wave twenty-four freakin' seven. What I need is a plan to keep the drama at school. Better yet, what I need is to find out who started the rumor about me kissing Zane and put a stop to Queeny's revenge plan.

"Yeah, easier said than done," I mutter, dragging my behind off the recliner and into the kitchen.

I grab some cheese sticks and a couple of granola bars before heading back to check on my dad. I crack the door open, peer inside, and breathe in relief. He's fast asleep with his leg propped up on a pillow, his breathing soft and not laced with pain.

I carefully shut the door then go into my bedroom and turn on some music, keeping the volume down so I won't wake up my dad. Then I dig around in my dresser for some clean clothes to put on, painfully realizing that a majority of my wardrobe is borrowed, thanks to Queeny declaring that every Saturday her, Janie, Reina, and I were allowed to go through each other's clothes and borrow whatever we wanted. I can only guess what they did with all of my shirts, pants, and skirts. They probably used them to start a big ol' bonfire in the backyard.

The idea of wearing any of their clothes doesn't sit well with me. Fortunately, all of my pajamas, underwear, and bras belong to me. That leaves me with a huge problem tomorrow, unless I want to wear boxer shorts and a holey tank top to school. Spending money on clothes isn't an option. There might be another way, though. One that sort of sucks, but is better than wearing my ex-friends' clothes or my pajamas.

I tiptoe out of my bedroom and knock on my brother's door. Moments later, the door swings open.

"I'm not going to cook dinner for you, so don't even try to beg," he says. "Or trick me."

"I wasn't going to ask you to cook dinner. And will you get over the whole tricking thing. I tried to trick you one time."

He slants himself against the doorframe with his arms crossed. "You didn't _try_ to trick me. You made believe that Mom needed me to cook a roast for her because she was having a party. I spent hours making mashed potatoes and homemade rolls and the best damn roast ever that was completely wasted because no one showed up for dinner."

"Hey, I ate it," I remind him. "And I never tricked you into cooking the potatoes and rolls. That was all you, dude."

"Well, it was mean and a waste of my time. And food."

"Yeah, I know. And I felt bad. But I was trying to get back at you for telling Mom that you caught me making out with Knox in my bedroom."

I don't know what kind of face I pull or what tone I use, but Lucky's eyes widen.

"Did you and Knox break up?" he asks. "Is that why you came home looking like you just watched _Inside Out_?"

"Hey, I only cried the first time I watched it." A total lie. Yet I don't need him or anyone else finding out I sobbed like a baby during the cartoon.

"If you say so. Now quit changing the subject and answer my question."

I resist the urge to wrap my arms around myself—I've looked pathetically weak too many times today already. "He broke up with me today."

"Was it the kind of break up that needs to be retaliated with an ass kicking?" He cracks his knuckles, pretending to act all tough, when really, he couldn't hurt a fly. Literally.

He uses a jar to catch flies that come into our house, and then releases them outside. He does it with spiders, too. Not moths, though. Moths, as Lucky puts it, are "fluttering lunatics that can change direction at any given time," and the uncertainty in direction scares him. Honestly, it didn't make any sense when he tried to explain his irrational fear to me after I found him hiding behind a sofa from a moth that was flying around the living room. He admitted he'd been hiding for over an hour, worried the moth was going to fly around forever. I should probably mention that he was stoned out of his mind when this all went down.

"No. No ass kicking needed," I say, not to protect Knox or anything. I'd love to see his ass get kicked a time or two. But Knox spends hours lifting weights and working out while my brother thinks doing a lap around the house to check on the sprinklers constitutes a daily workout. I don't want Lucky getting hurt.

"I do need a favor, though," I tell him. "A pretty big favor."

He tucks his shirt into his jeans. "Name it, and it's yours."

"Wow, you didn't even hesitate. You must really feel sorry for me."

"A little bit."

"Well, I'll take it, because I need your help with getting some new clothes."

"What's wrong with the clothes you have?"

"The clothes in my dresser aren't my clothes." Bitterness creeps into my tone. "And the ones in there are tainted."

"Tainted how?" He heaves a sigh when I nonchalantly shrug. "Look, I'd love to give you some extra money to buy clothes, but we barely have enough to pay the bills this month."

"I know. And that's why I'm not asking for money, but if you would ask Gabby..." When reluctance crosses his face, I add, "She's been trying to give me some of her old clothes forever, but I've always told her I don't need them."

"Yeah, because her style is... How did you put it?" He glowers at me. "Disgusting. She took it personally, too. You know how obsessed she is with clothes. She wants to be a designer. You really hurt her feelings."

"Hey, I didn't say that. Queeny did."

"Well, you didn't say anything to stop her, which makes you as bad as her."

"Yeah, I know." My voice cracks, and I hastily avert my attention to my fingernails, picking at the chipped violet polish. "Look, I know I suck. And I probably deserve everything coming my way, but I'm desperate, okay? All of the clothes in my dresser belong to either Queeny, Janie, or Reina, and I don't want to wear anything that belongs to them anymore."

After I am done rambling, he lets the silence drag by before stepping back into his room. "I'll call her and ask." He retrieves his phone from his pocket. "But if she says yes, you better start treating her better. If your friends say anything mean about her, you stick up for her."

I nod, not bothering to point out my current friendless status. Even if I did have friends, after what happened today, I'd think twice about keeping my lips sealed when Queeny spews her verbal abuse.

While Lucky's chatting with Gabby, I go into the kitchen and get out a box of macaroni and cheese, bread, and butter, and start cooking dinner. While I'm filling up a large pan with water, I hop online to check up on Queeny, Janie, Reina, and Knox. I don't know why I do it. Perhaps I'm one of those people who like self-torture and wallowing in their own misery. Or maybe I've lost my damn mind. Whatever the reason, as soon as I read Queeny's recent status, I immediately want to dropkick my behind to some remote island where I have no access to the internet, and where I'm far, far away from Fareland High drama.

_We're officially a couple! Don't we look soooo amazing together?_

Below the caption is a photo of Queeny, dressed up in one of her infamous tight sequins dresses, and she has her lips pressed to Knox's cheek. He has on his football uniform and is sporting a sexy, lopsided grin. The sight of that smile used to make my stomach flutter. All it does for me now is make me want to punch something really, really hard.

" _Officially_ a couple," I read aloud.

Less than a day after Knox and I break up, and he's already dating my ex-best friend "officially."

I grit my teeth until pain radiates through my jaw. They had to have been fooling around behind my back. For how long? Does it even matter? A day, a week, a month—cheating is cheating. To top it off, Queeny told the entire school _I'm_ the cheater.

My heart throbs, not with soul splitting pain, but with scalding anger. How can she mess around with my boyfriend, yet I'm the one who gets deemed the school harlot? That's the million-dollar question, and I'm desperate to find the answer. I might know a way to at least get some insight into what's been going on behind my back.

I turn off the water, set the pan on the stove, log out of my account, and try to log in using Queeny's email address so I can go through her messages and see what she's been chatting about. The password I use is denied, though, meaning she changed it. Odd, since she's used the same one for nearly five years. It's like she knew I was going to try to get into her account, which I guess she was right.

"Dammit." I grip the edge of the countertop, taking steady breaths. "Just calm down. Everything'll be okay."

Yeah, I'm not so sure my words carry a drop of truth. Queeny has the upper hand. She has all the dirt on me. She could destroy my life if she wants to, and she has already started. Do I know some of her dark secrets? Yeah. But I have no proof of her dirty deeds. Even if I did, people at Fareland High are firm believers in the whole "keep your friends close and your enemies closer" motto, so they'll side with Queeny.

"Well, I have some good news," Lucky announces, entering the kitchen.

_Yes! Good news_. I could really use that at the moment.

"Oh, yeah?" I collect myself before turning around to face him. "What is it?"

"Gabby has some extra stuff you can have." He picks up a piece of cheese from a plate on the counter. "She'll stop by later tonight and drop them off."

"She doesn't have to come over. I can borrow the car when Mom gets off work and drive over to her house."

"She's fine with coming here." He pops the piece of cheese into his mouth. "Unlike your friends, my girlfriend is cool with hanging out at this shithole."

I don't even bother arguing since neither Queeny, Janie, or Reina have stepped foot in this house. Queeny does pick me up for school—well, did—but she refused to drive down the dirt that leads to the trailer park, so I had to leave my house ten minutes early and hike to the entrance.

I turn on the burner. "Well, tell her thanks, and that I really appreciate her doing this for me."

"You can tell her that when she comes over." His tone carries an underlying warning: _you better be extra nice to her._

"I will," I assure him, but he doesn't look too convinced as he slips on his plaid jacket and heads for the front door.

"I'll be back around ten." He collects his car keys from the wall hook then opens the front door. "Mom should be home by eight. Keep a close eye on Dad. No leaving the house or anything."

"Trust me; I have nowhere to go." I return my attention to putting cheese and bread together, which is a hell of a lot easier than admitting to my brother why, overnight, I went from spending every free hour with my friends to coming home early from school, eating cereal on the sofa, and begging him for clothes.

I spend the next hour eating macaroni and a burnt grilled cheese sandwich. I'm elbow deep in homework and eating the marshmallows I picked out of the cereal when Gabby knocks on the door.

"Thanks for doing this," I make sure to say right off the bat as I let her in. "I really, _really_ appreciate it."

"You're welcome." She walks into the living room and sets down the box of clothes she brought with her. "I'm actually glad I get to give them to someone who will wear them instead of giving them to a second-hand store and hoping someone picks them up for clothing purposes."

"What other purposes would they use clothes for?" I ask, hoping I don't sound rude.

"Rags. Display items. I even saw one of my old shirts being worn by a cat. It was so tragically sad." She picks a red and black T-shirt with torn sides and frowns. "Every shirt, skirt, jeans, and shorts I've ever worn are connected to a memory, you know. This shirt right here, I was wearing it the day your brother first kissed me."

"Maybe you should keep that one," I suggest. Who knows what else they did that night besides kissing?

"You know what; I think I will. The rest are all yours." She carefully folds up the torn T-shirt like it's the most precious thing in the world then turns to face me, her dark purple stained lips lifting into a smile. "I gotta say, I was a little surprised when Lucky told me you wanted some of my old clothes. I mean, I know I've offered, but you and I have such different styles, and I..." She trails off, her gaze dropping to the teacup shirt I'm still wearing. "Wait a minute. That's not your shirt."

I self-consciously fiddle with the hem. "Yeah, I borrowed it from someone."

"Really?" She twists a strand of her dark auburn hair around her finger, mulling something over. "I'm pretty sure that's my cousin's shirt."

"Wait. Who's your cousin?"

"Clarissa Kensington." The shift in her tone makes me wonder if she knows what Queeny and I did to Clarissa.

I squirm, feeling like a real bitch. "I didn't know you were related to her."

"We don't have the same last name, so most people don't." She untangles her hair from her finger. "I saw her this morning, though, and she was wearing that shirt. She had it on over another shirt, but still... It doesn't explain why you're wearing it now since you two aren't even close to being friends." She pulls a guilty face. "Sorry. I didn't mean for that to come out so rude."

"It wasn't rude at all." _Clarissa_ left this shirt in the bathroom for me? Clarissa, the girl who Queeny and I destroyed. Why would she do that?

"Ash, is everything okay? You look... I don't know, confused."

"I'm just thinking about some stuff that happened at school."

"Anything you want to talk about?"

I shake my head. "Thanks for the offer, though."

"Well, if you change your mind and want to talk, Lucky has my number. Same goes for if you need more clothes." She backs for the door. "I wish I could stay longer, but I have to pick up take-out for my parents."

"No worries." I force the corners of my mouth upward. "I have a ton of homework to do, anyway."

She waves good-bye then walks out the door.

I turn to the box of clothes, wondering how I'm going to pull off Gabby's grunge look.

"There's only one way to find out." I kneel down on the floor and begin rummaging through the clothes. Halfway in, my phone vibrates from inside my pocket.

I distractedly dig it out, swipe my finger across the screen, then suck in a sharp breath.

**Queeny: Secret 1 is out, bitch. Have fun at school tomorrow. XoXo**

She doesn't mention what the secret is, but tomorrow is definitely going to be hell at Fareland High because Queeny never does things half-ass.

# Chapter Four

I'm going to let you in on a little secret since most of mine are probably going to be announced to the world soon. It's a secret no one knows about me, not even Queeny—thank my lucky unicorns. Because, if she knew, she'd be skipping on sunshine and rainbows that lead to a pot filled with the perfect revenge plan.

Anyway, back to my secret. I'm a stalker.

Don't go flipping out on me yet. It's not as bad as it sounds.

It all kind of started when my family first moved into the trailer park. Well, if I'm being honest, it may have begun in fifth grade when kids first started calling me Asslynn. Only, back then, this little secret was less stalker-ish and more of a cutesy crush. A crush on Maxon Harter.

My crush didn't develop because he was dazzlingly gorgeous or anything. Back in grade school, Maxon was gangling with too long hair, had holes in his clothes all the time, and wore oversized glasses. But he was the sweetest guy ever, something I discovered the day I flashed everyone at school.

After the incident, I ran out of the school, hid behind the dumpsters, and bawled my eyes out. When Maxon stumbled across me, I was a snotty nose, swollen and red-eyed mess of hysterical sobs.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his eyes huge behind his glasses.

I sniffled with my head hung low. "Yeah." More tears bubbled from my eyes, but I held them back, waiting for him to leave before I delved back into my meltdown.

Instead of leaving, though, he stood there in front of me, awkward silence stretching between us, until finally, I dared a glance up at him.

He had his lunch bag in one hand, his other hand stuffed in his pocket, and he was rocking back nervously on his heels.

"Do you need something?" I asked quietly, wiping my nose on my sleeve.

His cheeks flushed as he stared down at the asphalt. "I just wanted to see if you were okay."

"Yeah, I'm fine." I was so lost, though. Hadn't he already asked that? And why was he still here, hanging out with a loser girl who now had to live with the dumb nickname of Asslynn?

He looked as if he was about to be sick as he shuffled forward and sank down on the ground beside me, staring down at his unlaced sneakers. "I'm sorry that happened to you."

"It's fine," I replied, though it wasn't. But what was I going to do? I was only Ashlynn Wynterland, nobody special.

"No, it's not." He lifted his gaze to mine. "People shouldn't treat you that way, no matter what happened."

"I know that." I was thrown off by his intensity. Normally, he was so reserved. "But it's not like I can do anything about it."

"Yeah, there is," he insisted, turning to face me.

"Really?" I held my breath in anticipation. Could he really know a way? He was super smart, so maybe.

He nodded. "You can choose not to listen to them."

My hope went _kerplunk_ , but I hid my disappointment, not wanting to make him feel bad.

"That's a good idea." Yet only feasible if I didn't have ears.

His lips pulled into an encouraging smile. "Don't worry; it's not as hard as it sounds."

"How do you know?"

"Because I get teased all the time."

I knew this about him already. I'd never made fun of him personally, but a lot of kids at our school liked to call him science freak, four eyes, and other stupid stuff like that.

"You don't care that they make fun of you?" I questioned.

"Not really. Do I wish they'd stop? Sure. But I'm not going to change who I am to get them to do that. All I can really do is choose not to let their words affect me, and own who I am."

"You know, you're super smart for only being eleven."

He smiled at that, and then opened his lunchbox and offered me his cheese stick and half his sandwich. I thanked him, and then we spent the next ten minutes eating lunch together and chatting about cool television shows, movies, and how cool it would be to have a superpower. When it was time to go back to class, we parted ways.

We spent the rest of the week doing the same thing until school ended for summer break. I didn't see him again until middle school, when I became friends with Queeny.

She once caught me staring at Maxon in the cafeteria and warned me that, if I talked to him, we couldn't be friends anymore. Not wanting to be Asslynn, the loser sitting behind the dumpster again, I chose to let everyone's words affect me. I chose everyone who had ever been mean to me over a sweet guy who was nice to me during one of the worst weeks of my life.

And now look at me. Back to being the girl crying alone. Only, instead of hiding behind the dumpster, I hid in a bathroom stall. I highly doubt Maxon Harter is going to come to my rescue this time.

Still, as I lie in bed, listening to The Clash and fiddling with the cheese stick wrapper I dorkily saved from that day we ate behind the dumpster, I daydream he might. That tomorrow at school, he'll help me get through Queeny's torment. Only, instead of offering me his cheese stick, he'll let me hang out with his friends.

I shake my head. Who would've thought I'd be daydreaming of Maxon Hater becoming my friend? Well, okay, it isn't that weird considering I've daydreamed he was my secret make out buddy.

I lie in bed until the song ends and the time reaches 7:15. Then I push up from my bed, crack the curtain, and peer out the window at the trailer beside mine. Right on cue, Maxon walks into his bedroom and flips on the light. The window curtain is wide open, giving me a full view of every move he makes, from him tossing his backpack onto his bed to him shucking off his hoodie. His shirt comes off next, and I bite down on my lip as my stomach flutters.

He's not rock hard and ripped or anything, just lean and kind of toned, probably from his weekend job of doing yard work around the trailer park and surrounding neighborhoods.

I continue to spy on him as he kicks off his boots, slips off his leather bracelets, and then removes his studded belt. When he undoes the button of his jeans, I turn my back to my window, telling myself that what I'm doing doesn't make me a total perv since I look away before he takes his pants off. Deep down, though, I know I'm being a creeper.

In my defense, my favorite part about watching him isn't when he strips off his shirt, but what he does after he gets into his pajamas.

I keep my back to the window for a couple more minutes, giving him time to get changed before kneeling back up and crack the curtain again. He's changed into a pair of plaid drawstring pajama bottoms, a black T-shirt, and a pair of goggles, and is now standing in front of a small table covered with test tubes, beakers, a small torch, a long pipe, and a bunch of other strange looking objects. I have no clue what kind of strange contraption he's building, but I like watching him create experiments and build projects.

He always looks so content while working, like nothing else in the world matters but him and whatever he's creating. I envy him for being able to tune out the world and own who he is. I wish I would've taken his advice back in fifth grade and decided to wear what I wanted, openly listen to the music that I love, and declare to the world that I'd rather be home reading a book, messing around with tarot cards, or trying to channel spirit energy on Saturday nights than be out at a party. However, knowing Queeny would've made fun of me, I kept everything that truly makes me happy a secret, too weak and caring more about what she thought than what I thought about myself.

Yanking myself out of my pity party, I get situated with the curtain behind me and my cheek resting against the window as Maxon ignites a torch. I'm being pretty bold, sitting so out in the open, but since my bedroom light is off, he shouldn't be able to see me.

After he melts a piece of metal, he leans over and squints at the end of the pipe. Strands of his dark hair fall into his eyes as he bites down on his lip, looking lost in thought.

I smile, wondering what he's thinking, wondering what his lips would feel like if I—

"Ash, turn the damn music down! Dad's trying to sleep," my brother's voice unexpectedly rises over the music.

A microsecond later, my bedroom light flips on and illuminates against the darkness outside like a freakin' lighthouse.

I duck for cover as Maxon snaps his head in the direction of my window.

_Crappity, crap, crap. Did he see me?_

"Lucky, turn the light off," I hiss.

When he makes no move to do so, I army crawl out from under the curtain and ungracefully head dive off my bed, kicking the lamp off the nightstand in the process.

Lucky gapes at me like I just declared I want to prance around in a tutu for the rest of my life. "What the hell's your problem?"

"The light being on." I crawl over to where he's standing, jump up, and flip the light off. Then I hurry back to my bed, take a deep breath, and crack the curtain. "Please, please, please be completely oblivious to the fact that your next-door neighbor has an unhealthy habit of watching you from her bedroom window in the dark," I mutter as I peek over at his house.

The lights are off. _So_ not a good sign. He probably saw me and turned off all the lights so I couldn't see into his bedroom anymore.

Awesome.

Now, on top of recent leader of Loserville, I can add creeper/stalker to my resume when applying for new friends, which is the only way I'm going to be able to get new friends.

"You're acting weird," my brother comments, turning down the volume of the stereo. "Even for you."

I open my mouth, ready to feed him some lame excuse about stargazing. "I was just—"

"Please don't finish that sentence," he cuts me off, backing out of the room. "Because I'm pretty sure you were spying on that guy you're obsessed with who lives next-door, and while he was doing who knows what."

"He was just messing around with his torch," I reply defensively.

Wait. Hold up. What in the wild, wild bananas did he just say? Lucky knows I'm obsessed with Maxon? Am I that transparent?

Shit. If that's the case, then who else knows about my nerdy crush?

Lucky scrunches his nose. "His torch? Gross, Ash."

"That's not what I meant!" I pick up a pillow and launch it at him. "You're so disgusting."

He laughs, ducking out of the pillow's way. "Yeah, coming from the girl who just got busted spying on her neighbor while he messes around with his"—he makes air quotes—" 'torch.' "

I reach for another pillow to throw at him, but he scrambles out of my room, chuckling under his breath as he shuts the door.

Shaking my head, I turn back to the window and peer outside. I don't even know what I'm looking for. Maxon holding up a giant, flashing neon sign that declares: _I didn't see you watching me! You're good!_

Yeah, that'd be fantastic. The possibility of that happening is right up there with Queeny letting this whole revenge on Ash plan go.

Nope, I won't get a sign or a declaration, and I'm fairly positive Maxon saw me.

Wanting to kick my own ass for being such an idiot, I sink back into bed. Lovely. Now, not only do I have to worry about what secret Queeny told everyone, but I have to worry that Maxon Harter now knows about my borderline stalker crush on him.

# Chapter Five

The next morning, I fake a headache and stay home from school. During dinnertime, my mom grows skeptical about my alleged migraine and informs me I can't play hooky tomorrow. So, I get up extra early Wednesday morning to put together an outfit that will somewhat resemble my normal, light colored, pretty springtime style. But since almost all the clothes Gabby brought are dark, I have no alternative but to say screw my old style and put on a pair of torn, black, skinny jeans; a black, loose-fitting Nirvana shirt; and a dark green hooded jacket that reaches mid-thigh.

I have a lot of my own shoes, but most are strappy platforms in shades of silver, pink, and gold, so I opt for a pair of black leather, four-inch, clunky ankle boots that feel like they weigh ten pounds each. Then I pull my hair up into a ponytail, dab on some kohl eyeliner, some lip gloss, and then head out to grab some breakfast before the bus comes.

When I enter the kitchen, Mom is digging through one of the many boxes taking over the counters. She's wearing a pair of jeans and plaid shirt, and her brown hair is done up in a bun, dressed to go to work—the stores dress code policy is super casual.

"Hey, sweetie. Hope you're feeling better," she says without looking up. "Breakfast is on the table."

I glance over at the plate of bacon and eggs. "Mom, I thought we all agreed you'd stop making breakfast? Lucky and I can take care of ourselves."

"So what? That still doesn't mean I want to stop taking care of you." She draws her hand out of the box with her fingers wrapped around a small bag of ambers. "Now eat up before it gets cold..." Her eyes bulge out when she notices my outfit. "What on earth are you wearing?"

I tug on the bottom of the jacket. "Clothes."

"Ash, while I always appreciate your sarcasm, I've had way too little sleep for jokes. So please, lovely daughter of mine, tell your amazingly patient mother why you're dressed so bizarrely this morning... Wait? Is this like the pre-Halloween thing you and Queeny did last year when you dressed up the day before Halloween?" Her nose crinkles at the last part, as if she bit into a sour piece of candy; a look she always gets whenever she mentions Queeny.

While she's never flat-out said the words, I know she's always hoped I'd one day ditch the evil beotch who turned me into ditzy, shallow, cruel girl. What she doesn't realize, though, is Queeny didn't force me to become who I am. I _chose_ to.

I slump down in a chair at the table. "No, it's not a pre-Halloween thing. And we only did that the day before Halloween, not two weeks before." I pick up the fork and dig into the eggs. "I just decided to mix my style up a bit. You know, experiment with my identity. It's what all the cool kids are doing these days."

"Oh." She distractedly fiddles with a bag of ambers. "That's good, I guess."

I nibble on a piece of bacon. "Then why do you sound depressed about it?"

"I don't. I'm just a bit concerned over why my daughter completely changed her identity overnight. And I'd be a terrible mother if I wasn't worried that perhaps there's a bigger reason behind this abrupt style change. And perhaps it has something to do with why you had a _headache_ yesterday."

"Easy, ex-psych major," I tease. Inside, I turn all squirrely at her mad crazy perception skills.

"I'm not trying to psychoanalyze you." She leans against the counter. "I just want to make sure everything's okay."

"Of course." I shovel a forkful of eggs into my mouth. "Everything's always okay."

Doubt floods her eyes, and her lips part, but then she closes her mouth and lets out a slow exhale. "Fine, I'll accept that answer for now. I hope you change your mind and tell me the truth later."

With how convinced she is that something is wrong, I'm concerned Lucky may have told her what happened. But I doubt he'd do anything to add more stress to our mom's chaotic mess of a life.

"I'm really okay. This clothing change... it's not a big deal." I pop a piece of bacon into my mouth while glancing at the time on the microwave. "Crap, I gotta go." I shovel more eggs into my mouth, then collect my bag from off the floor and jump to my feet.

My mom slants back to check the time. "It's kind of early for Queeny to pick you up, isn't it?"

"She wants to stop and get coffee before school," I lie for the tenth time in two minutes. I feel like the worst person ever as I give her a hug in a lame attempt to make up for being horrible. I just hope she can't feel my heart pounding with my guilt.

"Oh, Ash, something's definitely bothering you," she says, hugging me back. "Please talk to me, honey."

"I promise I'm okay." I step back, sling my bag over my shoulder, and change the subject. "If you want, I can go through these boxes and do inventory when I get home."

"That's a nice offer, but what about Queeny?"

"What about her?" I feign dumb, pretending like I don't hang out with Queeny every day after school, at least on the days Lucky doesn't work, like today.

"Aren't you hanging out with her today?" she asks cautiously.

I shake my head, swallowing the lump wedged in my throat.

She assesses me with wariness. "Fine, if you feel up to it when you get home from school, you can sort through these boxes and sort the crystals and herbs. Then record how many there are in each category."

I tuck a stray strand of hair behind my ear. "It didn't come with a shipment list?"

"It usually does, but unfortunately, the company forgot to include one this time." She picks up the bag of ambers again, opens the top, and takes out a golden brown smooth stone. "Here, take one of these with you. It'll give you positive energy."

I'm not a big believer in crystals and stones giving out energy, but I take the amber, anyway, figuring I'll need every amount of extra positivity I can scrounge up. "Thanks."

She smiles, worry still residing in her eyes. "Are you sure you're okay?"

I nod, stuffing the stone into my pocket. "Yep, everything's great." I throw her a wave then dash out the front door before I cave and bury her with all of my problems.

When I step out onto the crooked front porch, I suck in a breath of the cool morning air to calm down my racing heart. I've never been fantastic at lying to my mom, and even with semi-good intentions, I feel sick to my stomach.

"It's for the best," I mumble as I trot down the steps and cut across the gravel driveway toward the dirt road that leads to the bus stop.

I've barely stepped over the border of my property when a beast of a car drives up the road. An 80s rock song is blasting from the speakers, the windows are grimy, and every piece of metal covering the car is a different color. I don't have to see the driver to know who owns the vehicle—it's one of those cars that is easily recognizable.

I consider ducking into my yard and hiding, but I'm going to have to face the entire school in about an hour, so I might as well rip off the Band-Aid now. Besides, crossing paths with Clove might be the easiest part of my day.

The car slows down as it nears my house then pulls into the driveway beside Maxon's family's trailer. The engine cuts, and then Clove hops out with that dopey smile on his face.

"Good morning, vampire, tarot card reader, potential ass grabber of mine who just doesn't know it yet." He bumps the door closed then rounds the back of the car, stuffing his car keys into the pockets of his faded jeans.

"Clove, Clove, Clove, we already talked about this," I tsk. "I'm only an ass grabber in your dreams."

"Well, maybe I am dreaming. Who really knows? Sometimes it's hard to tell what's reality and what's not." He tugs his beanie lower over his head, his brows dipping as he gets closer to me. Then his eyes flick up and down my body before he blinks his focus on my face again. "Yeah, I'm definitely dreaming."

I roll my eyes, pretending to be way cooler than I am, something I used to be fabulous at doing. "No, you're not, dude, so quit tripping."

"Um, yeah, I am. Because you only dress like that in my dreams, and say things like _quit tripping_."

Normally, I'd roll my eyes at such a cheesy line, but my nerves are too bubbly at the moment.

"There's nothing wrong with my outfit." I wipe my sweaty palms on the sides of my legs. "So, quit tripping."

His eyes glimmer with amusement as he wags a finger at me. "Nice one. But I'm still not convinced I'm awake." Sticking out his arm, he rolls up the sleeve of his long-sleeved black shirt then pinches his arm hard enough to leave a red mark. "Ow." His face twists in pain as he tugs down his sleeve. "Okay, yeah, I'm for sure awake."

"You know, there are easier ways to tell if you're awake or asleep."

"Really?" He rubs his jawline pensively. "And what are these alleged ways?"

I have to bite down on my lip to stop from cracking up. "Are you ever serious?"

He points a finger at me, his lips lifting into an adorable half-smile. "Only in my dreams."

"Ha, ha," I retort.

He chuckles, his eyes crinkling around the corners. Then his laughter fades. "Wait a second, should I be worried?"

I squint against the sunlight. "Um... About what?"

He tosses a quick glance up the road. "About whoever's about to show up to drive you to school... It's way too early to deal with Queeny or Knox. No offense or anything... I know they're your friends..." He leaves the sentence suspended between us, waiting for me to offer... Well, I'm not exactly sure. From the big showdowns that went on between Queeny, Knox, and me on Monday, I assume Clove knows about the Queeny and Knox versus Asslynn fight going on. Then again, he did have to pinch himself to make sure he wasn't dreaming.

"I'm actually heading to the bus stop..." My eyes widen as the bus rolls up to the end of the road. "Oh, for the love of all motherships, you have got to be kidding me."

Flinging a wave at Clove, I rush down the dirt road toward the bus, but in the four-inch, ten-pound death shoes, I only make it halfway before the bus drives off, leaving a cloud of stinking exhaust fumes behind.

I reel back around and trudge back toward my house, wanting to kick myself in the behind for missing my ride, and I probably would if I could kick my feet that high. Now I have to ask my mom to drive me to school, which means taking time away from her day and lying to her more when she drills me with questions.

I stick my hand into my pocket and rub my finger along the edge of the amber. _Come on; please become a magical crystal for one day and give me a drop of positivity._

"That was interesting to watch," Clove remarks, on the verge of laughing his butt off. "I didn't realize you were part penguin."

I slow to a stop in front of him and put my hand on my hip. "What's that supposed to mean?"

He rubs his hand across his mouth, hiding a smile. "It's what you looked like when you were running."

I've never seen a penguin run before, but I imagine it's a lot of waddling and wobbling, and very ungraceful looking.

I playfully swat his arm. "That's really mean. And FYI, I normally run like a boss. But with these things on"—I lift my foot up—"I feel like I'm walking around with weights strapped to my feet."

"Maybe you should take them off, then."

"I can't. None of my other shoes match this outfit."

He hesitates. "Please don't take this the wrong way, because you look nice—like, really, _really_ nice—but what's up with the outfit?"

"What's wrong with it?" I play dumb, mostly to mess with his head for telling me I run like a penguin.

"Nothing, really." He rubs the back of his neck, looking my outfit over. "You just look like..." He doesn't finish, pulling a wary face.

"Like what?" I press, half-expecting him to tell me I look like a giraffe or something.

"I don't know... Different."

" _Different_? That's the best you can come up with?"

"Without my morning dose of sugar, it is." He reclines against the trunk of his car and winks at me. "But give me about ten minutes, and I'll compliment the crap out of you."

I point a finger at him as I back across the strip of gravel dividing Maxon's trailer and mine. "You're good. Seriously, how do you not have a girlfriend?"

"Because I have way too many admirers to settle on just one." He charms me with a cocky grin. "Although, if you're offering, I might be willing to make an exception."

"Yeah, I'm not your type."

"Says who?"

"Says the last three girls you dated who were the complete opposite of me."

He wavers, bobbing his head back and forth. "I think you're wrong, but this is all a moot point, anyway."

I stop just short of the front porch. "Why?"

He steps toward me. "Because I couldn't date you even if I wanted to."

"Why not?" I ask, sounding more defensive than I probably should. "Is it because...?" I shift my weight, feeling way out of my comfort zone. "Is it because of everything Queeny's saying about me? Because none of it is true... What she said I did with that guy never happened." As for the secret she revealed yesterday, that could be true. Whether I like it or not, Queeny has all sorts of dirty gossip on me.

"Yeah, right. Like I'd ever listen to anything that comes out of that viper's mouth. She's nothing but poison. A poison I'm immune to, but still like to avoid." He hisses with his tongue out, looking ridiculously silly. When a giggle bubbles from my lips, he grins, looking rather pleased with himself. "But," he continues, putting on a pouty face, "despite my immunity to venomous snakes, I still can't date you. And it has nothing to do with Queeny, Knox, you, or anyone who runs in your little evil friend circle. Or well, your ex-friend circle."

His reminder that I officially only have ex-friends makes me sigh heavily. "Then what does it have to do with?"

"Sorry," he says with a shrug. "I can't tell you. At least, not right now."

"But maybe one day?"

"Maybe." He grins for no obvious reason than to radiate sunshine into the world.

I think about the amber in my pocket and wonder if Clove has buckets full of them at home.

I smile. "You're a pretty cool guy, Clove."

He winks. "I knew you liked me."

I roll my eyes. "And you're pretty cheesy."

"Some girls like that."

"I'm sure they do." I check the time on my phone. "I have to go beg my mom for a ride. Maybe I'll see you at school?" My question is casual, but I hold my breath, waiting for his answer, hoping he'll say yes, though I know I deserve a hell to the no from him.

"Absolutely." He starts for his car, but then whirls back around. "Hey, if you need a ride and don't want to bug your mom, me and Maxon can give you one."

I dither for a crazy train of different reasons, but the main one has to do with possibly getting caught in the amateur peeping Tom act the other night.

My silence causes his smile to deflate.

"It's cool if you don't," he says. "I just thought I'd offer."

"No, I want to. It's just..." I fiddle with my zipper, choosing my next words carefully. "Are you sure it's okay with Maxon?"

His brows knit together. "Why wouldn't it be?"

"I don't know." I rack my brain for an explanation that doesn't require outing my stalker habits. "The other day, during lunch in Mr. Chester's class, he didn't seem too thrilled you were talking to me."

"Nah. I promise he'll be cool with it."

As if sensing we're talking about him, the door to Maxon's trailer swings open and the subject of our debate walks out.

He's wearing a long-sleeved black shirt, dark grey jeans with stitching on the front, and the bottoms are tucked into a pair of heavy boots. His dark hair looks damp from a shower, and his cloudy eyes fix on Clove and me as he makes his way to the edge of his property. When he gets close enough to see my outfit, his eyes slightly widen, but he keeps his expression disinterested.

"Maxon, dude, we were just talking about you," Clove says cheerfully, seeming oblivious to the death glare Maxon is firing at me. Well, either that or Clove just doesn't care.

"And let me guess, it was all nice things?" He drags his gaze off me, focusing on Clove.

"Oh, absolutely," Clove tells him, shooting me a devious smirk. "In fact, Ash was just telling me that she'd love to ride with us to school because she thinks you're so nice and super cute."

"What the frick, dude." I swat his arm again, this time, a little less playfully. "I didn't say that." I look at Maxon, growing flustered. Well, isn't this just fabulous? After the stunt I pulled the other night and now this, he's for sure going to think I'm a crazy stalker girl. "I swear I didn't say that."

"Aw, Ash, come on; that's not how we get him to agree to let you ride with us." Clove slings his arm over my shoulder and whispers in my ear, "Maxon's kind of an Oscar the Grouch in the morning. You have to give him a little bit of trash to butter him up."

"Your metaphor is ridiculous," I tell Clove, squirming under Maxon's withering stare. "And he doesn't look very happy that you're talking to me."

"Quick, tell him we'll stop at the gas station and get him a blue slushy and some licorice," he whispers loud enough for Maxon to hear.

"A blue slushy and licorice?" I carry Clove's gaze to avoid enduring Maxon's death glare. "At eight o'clock in the morning?"

"It's his crack," Clove assures me with a nod. "But I think the offer needs to come from you since he looks like he's trying to laser beam your head off with his eyes."

"Can we just get going?" Maxon says, his voice tight. "I have some stuff I need to work on in the science lab before school starts."

"Just a second." Clove holds up his hand in Maxon's face, and Maxon stares at him, unimpressed. "Ash needs to make you an offer. Then we can go." Clove looks at me expectantly. "Ash?"

At this point, I literally can't tell what's a joke and what's not, so I decide to play along, unsure of what else to do. Besides, I'd rather endure an awkward ride with Maxon than have to ask my mom to drive me and be late opening the store.

"Maxon, would you be so kind as to let me ride with you guys to school?" I ask, and Clove motions for me to continue. "And in return, we can stop at the gas station and purchase you a blue slushy and some licorice, because I've heard it's supposed to be your crack. Or your trash."

Clove steps back and gestures for Maxon to speak.

At first, I think he isn't going to say a word as he stares at me with a blank expression, but then I detect the slightest quirk of his lips. He trades a glance with Clove, who gives him a curiously big smile.

"Fine," Maxon says curtly, the corners of his lips briefly twitching. "But only if I can have an extra-large."

I nod. "Absolutely."

"Okay, then." With that, he turns and hikes across the gravel toward Clove's clunker.

And that's how I find myself climbing into a car with Maxon Harter and Clove Capperson, two guys I never thought I'd be riding to school with and who should hate me. And maybe they do. Maxon sure seems to. So do most of his friends, with the exception of Clove. Honestly, I question if Clove spends a lot of time skipping around and singing show tunes. The dude's seriously the cheeriest guy I've ever met.

I have to wonder, if they knew the whole truth about me, about everything I've done, would they be kicking my ass to the curb right now.

# Chapter Six

The backseat of Clove's car is piled with boxes of stuff, so I end up sitting bitch in the front seat.

As Clove pulls out onto the street, I have to fight back the stunned laughter that I'm squished between him and Maxon, who smells like soap, cologne and, strangely enough, cotton candy.

"What in the heck?" Clove rolls down his window. "Why does it smell like someone danced around in a field of sugar all night long?" He looks at me accusingly. "Wait. Are you wearing some kind of sugary, girlie perfume?"

I shake my head. "Nope. I smell like strawberries with a splash of vanilla."

He crooks a brow at me. "Sounds pretty sugary to me."

"Maybe it's you," I retort. "You do kind of look like a sugary smelling sort of guy."

"What does a sugary smelling guy look like?" he asks, intrigued. "Handsome? Charming? Ass grab worthy?"

Maxon lets out a choking cough, but hastily puts the scowl back on. "What the heck are you doing, Clove?"

"What? She thinks I'm funny," Clove says, making a left turn onto the main road that runs through the center of Fareland. "Right, Ash?"

"Um..." My gaze flickers to Maxon, who looks annoyed as he waits for my answer. "He is kind of funny." I don't know why I'm so hesitant, or why Maxon appears so aggravated by my answer. Trying to win him over, I add, "Sorry?"

He thrums his fingers on top of his leg. "It's fine. You can think he's funny if you want." He turns to stare out the open window. "It's not my damn problem."

A slow breath eases from my lips. Jeez, he's a hard crowd to win over. At the same time, I guess I deserve every dirty look and rude remark thrown at me, not only for being a complete a-hole to him for the past six years, but for being a total creeper. Although, I'm still not sure if he did catch me spying on him. Based on the last ten minutes, I'd have to go with a yes, he did.

"You know what we need?" Clove asks, extending his hand for the stereo.

"No, we don't." Maxon narrows his eyes at him, but the corners of his lips twitch into a trace of a smile.

"I think we do." Clove grabs the knob and starts surfing through radio stations. "It'll cheer everyone up."

"I doubt that." Maxon's gaze flits in my direction. "She probably won't even know a song."

"Yeah, she will. In fact, I know she will." Clove winks at me like we're sharing a secret joke. Either that or he's baiting me.

"Know what?" I ask, taking the bait.

"Oh, you know." Clove winks at me again.

"I really don't know." It's the truth, too. I'm so lost; lost in Weirdo Nerd Crazy Land, a place I find strange but welcoming. Instead of staring at him all stupid, I-don't-get-it, I throw sarcasm back at him. "Other than maybe you have something stuck in your eye. I have eye drops if you need to borrow them."

Clove chuckles, settling on a station. "You're a clever girl, Ashlynn Wynterland. I wouldn't have guessed that about you."

"You thought I was stupid?" I question, a tiny bit hurt, but not that much since I can see why he'd think that.

He shrugs then clears his throat. "All right, no more chatting. It's time for a little flashback to the eighties." He cranks up the volume and "Blitzkrieg Bop" __ by the Ramones rattles through the speakers. With a grin, he drums his fingers to the beat and belts out the lyrics at the top of his lungs in a very off-key pitch.

I turn to Maxon to see what he thinks about the insanity, but his attention is on me, not Clove. When our eyes meet, he quickly looks forward and begins tapping his fingers against his knee.

Clove lightly elbows me in the ribs. "Come on, Ash; I know for a fact that you know this song."

He's not wrong, but still...

"How do you know that?" I shout over the music.

"Because I've heard you playing it from your house before. You listen to a lot of punk rock." I don't know what kind of face I pull, but he promptly adds, "Don't worry; it'll be our little secret." He pauses and a mischievous glint sparkles in his eyes. "But only if you sing along."

"I'm not too worried about people finding out." No, I have way worse problems to worry about than people finding out my music tastes don't really center around pop hits like I've led them to believe. "But I'll sing along with you, anyway, because this song is too awesome not to."

Clove's lips spread into a smile as he picks up a penny from the cup holder and chucks it at Maxon. "Sing along or no blue slushy for you." The penny pegs Maxon in the forehead.

Shaking his head and smiling, he throws the penny back at Clove.

Huh. So he's only cranky with me. Nice to know.

"Fine, but I'm only participating in this stupidity to get you to shut up," Maxon tells Clove.

"Say whatever you want, man, but deep down, we both know how much you _love_ eighties punk rock." Clove throws another smirk at Maxon, only this time the move is different. It's less light and playful and more conveying a statement.

Whatever the statement is causes Maxon to retaliate with the dirtiest look ever.

"Don't even go there," he warns Clove. "I mean it."

"Too late." Clove pulls a whoopsie face then lets out a giggle.

Yes, the dude's a giggler, which is as weird as it sounds, but kind of adorable, too.

Clove cups his hand around his ear. "I don't hear any singing."

Maxon and I exchange a look, and I relax a drop when I see that bitch-I-loathe-your-guts look has vanished. Shrugging, I start singing, letting my true self shine through for a split second, and holy crazy drum beats does it feel amazing, like I've been living behind a glass window for the last six years and have finally dared to run out into the real world. And while the moment is short and brief, I grasp it with everything I have in me, singing and laughing.

I can only imagine what Queeny would say if she saw the three of us together. She'd probably lose her damn mind with pure glee over getting handed a pile of ammunition to torment me with.

The song ends as Clove pulls up in front of the gas station. He parks near the front door and shuts off the engine.

"Fun, right?" he asks me, slipping the keys out of the ignition.

I nod truthfully. "Yeah, it really was."

He glances at Maxon then back at me. "Fun enough to ride with us to school again?"

I peek over my shoulder at Maxon to see what he thinks about Clove's offer. Again, he's watching me, but before our gazes can connect, he bails out of the car.

I return my attention to Clove. "I'd love to ride with you guys, but only if both parties are cool with it."

"He's cool with it," he promises, opening the door to get out. "He's just nervous."

"About what?"

Clove only offers me an amused smile before getting out and disappearing into the gas station. Confusion breakdances in my head as I hop out of the car. Clove is a really cool guy and everything, but can he ever give a straightforward answer?

By the time I walk into the store, Clove has piled half the candy aisle into his arms, and Maxon is raiding the slushy machines. Deciding a slushy doesn't sound too bad, I make my way back and grab the smallest cup size, not wanting to splurge on a bigger one. But Maxon nudges my hand away from the smaller cups and sticks an extra-large in my hand.

I glance down at the cup, and then back at him. "If I drank this much blue slushy, my pee would look like a smurf."

A teeny, tiny smile tips his lips up. "Only extra-large slushies are allowed in the car."

"That sounds like a made up rule."

He slides his cup underneath the blue slushy nozzle. "Aren't all rules made up?"

"I guess so." I feel like I'm being tested. I just wish I knew what would happen if I passed or failed.

I do a mental add up of how much change I stuffed into my pocket this morning. If I go for the big size, I'll have seventy-five cents less for lunch, which means no small bag of Cheetos for me. But my need to pass this test outweighs my desire for cheesy goodness, so I wait until Maxon moves his cup out from under the machine before I shove an extra-large one underneath. As I pull down on the lever, a ghost smile of approval rises on his lips. Then he walks off toward the candy aisle.

Once my cup is full, I plop on a lid, grab a straw, and then head for the register. Maxon and Clove are already there with their candy and slushies piled on the counter. They're facing each other and arguing over which kind of gum to get: cotton candy or spearmint.

"Are you kidding me? You want cotton candy?" Clove gapes at Maxon. "That's the most disgusting flavor ever. I don't even know why they make it."

"Cotton candy is awesome." Maxon snatches up a pack and smacks it on the counter.

"You and your sugar addictions," Clove replies in disgust. "Maybe it was you stinking up my car with the overwhelming stench of sugar."

"Actually, it was." Maxon rests an arm on the counter. "But only because I spent this morning pulling apart a cotton candy machine for our project. There was still some stuck in the bowl, and I got it all over my hands."

"Great. I bet you left sticky shit all over the door handle of my car." Clove heaves an overdramatic sigh. "That's going to be a pain in the ass to clean up."

The cashier, a woman in her early twenties, watches Clove and Maxon argue with her brows pinched. When she finishes ringing up their purchases, she clears her throat. "Your total's ten fifty-seven." She tries to bedazzle Clove with a flirty smile. "And, in my opinion, spearmint is better than cotton candy."

Clove smirks at Maxon. "See? I'm right."

Maxon rolls his eyes, and then his gaze settles on me. He pauses, looking at me strangely, before snatching the slushy from my hand and setting it on the counter. "And this, too."

"I can buy my own slushy." I move for the cup, but he gently smacks my hand away.

"I'm the one who made you get the extra-large size. I can pay for it," he mutters, turning back to the cashier as he reaches into his back pocket for his wallet.

I want to protest, but Clove swiftly shakes his head and mouths, " _Make him happy and let him buy it._ "

I don't know why buying my slushy would make Maxon happy, but I decide to keep my trap shut.

After Maxon gets his change, he tears open the bag of licorice, puts a piece in place of a straw, and then returns my slushy to me. Then he does the same to his slushy and takes a long sip, watching me expectantly. The combo doesn't seem that appealing, but feeling as though I'm getting initiated into a club, I take a small sip.

"Okay, this is actually pretty good," I answer honestly. "It kind of makes me want to try cotton candy gum."

He backs toward the doors, tucking the bag of licorice under his arm. "You've never tried cotton candy gum before?"

I shake my head as we step out of the store where the sky is now a pale pink. "Nope. I've never really been a fan of cotton candy flavor, but I don't know, now I'm kind of wondering..." I trail off as Knox's silver Mercedes wheels into the parking space next to Clove's car. "Well, that's just super."

The engine turns off and Knox hops out, leaning down to check his reflection in the car's side mirror.

Anger burns under my skin as I recollect the post I saw, and it only doubles when he rounds the car, opens the passenger door, and Queeny gets out.

"What a gentleman," Queeny says with a giggle, taking his hand. "No wonder I like you so much."

"Gentleman, my ass," I grumble, tearing a bite out of the licorice straw. "In about a month, you'll be opening your own doors and paying for your own dinners and movie tickets."

"What's wrong?" Maxon startles me as he moves up beside me.

For a bitch of a moment, I have the urge to run back into the gas station and hide so Queeny and Knox won't see me with Clove and Maxon. The old Ash would have done that, fearing losing her popularity. But the old Ash kind of sucked and got herself into this sort of mess, so I stay put.

"Nothing's wrong," I lie, and very stupidly, too, because he tracks my gaze and figures out on his own what's got me looking like I'm about to vomit blue slushy and licorice all over my four-inch weighted down shoes.

"Well, shit." Clove pulls a face at the _official_ couple making out on the hood of his car. "They really are together."

"Yep, they sure are." Bitterness bites from my tone. I may hate them both, but that doesn't make the knife lodged in my back any more bearable.

"But the real problem is, how are we going to get them away from my car?" Clove asks, looking at me for an answer. "Yell at them?"

"Queeny's pretty self-involved, so she might not even notice if you yell at her." My stomach constricts as Queeny plants her butt on the hood of Clove's car and pulls Knox in for a slobbery kiss.

"I could always hose them down," Clove suggests, seeming delighted by the idea. "I'm sure that'd break up their throat inspection pretty quickly."

The knife in my back becomes a bit easier to endure. "That's a great idea, and one I'd love to witness, but I'm pretty sure there's no hose here."

"Then we could dump your slushy on them." He extends his hand for my cup.

I move the cup behind my back. "No way. I love this slushy way too much to waste it on them."

Clove appears positively pleased by my answer. "We could always use Maxon's slushy."

"Absolutely not," I say. "Then he'll just turn into Oscar the Grouch again."

"You know, I'm standing right here, and I can hear everything you're saying," Maxon mutters from beside me.

"That's great, man. Glad you haven't lost your hearing yet," Clove tells him with a clever smile. "Although, most people don't normally see a reduction in their hearing until they reach their sixties, so it's a little odd you're worrying about yours now."

"Your jokes are starting to get really old," Maxon replies dryly.

"No, your hearing is, remember?" Clove quips, popping a Skittles into his mouth. "Now I'm a little concerned that your memory is, too. Quick, what happened last night when you got home from science club?"

Maxon's gaze skates to mine, and my cheeks morph into the color of fire ants.

Well, there you go. He definitely saw me.

"Nothing happened," Maxon insists, fiddling with his licorice straw. "My memory's fine. My hearing's fine. Everything's fine. You, on the other hand... maybe you should lay off the weed for a while."

Clove lets out a fat-chance-in-hell snort then takes a long glug of his soda while staring at his car. "Okay, let's take a break from discussing our sanity and focus instead on the bigger problem happening right in front of us."

"You mean, the porn show going on, on the hood of your car?" I ask, pulling a repulsed face as Queeny wraps her legs around Knox's waist.

Maxon starts hacking, red-faced, coughing and pounding on his chest.

"Are you okay?" I give him a gentle pat on the back. "Did you choke on the licorice? Or give yourself a brain freeze?"

Maxon swiftly looks away, catching his breath. "I'm good."

"Ash, you can't say words like porn show around virgin ears," Clove stage whispers. "And that word leaving your lips... That makes it, like, ten times worse."

"Sorry," I apologize, not bothering to point out my own virgin status. "But why does it make it worse if I say it?"

"Because you're pretty." Clove leans in closer, his breath tickling my cheek. "And Maxon thinks you're pretty, which makes him think dirty thoughts when you say dirty words."

"All right, I'm over your jester act at my expense," Maxon announces, stepping forward to snare Clove's gaze. "I don't know what your deal is today, but apparently your end mission is to embarrass me."

Clove nods with an amused glint in his eyes. "Perhaps."

I shake my head. So much for getting Maxon in a good mood.

Grimacing, Maxon storms off toward the car, yanks open the door, and lays on the horn as he sinks into the driver's seat.

Queeny and Knox jolt from the car, wide-eyed and panicked. Maxon doesn't let up off the horn as they fix their clothes and hair.

Once Queeny's dress and every strand of hair is perfectly in place, she aims her notorious bitch face at Maxon while Knox takes out his phone, seeming bored.

"What the hell, freak?" She approaches the edge of the curb and stares him down with her hands on her hips. "Stop honking that stupid horn before I come over and make you."

Maxon taps the horn three more times. "If you don't want to get a horn honked at you, then maybe you should make out on your own car."

"Are you stupid?" she sneers. "You don't make out on the hood of a Mercedes. But I guess you probably don't know that since you drive this piece of shit and have never made out with a girl."

"Clever comeback." Maxon's tone oozes sarcasm. "Tell me, do you come up with them on your own, or do you get them out of the bitch hand guide?"

"Okay, I clearly underestimated his bad mood. We should've put, like, fifteen pieces of licorice into, like, five slushies," Clove mutters before jogging over to Maxon.

I understand what he's saying. While Maxon has always owned who he is, he's also avoided getting into fights with Queeny, and with everyone else for that matter. Why start now?

"Max, my man, get out of my seat so I can drive our asses to school," Clove says in a pressing tone. "And before you get bit by the evil viper."

"Excuse me?" Queeny shuffles off the curb, glaring at Clove. "What did you just call me?"

"Which time?" Clove drags his hand across his jaw. "Because there's been a lot of times I've called you a lot of things."

Queeny's eyes flare. "Just who the hell do you think you are?"

Clove rests his arms on the top of the door. "I'm Clove. I sit behind you in Math class. But you probably don't know that since you spend the entire class staring at your reflection in that pocket mirror you always carry around and chanting, what I'm assuming is, 'mirror, mirror in my hand, who's the bitchiest in Fareland?' Personally, I don't get why you keep asking the same question. Everyone knows the answer."

Fuming, she strides toward him with her hand raised. Clove makes no move to step back and doesn't need to. Queeny can hit about as hard as a Muppet baby. Her mouth is what does the damage. And a few days ago, I would've stood by and watched her destroy Clove, but that was when I hadn't fully experienced her viper bite. When I was a coward. When I hid behind my popularity. When I was as bad as her. But I don't want to be like Queeny anymore.

Amazing how much can change in a few days.

Amazing how much can change after you felt the poison from a viper bite.

Despite my brave thoughts, I feel like I'm back in fifth grade again as I make my way over to Clove.

_Don't back down. Keep going. Don't let her go after Clove. Let her go after you. You've got nothing else to lose, anyway._

"There you are." I step in between Clove and Queeny, having no clue where I'm going with this, but I keep my lips moving, speaking directly to Clove. "I thought you drove off without me."

Clove raises an eyebrow at me. "Now why would I do that? That'd be as bad as letting someone make out on my Mercedes."

I press my lips together to hold back a laugh. "Well, I'm glad you didn't. I'd hate to be left here with all the vipers lurking around." God, I feel sick to my stomach as I feel her eyes boring into the side of my head. I can almost feel her wheels turning, searching for a way to rip me apart.

_Going up against her is way hard._

"Oh, my God." Queeny gapes at my outfit. "What the hell are you wearing?"

"Clothes," I quip. "You know, those pieces of fabric people wear to cover up their bodies to keep from getting arrested for public indecency."

She rolls her eyes. "That's not what I meant and you know it."

"I don't know that for sure," I tell her. "Sometimes your intelligence is questionable. Like that one day you thought bird shit was a dirty raindrop."

"That happened one time." Her eyes narrow on Clove as he giggles. Then her gaze glides back to me. "So, are you two, like, a thing?" Her mocking tone makes my jaw twinge.

"So what if we are?" I ask with my chin held high. "He'd be _way_ better than my last boyfriend."

She lets out a disdainful laugh. "God, Ash, just because we're not friends anymore doesn't make it okay for you to start dating losers."

"He's not a loser," I snap, losing all of my coolness. "And how is it any of your business who I date? You know, since we're not friends anymore."

"You're right. It's not my business. Just like it's not _your_ business who I date." She struts back to Knox, who's texting on his phone, oblivious to the fight going on.

Knox looks up from his phone when Queeny loops her arm through his. "What's going on?" He glances from Queeny to me and his expression falls. "Ashlynn, I didn't know you were here."

"Well, Knox Junior Junior," I use his full name, knowing he despises it. Who can blame him? It's a really stupid name. "You probably didn't see me because you were too busy sticking your tongue down my ex-best friend's throat."

He has the balls to act apologetic. "I'm sorry. I know it has to be hard watching us together. But you did cheat on me, and that was really hard for me to hear about." He drapes his arm over Queeny's shoulder and pulls her against him. "So, you might as well get used to seeing us as a couple."

"Why would I bother doing that? She's only using you like she does every other guy," I retort, loathing my shaky voice. "And in a couple of days, she'll be on to someone new."

"Don't sound so jealous." A conniving grin twists at Queeny's lips. "We both know what happens when you get jealous."

And just like that, I painfully become aware of what secret is going to be buzzing around the school hallways.

_Well, there could be worse._

"So, that's the secret you told everyone?" I play the unaffected card, though I'm freaking the eff out. "You must be going soft."

"Far from it." Her eyes darken as she steps toward me. "This is just the start, bitch, to a very, _very_ long and painful fall to hell where you belong."

"Coming from the devil herself." I inch toward her with my hand balled at my side.

She notices my clenched fist, and her smile falters. Then that my-shit-don't-stink smirk rises again. "What? Are you going to hit me or something?" She laughs like the idea is absurd, though she knows I'm not a clawer or hair puller. In fact, I can see the hint of concern in her eyes. "Like you ever would. You're such a coward. You have been since the day I rescued you from being a loser." She clasps her hands together and rolls her eyes. " _Oh, Queeny, please save me from this scary middle school that calls me mean nicknames. I can't do it by myself because I'm pathetic and weak, and I have no backbone._ " She lowers her hands to her sides, and her expression hardens. "Just like your father, who can't even hold down a job because he was dumb enough to fall off a roof. And your mom—God, that woman is such a hot mess. I mean, _hello_ , it's called makeup and she definitely needs it. And Lucky? All he is, is a stupid pothead who can't even kill a freaking bug."

My anger skyrockets from a ten to an eleven hundred in half a second flat. I swear something breaks inside me. Shatters. I don't know what it is, other than my self-control to remain calm.

I step toward her, my tone eerily cold. "Maybe you're right. Maybe I couldn't hurt anything. But what if you don't know me as well as you think? I mean, I am hanging out with these guys"—I gesture toward Clove and Maxon, who are watching the scene unfold in shock—"which I'm sure you thought would never happen. So you might want to be extra careful with what you say because, who knows, maybe I'll finally snap and pull those damn extensions out of your hair, break your fake nails, and pop that stupid gel-filled bra!" Any willpower I had left explodes as I drop my slushy and storm at her, ready to throw down.

Her lips curl into a grin, as if I'm doing exactly what she wants, which should be enough of a warning to get me to stop. However, I'm too far gone, drowning in a sea of angry hot lava.

Before my knuckles can make contact with her cheek, an arm slips around my waist and yanks me back.

"Don't be like her," Maxon whispers in my ear as he draws me against his chest. "You're better than this, Ash."

"Says who?" I seethe through my heaving, erratic breaths.

He holds me securely against him. "Says the guy who knew the old Ash."

"The old Ash was weak," I whisper hoarsely.

"No, she wasn't. And I liked her a lot better," he says in a gentle yet firm tone. "She would've never punched someone to get revenge and risk getting into some serious trouble. She would've found another, a less violent way."

"But she insulted my family." I glare at Queeny as she shimmies back to Knox and kisses him on the mouth with her eyes on me.

"I know, but if you hit her, you're giving her exactly what she wants." His lips touch my ear as he whispers, "Is that what you want to do? Give her what she wants?"

I smash my quivering lips together and shake my head. "No."

He releases a relieved exhale. "Then walk away, get in the car with me, and let's go to school."

I take five measured breaths before being able to nod. "Fine. Let's go."

His fingers tremble as his hands settle on my hips, steering me toward the passenger side of the car.

"Dating them both, huh?" Queeny calls after me as I lower my head and slide into the torn leather seat of Clove's car. "I guess screwing Zane turned you into a little skank."

My fingernails return to my palms, digging deep as Clove and Maxon get into the car with me.

"Tune her out," Maxon tells me, slamming the door shut after getting in. Then he slants forward and catches Clove's eye. "Let's roll up the windows and crank up the music."

Clove nods, revs up the engine, and cranks up the radio, smothering the sound of Queeny's sneering. Then they roll up the windows, and Clove backs out of the parking lot and drives onto the street.

None of us speak as we drive toward school with the music blasting and Maxon's leg resting against mine. I don't even know if he realizes how close he's sitting, to the point where I can feel his body heat radiating off of him. Under normal circumstances, I'd be giddy over the fact that the guy I've been crushing on for years is touching me. But I'm too riled up to be giddy.

I hate Queeny so badly in this moment I can barely think straight. All of this—the name calling, insulting my family, and slut shaming—over a stupid lie someone told about me. Just thinking about everything she said makes me rethink my decision not to hit her.

"Ash, you did the right thing," Maxon says suddenly. "And eventually, it'll get easier."

I want to believe him. I really do. But I know Queeny better than he does. This isn't going to get easier. Things are only going to get worse. And maybe not just for me.

The realization hits me square in the chest.

"I'm worried I might have dragged you guys into this mess," I admit shamefully. "I'm so, so sorry."

"Clove and I can handle Queeny and her tantrums. We've been doing it for years," Maxon assures me then hands me his slushy. "Now drink up; you'll feel better."

"Why? Is this a magical, anger erasing slushy?" I ask, almost smiling.

He nods, his cloudy eyes sparkling. "It actually is. That cashier back there was a witch, and I had her cast an anti-anger spell on it."

My smile slips through as I take a sip of the slushy, trying not to think about how his lips were wrapped around the piece of licorice.

"Feeling better?" Maxon asks as I take another gulp.

I nod. "A little bit."

He smiles genuinely at me, maybe for the first time since grade school, "See? What'd I tell you? Magic."

"Yep. I guess you're right." I don't think it's the magical slushy making me feel better, though. It's the guy who gave it to me.

Guilt knots in my belly. After everything I've done to him—stuff I've never apologized for—I don't deserve his kindness.

I could try to apologize. He deserves that much—deserves more—but then I'd have to openly admit all the terrible things I've done to him and his friends, some of which he doesn't know about.

_Just do it, Ash. Do the right thing._

Before I can arrive at a decision, Clove turns into the school parking lot and parks the car. "All right, who's ready for another day of hell?" he jokes, rubbing his hands together.

I start to laugh when my phone buzzes from inside my pocket. I don't want to look, and if I was a stronger person, I wouldn't. I'm not, and therefore, I read the incoming message.

**Queeny: Nice stunt you pulled at the gas station. I don't even know why you're mad at me. You're the one who screwed up, but maybe I didn't make that clear enough yesterday. You were always a slow learner. Guess I'll just have to keep teaching you lessons until you get it through your head. XoXo**

I fold my fingers around my phone. Yep, Clove, another day of hell, indeed. And a hell I might deserve to live in for what I've done.

# Chapter Seven

Maxon and Clove don't say much as we part ways in the hallway to head to class. I try to convince myself that their rushed exits have to do with the bell ringing and not because they don't want to be seen with me. Still, my insecurities creep up as I walk down the hallway alone, hugging my books to my chest and trying to ignore the gawking of almost every single person I cross paths with.

"So, Ass, I heard you like to pee on girls' cars when they date a guy you like." Judd grins smugly at me as I pass by.

His two doofus friends cackle with laughter and give him playful bro smacks on the arms.

"Dude, wasn't that video so gross?" doofus number one asks Judd. "Seriously, what kind of girl pees on the tire of a car?"

My stomach knots with humiliation. Not only did Queeny tell everyone I peed on the tire of a girl's car, but she showed them the video. People saw me like _that_.

"A pretty freaky one," Judd replies, grinning at me. "But hey, think about all the other stuff she'd be willing to do if she did that."

I try to bite back the words wanting to spew out of my mouth, but do a sucky job. "I was drunk, and I only did it because Queeny dared me to. Not because I was jealous."

"You're so full of shit." Judd's lips tug into an arrogant grin as he pushes away from his locker. "I know all about what jealous girls do when they get upset."

"Are you talking about Clarissa?" doofus number two asks, and Judd nods. "Yeah, that bitch was straight up crazy. Remember when she broke into your house and burned your clothes?"

"Of course I remember," Judd bites out. "She nearly burnt my house down."

"You're so full of shit, Judd," I say, knowing there's no way Clarissa would ever do something like that, jealous or not.

"No, I'm not." He strides toward me, getting in my face. "You can even ask my mom—she had to call the fire department."

"Seriously?" I ask, leaning back as I get a whiff of his rancid breath. "You want me to call your mom? What are we, in second grade?"

His jaw twinges. "Do you have any idea how many valuable items were ruined in that fire? She even burned my new Rolex."

I press my hand to my chest and gasp sarcastically. "Oh, God, not the Rolex."

He scowls, backing away from me. "Whatever. I don't need to prove anything to you. You're nothing but a loser who pees on cars and screws around with your best friend's boyfriends."

"Zane wasn't her boyfriend," I point out. "And it doesn't even matter because I didn't do anything with him."

"Sure you didn't." His eyes burn with a hatred I don't understand. It's not like I ever did anything to him. Well, except for aiding in the breaking up of him and Clarissa.

Okay, maybe he does have a right to hate me, even if he's a douchebag who easily gave in to Queeny's tricks.

"Although, I gotta say, Queeny should've seen it coming," Judd says smugly. "From what I hear, you'll spread your legs for anyone who asks."

My lips part in shock. "Who told you that?"

His lips curl. "Who do you think?"

I grind my teeth at the stupidity of my question. "Well, Queeny is lying. That's not true at all. Not even close."

"Oh, it wasn't Queeny." He grins as I frown. "Hate to break it to you, sweetheart, but there are a lot more people who hate you than you think." He leans close to my face again. "And the people who hate you are untouchable." He smirks one final time before striding down the hallway, laughing his ass off with his friends.

From out of the corner of my eye, I spot Huntley shutting his locker, his gaze fixed on me. He stares me down in a way that makes me extremely uncomfortable, his gaze reading: _you so deserve this_. Then he turns and walks away, swinging his bag over his shoulder.

My mind flies about a million miles a minute. Who else would spread rumors about me? Sadly, probably most of the school. Janie, Reina, and even Clarissa could've told him that. And what about Knox? Would he do something like that to me?

A day ago, I would've said no. After seeing him at the gas station with Queeny, I wouldn't be surprised if he became her new sidekick.

# Chapter Eight

The rest of the day doesn't get any better, but I wasn't expecting it to. What I wasn't expecting was for Maxon, Clove, and all of the other science groupies to be MIA. They don't show up in any of the classes we have together, I don't spot them in the hallways between classes, and they're not in Mr. Chester's classroom during lunchtime. I spend those forty-five minutes alone, messing around with my tarot cards and rotting my teeth out with vending machine junk food. I consider asking Mr. Chester if he knows where the science team is, but then I decide it's none of my business.

They may have been kind to me this morning, but we're not friends. And with the exception of Clove and maybe Maxon now—I'm still undecided if he was being nice to me because he felt sorry for me—their detest for me blazes like hellfire, scorching every inch of land to flakes of charred ember and singed dust. Yeah, okay, I may have spent a little too much time at lunch attempting poetry for an English assignment, but you get my point.

Being the social outcast does give me a ton of free time, though, which I chose to spend attempting to get to the bottom of who started the rumor about me hooking up with Zane, and who told Judd I was an easy lay. The more I poke my nose around, the more my list of suspects grows.

_Jeez, a lot of people loathe me,_ I think to myself as I walk away from Tina and Beth and toward the back of Mr. Chester's classroom. We used to chat every day before class, and while I found a lot of the conversations mind-numbingly dull, I tried to be nice and pay attention to what they said.

Today, though, when I walk into science class, Tina and Beth stick their noses up so I high I can see their nose hairs.

_So gross._

Sighing, I plop down on a barstool at an empty table and do my best to ignore the smirks and whispers thrown in my direction as I dig out a pen and my suspect list from my bag.

_Just suck it up, Ash. One more class to get through. Then you can go home and wallow in a tub of ice cream._

"Mind if I sit here?" Clarissa materializes by my table with her books in her arms and a I-want-to-be-anywhere-but-here look on her face.

"Um, sure." I move my bag to the floor, hoping I don't appear as baffled as I feel. But what in the crazy Banshees is happening right now? She wants to sit by me? Me, the girl who aided in the destruction of her relationship with her boyfriend?

Wait. Did Clove put her up to this?

She compresses her lips into a thin line as she takes a seat on the empty stool next to mine. Then she sets her books down, crosses her arms on top of the table, and lays her head down. "Man, I have a killer headache today," she murmurs with her eyes shut.

I'm not positive if she's speaking to me or thinking aloud, but I decide to give chatting with her a try. You know, test the waters and see if she detests me as much as she should.

"I have some painkillers in my bag," I offer, setting my pen down on the table.

Her eyes pop open, and she glowers at me. "Yeah, I think I'll decline the offer. I mean, for all I know, you'll try to slip me a roofie instead."

"Hey, I've never drugged anyone before," I protest, pressing my hand over my stung heart. "I may have done a lot of shitty things, but never something that awful."

"Maybe you wouldn't." She raises her head and flips her hair over her shoulder. "But your boss would, and probably has."

My gaze zips over to Queeny who is sitting at the front of the classroom. I used to sit beside her, but now Knox is occupying the chair. Her hand is resting on his shoulder, and her deathly bitch glare is targeted on me.

When our gazes crash, she bends forward and sucks on Knox's neck like an overly hungry vampire.

If only I were a vampire slayer with a stake in my hand and some killer ninja moves, I just might go up there and put an end to the neck suckage.

Such a nice thought.

"She's not my boss." I haul my gaze off Queeny and pick up my pen. "Not anymore, anyway."

Clarissa unzips her bag and rummages around for a pen. "Only because she fired you. If she hadn't, you'd still be working for her."

I press the pen to my list, deliberating whether or not to jot down Clarissa's name. "Maybe. Maybe not."

She gives me a wry look. "Yeah, right. You never would've just quit."

I shrug, doodling a witch's hat on the corner of the list. "Maybe you're right. But I did consider it quite a bit over the last year." I wonder if she'll put two and two together and realize that what I did to her played a part in my deliberation of resigning. "I probably should've. I probably should've done a lot of things differently." It's not an apology by any means, but I fully plan on getting there one day. I need to come up with something better than a few half-ass sentences to make up for what I've done, though.

She strangles the life out of the pen she's holding. "I don't know why you'd do that. You're the perfect sidekick to the evil villain."

Ouch. That stings. But I deserve it.

"That might've been true, but I don't want it to be true anymore."

She laughs hollowly. "So, what you're trying to say is, if she decides to take you back as her best friend, you won't return to the dark side? I have a really hard time believing that." She shoves up the sleeves of her maroon shirt as she glances around the room, noting everyone watching us. "People like you never change. It's not even programmed into your evil, malicious brains."

Double ouch.

Sure, I get why she's treating me so horribly, but after leaving me that shirt the other day, I thought—or maybe hoped—she held a drop of sympathy in her heart. Apparently not.

"Maybe you're right, but I really hope you're not." I dig her shirt out of my bag. "I think this belongs to you, right?"

"Yeah. So what?" She snatches the shirt from me and stuffs it into her bag.

"Thanks for leaving it there for me," I say quietly as the bell rings. "It saved me from walking home from school half-dressed."

"Don't say thanks to me," she whispers as Mr. Chester enters the room, announcing we're going to have a pop quiz and that the questions are on the board. "Maxon's the one who asked me to do it. If I had it my way, you would've walked home half-naked."

Maxon asked her to do it? Wow. Oh, wow. That guy is one step away from becoming my superhero.

"If you do anything to hurt him, I'll make sure you pay," Clarissa hisses while writing down the questions on the board.

_Crap. Did I just say my thoughts aloud?_

"I've seen the way you look at him when you think no one's looking," she whispers with her eyes on the board.

"No, I don't." I play stupid. Inside, my heart has turned into a cracked-out hummingbird.

_That makes two people who noticed your stalker tendencies, Ash. Just how many more know?_

"Don't worry; he's completely clueless about your pathetic little crush," she continues, disregarding my denial. "And it's for the better. Maxon's a sweet guy. The last thing he needs is for you to bring a bunch of ugly drama into his life."

I open my mouth to put her in her place, but the look she gives me causes me to zip my lips. She's waiting for me to act like Queeny's sidekick. For me to bring out bitch Ash.

Besides, what she said about Maxon... She's right. He doesn't need me bringing my crappiness into his life.

I focus on the board and spend the rest of class working on the quiz, and then the assignment. When I finish a little bit early, I work on analyzing my list.

At the top of the paper, I've written: _List of suspects who told Queeny I made out with her crush and who have been telling people I'm an easy lay._ Below the exaggeratedly long title is a very long list of names that basically consists of half the school.

"You might want to add Queeny's name to that," Clarissa tells me so suddenly that I startle and fling my pen through the air. It sails forward, pegging Tina in the back of the head.

She reels around, her hand darting to her bleach blonde hair, her gaze skimming the classroom.

"Who did that?" Her eyes zero in on me. "Ash, did you just throw something at me?"

I appear taken aback. "Why would I do that?"

"Because you're a _freak_." She shoots me a haughty look, a move she never would've dared pull when I was besties with the she-devil.

"Yeah, that makes sense." My voice gushes sarcasm. "Because I bet all the freaks sit in class and throw stuff at the back of your head all day. If that were the case, your head would be one giant goose egg." I angle my head to the side. "Although, that would explain a lot."

Clarissa starts to choke on a laugh, quickly biting down on her lip and redirecting her focus on the assignment.

Tina's eyes narrow into slits. "What's that supposed to mean?"

I shrug. "Maybe you should work on speaking freak. Then maybe you'll figure it out."

"Ha, like I'm that stupid." She flips her hair over her shoulder and elevates her chin. "No one chooses to be a freak. You become one when no one wants you." She faces forward and giggles with Beth.

Seconds later, the bell sounds and Mr. Chester dismisses class.

"I wish they'd banish giggling from school," Clarissa says as she gathers her stuff and stands. "The cheerleader, hyena laughing, anyway." She starts to follow the rest of our classmates flocking toward the doorway, but then abruptly hits the brakes and turns back around. "And I meant what I said about adding Queeny to your little list. I wouldn't put it past her to start a rumor about her own best friend."

I stand up from the stool and reach for my bag. "I don't know... I mean, she's done a lot of stuff, but why would she do that to me?"

She tosses a glance toward the front of the classroom where Knox and Queeny are full-on making out. "Maybe because she wanted something you had. Wouldn't be the first time she's ruined a girl's life to get a guy."

Realization punches me in the jugular. Is Clarissa right? Would Queeny have done to me what we did to Clarissa?

My stomach coils with thorny knots. _Yes. Yes, she would._

"Sucks being on the receiving end, doesn't it?" Clarissa says then hurries away, leaving me standing alone in the classroom.

Well, alone except for Queeny and Knox, who are fused at the lips, hands wandering all over each other.

Just lovely. Nothing like being the only one around to witness your ex-boyfriend and ex-BF putting in a 4.0 amount of effort to make a show of their relationship. To make matters worse, in order to get out of the classroom, I have to walk by them.

I dillydally for a few minutes, hoping they'll leave. And eventually, they do stumble toward the doorway... with their lips still locked.

"You're such a good kisser, Knox," Queeny moans loudly between kisses, cracking open her eyes to look at me. "And you're so hot."

He cups her ass in response. "You have such a nice ass."

Talk about the shallowest conversation I've ever heard.

Rolling my eyes, I zigzag past the tables and head toward the door.

Right as I near the doorway, Queeny presses Knox up against the doorjamb, blocking my way. Then she trails her fingers up and down his chest.

"You're so strong," she purrs, glancing at me. "I bet you work out."

I point at myself. "Are you talking to me? Or to him? Because it's really hard to tell at this point."

Knox whips his head in my direction. "Oh, shit. I didn't see you standing there." He massages the back of his neck then lowers his hand and gives me a hard look. "This must suck for you. I want to feel bad—I really do—but at the same time, I don't think I should, considering what you did to me."

"Actually, it's getting less and less sucky by the second." I flash him a sugary sweet smile before motioning at the doorway. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll let you guys continue on with your ridiculously boring dirty talk."

His eyes snap cold. "Well, at least she does dirty talk. With you, all I ever got was a thank you."

"Hey, I said that one time." I hold up a finger. "The first time we kissed. And only because you surprised me."

The hardness in his eyes reduces. "Ash, I didn't—"

"Please, just move out of my way so I can get the hell out of here," I cut him off, stepping toward the doorway.

Queeny moves in front of me, setting her hand on Knox's chest.

"Time for more kissing." She leans in with her lips puckered and her eyes shut, but Knox hesitates, his gaze skimming toward me.

"Um, maybe we should—"

"Queeny, Knox." Mr. Chester strolls up to us. "I hate to be the downer teacher, but you've both broken the school's PDA policy way too many times." He presents each of them with pink detention slips, which puts a big ol' smile on my face.

_Go, Mr. Chester. You rock!_

However, my celebration is short-lived when Knox sweet talks his way out of the afterschool detention slip and instead gets lunch detention—which is way shorter!—by reminding Mr. Chester that afterschool detention could affect his playing for Friday's game. Apparently, on top of wanting to be a writer, Mr. Chester also had dreams of being the star quarterback.

Queeny attempts to work her magic, too, but Mr. Chester seems more unimpressed by her excuse.

"I can't miss my hair appointment, Mr. C," she gripes, shoving the pink slip at him. "The salon has, like, a two-month waiting list."

"I'm sorry, but maybe you should've thought about that before you kissed your boyfriend during class." Apparently, Mr. Chester has never dreamed of being a spoiled brat who wants to get his hair dyed at an overly priced salon. "Detention starts in exactly fifteen minutes. Don't be late, or I'll have to write you up for tomorrow, too."

Queeny stomps into the hallway and shreds the pink slip to shreds. Knox pats her back in an attempt to soothe her, glancing around with discomfort as people stare at the scene she's making.

"I'm so going to get his ass fired for this," Queeny seethes, her face bright red. "And when I get done with him, that man will never work as a teacher again."

"Good luck with that." I walk backward down the hallway crammed with students eager to get the bleep out of high school hell for the day. "And good luck with detention. I hear it's where all the lowlifes and losers get sent." Completely untrue, but she doesn't know that. "And, who knows? Maybe they'll convert you to their uncool ways. They tried it with me once and look at where I am now."

She slumps against Knox for support. "Oh, shut up. I know you've never been to detention."

I slip the handle of my backpack over my shoulder. "I actually have. It was that time we got caught for ditching, and I let you put the blame on me."

"Yeah, well, you were stupid enough to do it, so..." She shrugs, grinning sweetly at me.

"Yeah, I was." I let the truth of my words sink in. "But not anymore. And honestly, I'm not that sad about it."

"You should be." She snags ahold of Knox's hand. "When I'm done with you, you'll more than regret stabbing me in the back." She tugs Knox with her as she marches down the hallway, shoving people out of her way. "And maybe, while I'm destroying you, I'll destroy your family, too."

"By doing what?" I pretend to be composed, yet I'm a fuming mess on the inside.

_No. There's no way she can follow through with that threat._

"By putting in a call to your brother's work and requesting that they do a random drug test." The grin she throws over her shoulder sends a chill down my spine. "I'm going to make you suffer, Ash, whether you like it or not."

Anger rushes through me in a violent wave, but I keep my feet planted on the floor, fighting back the urge to chase after her and knock her down. Because, whether I like it or not, Queeny has tons of videos and photos similar to the peeing on the tire incident. She also knows stuff about my family. Way too much stuff. It makes me regret every bad deed I've ever done. It makes me regret the last six years of my life and who I became in those six years.

What I wouldn't give to erase the last six years.

No, better yet, what I wouldn't give to erase the girl I was in those six years.

# Chapter Nine

One hour and a very long bus ride later, I'm in my bedroom, surrounded by torn up photos, piles of cut up designer clothes, and Joan Jett's "Bad Reputation" is cranked up to full max since Mom took Dad to a doctor's appointment _._ I have exactly one hour to finish the destruction of my past before I need to haul my behind into the kitchen to sort through herbs and crystals that reek as badly as a dead animal's carcass. The perfect punishment for me, for all my sins. Sins I'm reminded of as I rip up photos of Queeny and me; Queeny, Reina, Janie, and me; and even Knox and me.

"I must destroy all evil things." I do my best evil villain laugh as I tear up a photo of Knox and me at homecoming last year.

That night, he won prom king and Queeny was crowned queen. It didn't bother me at the time, but now I can't stop thinking about how cozy the two of them looked on the dance floor.

"Probably because they were screwing each other's brains." I shred another photo and another, continuing the madness until Lucky pops his head into my room.

His gaze dives to the pieces of photos and clothing covering my floor, and then he glances at me with his brow quirked. "So, you're destroying all the photos of you and Knox? But what's up with the clothes?"

"The clothes are Queeny's." I rip another picture to pieces. "And these are every photo I've ever taken over the last six years that include Queeny, Janie, Reina, and Knox."

"Okay." He seems lost, but he doesn't push for details. "As much as I hate to break up this 'get rid of the bitch and the dick' fest, I'm thinkin' it might be a good idea to take a break before the photos start fighting back." His eyes exaggeratedly widen. "Papercuts can be a real killer."

"I can't stop until they're all destroyed." I grunt as I attempt to rip a stack of photos at once. "Thanks for the advice, though. I'll make sure to watch out for papercuts." When Lucky doesn't leave right away, I drop the stack of photos. "Do you need help cooking dinner or something? Because I'm pretty sure you're capable of pouring cereal into a bowl all by yourself."

"Hey, you'd be surprised how hard that can be under the right circumstances, but I'm not here for help." He opens the door wider, revealing Maxon standing behind him in the hallway. "You have a visitor, and you'll be disappointed to know that I'm pretty sure he didn't bring his torch with him." He busts up laughing, giving Maxon a pat on the back as he heads down the hallway.

Maxon gives me a peculiar look. "What was that about?"

"Just ignore him." I push to my feet, brushing fragments of photos off my pants. "He smoked way too much today."

He raises his brows. "So, he's like Clove?"

"Yeah, I guess you could say that." I shift my weight, unsure what to say or why he's here. Not that I'm sad about it or anything. Still, it's a little bizarre. And after talking to Clarissa, I'm a bit hesitant, not only because she's right about me bringing ugly into his life, but because he quite possibly may know about my silly, girly crush on him

He lingers in the doorway, eyeballing the mess covering my floor. "Is everything okay?"

I kick some pieces of clothing and photos out of the way. "I'm just doing a little bit of renovating."

A crease forms at his brows. "What kind of renovating?"

I turn down the music. "The 'cleaning out your evil ex-boyfriend and ex-friends from your life' kind of renovating."

He wavers. "Is this because of what happened this morning at the gas station?"

"That and the last six years."

"Oh." He seems like he wants to say more but doesn't dare.

I wish he would. Wish he would tell me if he thinks I'm a nutjob for tearing up all my photos. Wish he would tell me where he was during school. Wish he would tell me if he saw that stupid video of me peeing on that girl's car.

I nudge photos and clothing aside with my foot to make a path into my room. "You can come in if you want. You don't have to stand in the doorway."

He casts an anxious glance down the hallway. "Are you sure? I don't want you to get in trouble for having a guy in your room."

"I've had a guy in my room before." I bite down on my lip nervously.

While I have had guys in my room before, I suddenly feel nervous, which is such a foreign feeling. I haven't been nervous around a guy since ninth grade. _So why start now?_

Burying my nerves, I tug on the sleeve of his shirt and pull him into my room. "Besides, my parents are gone. And Lucky's probably too busy having a love affair with the television to even notice."

He stumbles into my room and glances around at the paneled walls decorated with posters of bands I've never admitted I listen to. At least, up until this morning when I was in the car with him and Clove.

"Clove was right about you," he muses, assessing my record collection on the corner shelf. "You do listen to a lot of punk rock."

"Um, yeah, because it's good music." I sink down on the edge of my unmade bed. "Way better than the pop crap always playing on the radio."

"I completely agree with you." His gaze wanders to the space of bed beside me, and he sinks his teeth into his bottom lip.

I look over to see what he's looking at and nearly die of embarrassment. No! There's no way he could know what that's from. Could he?

"That's left over from a snack I had." I casually pick up the cheese stick wrapper then get up to put it in the trash, but at the very last second, I slip it underneath a binder beside the trash can, hoping he doesn't notice.

When I turn around, he's sitting on my bed and fiddling with my tarot cards.

"Clove said you know how to do this," he says, aligning the deck.

"Sort of." I sit down on the bed beside him and try not to take it too personally when he tenses as if he thinks I have cooties. "I'm not a professional or anything. I just like to mess around with them sometimes." I collect the stack of cards from him. "My mom owns this, like, herb/crystal/all natural store, but a lot of people come in claiming to have wiccan magic.

"When I was about fourteen or so, I was working at the register when an old lady came in wanting to buy some healing crystals to heal her daughter who was dying from cancer. She couldn't afford them, so she offered me the stack of cards in exchange. Said they were super powerful and would bring me good luck." I set the cards down on my lap and shuffle them. "I didn't have the heart to tell her the cards weren't worth the price of crystals, so I took the cards, gave her the crystals, and put my own money in the register. I never told my mom—I've never told anyone, I guess. Not just about what happened, but about how I like to mess around with the cards sometimes and pretend I can read my future."

I have no clue why I'm babbling his ear off. Maybe the stress I've been under has caused me to lose my sanity marbles. That doesn't explain why my nerves bubble when he shifts closer to me on the bed. Nope, I'm pretty sure that has to do with why I can't throw the cheese stick wrapper away and why I spy on him at night.

"Clove only knows I do this because I forgot to put them away when I was sitting at my desk," I continue my nervous babbling. "Queeny found out once when they fell out of my bag. She promised she wouldn't tell anyone, but I have a feeling one day I'm going to show up at school and everyone will accuse me of witchcraft."

"Well, at least they can't burn you at the stake anymore," Maxon says with a crack of a smile.

"I don't know about that." I tap the edge of the deck against the top of my leg. "Queeny can be pretty persuasive."

He rests back on his hands. "Yeah, I don't agree with you."

"So, you're saying you're immune to her charm?"

" _Charm_? What charm? All I've ever seen her do is boss people around and make them miserable."

"Bitchiness is part of her charm. Like how some people think they can hypnotize people with snakes—that's Queeny."

"Actually, I think it's the other way around—people think they can hypnotize snakes."

"Well, if that's true, then why aren't we tracking down these alleged snake hypnotizers? I bet they could give us some pointers on how to possess the mind of a viper."

His lips spread into a smile. The sight causes my stomach to turn into giddy butterflies.

"I'll look into it for you."

"Sounds good. Let me know what you find out." I mirror his smile. "Until then, I might know another way to put the viper's fangs back into that big, fat, gossiping mouth of hers."

His smile falters. "You think it's a good idea to go after her?"

I cut the deck of cards. "You haven't even heard how I'm going to do it. Maybe I have an awesome idea."

"Yeah, maybe, but..." He sits up straight. "It's never a good idea to tease a snake. It's snake 101."

"Oh, I'm not going to tease her. I'm going to put her in my place by proving to her that she was wrong and that I didn't hook up with Zane. I don't want people to think I'm that cruel, or that I screw around with guys like that."

He seals his lips together with skepticism, and my chest tightens. Does he think I did it, that I hooked up with Zane? I wouldn't blame him. The kind of person I portrayed myself to be seemed like the type of person who would do something like that. It still hurts to think that he sees me that way, that anyone sees me that way.

_Why did I do it? Why did I let myself get so far into this mess?_

"It's not true," I tell him with my head tipped down and my eyes on the deck of cards. "I know I haven't been the nicest person, but I'd never hook up with my best friend's crush. Or cheat on my boyfriend. Or hook up in general."

Silences encases us, and I peer up at him.

His cheeks are pink, and when our gazes collide, he looks away and stares at my door.

"I didn't think it was true," he assures me. "I'm just wondering how you plan on proving to Queeny that it wasn't."

I find his embarrassment absolutely adorable, which might make me twisted, but at least my twisted thoughts are my own. So, yeah, there's that...

"Well, Maxon," I say, crossing my legs. "I'm so glad you asked because I've been dying to tell someone my evil villain plan."

He looks at me with a hint of a smile. "Don't you mean your superhero plan, since Queeny's the evil villain."

"Nope. I'm not a superhero; therefore, I can't call my plan one."

"You're not an evil villain, though."

"You're wrong. And I think a lot of people would agree with me."

He shakes his head in all seriousness. "I think you're being too hard on yourself."

"And I think you're being too nice." Guilt ninja kicks me in the gut. "And you shouldn't be."

He rotates sideways, bringing his knee up onto the mattress. "Well, that's really for me to decide, isn't it? And from what I've seen, you aren't that bad. Were you nice to everyone? No. But you aren't like Queeny. You don't go out of your way to hurt people."

If only he knew _all_ of the horrible things I've done. If he did, he wouldn't be here, trying to convince me that I'm better than Queeny. I might even be worse. Queeny doesn't hide her evil bitch side. Me? I helped her ruin people's lives. I stood in her shadow and pretended I wasn't a snake.

"Before you make a decision whether or not to be nice to me, maybe you should remember how I've acted for the last six years and not the last three days." If I was a better person, I'd also confess all the evil stuff I've done over those last six years, stuff that affected his life. Apparently, I'm not a better person, though, because I don't say anything.

"Who said you've been acting any differently?" he teases with a grin.

I press my hand to my heart. "Ouch, that hurt. Who knew sweet, little cheese stick giving Maxon Harter could be so cruel?"

"Little?" he questions with his brow up.

"Well, you were in fifth grade."

"A lot has changed since fifth grade."

"Yeah, it has." I stare down at the cards. "You know, I never did thank you for sitting with me behind the dumpster after that whole stupid depantsing thing. That had to be gross—eating your lunch by a dumpster with the snotty-nosed loser of the school."

"You weren't a loser." His soft voice sends warm tingles all over my skin. "And it wasn't the first time I ate my lunch by a dumpster."

I lift my gaze to him, my guilt strangling me. "Why are you being so nice to me right now? And this morning? I don't deserve it at all. And Monday in Mr. Chester's classroom, you looked like you wanted to transport me to another dimension."

"Transport you to another dimension?" He smiles amusedly. "You know, I think Clove's right about you."

I don't know whether to smile or frown. "About what?"

"That you're secretly a nerd, and that you've secretly been one forever but, as he put it"—he makes air quotes—" 'you took the wrong path in life.' "

"I don't know about the nerd part, but I definitely think I took the wrong path in life. How Clove knows about this, though, is beyond me."

"Because he's a people watcher," he explains with a simple shrug.

I ravel a strand of hair around my finger, contemplating what he said. "Why has he been watching me?"

He fidgets with a leather band on his wrists. "Why not?"

"I don't know..." I shrug. "I'm awfully shallow and have very little substance. If he is watching me, he must be bored out of his mind."

"You're not as shallow as you want everyone to believe." He taps the deck of cards in my hand. "These prove that."

"I'm not that nice, either. And I think a lot of the stuff I've done over the years prove that."

"But you're trying to be different now, so that's all that matters, right?"

I eye him over with great curiosity, wondering why he's so dead set on being kind to me. "You know, you never answered my question about why you're being nice to me now when just this morning you seemed like you hated me. And why did you tell Clarissa to leave me that shirt?"

A flush spreads across his cheeks. "You found out about that?"

I nod. "Clarissa told me in science class today. She didn't explain to me why you did it."

"Because you didn't deserve to be... shirtless." He scratches the side of his neck, looking more embarrassed than I felt when I flashed the entire school "And I've never hated you, Ash. I'll admit, that day you were in Mr. Chester's classroom for lunch, I was thinking about a way to get you out of mine and my friends' space."

I keep my tone light, though my heart stings. "You probably should've made me leave the classroom. It could've been my penance for being so mean to you guys over the years."

"Why? It wouldn't have made anyone happier."

"I don't know about that. Kinslee sure seemed like she wanted me gone."

He waves me off. "Don't take that too personally. It wasn't really about you."

"Then what was it about?"

He blushes again, unable to make eye contact with me. "Just stuff."

My cute guy almighty, he needs to stop with the blushing before I lean over and kiss him.

Well, huh. The stuff you learn about yourself when you're actually being yourself. Who would've thought shy guys were my thing?

"Stuff you're going to tell me?" I ask, fluttering my eyelashes at him, which yes, I know is terrible, but I really want to find out why he keeps blushing so much!

I want to discover all his secrets and explore his science experiment world. Find out why I'm fascinated enough with it—with him—to spend every night perving it up at my window. I've wanted to since my family moved in next door to him, but I've been too scared to admit it. Scared Queeny would find out. Scared I would like the grass on the other side of the fence. Scared that I'd discover I was supposed to be on the other side of the fence all along. Scared that I'll never be able to get there because my past ruined my chance.

He rolls his tongue in his mouth, fighting back laughter. "Is that how you normally get your way with guys? By batting your eyelashes at them?"

Now I blush. "Maybe. I've never had any complaints before."

"I'm not complaining... I'm kind of flattered." He stares at the floor, his cheeks Hot Tamales red. "But I still can't tell you."

"You so sound like Clove. He said that, like, five times to me in the past few days."

"We've been friends for seven years, so I'm not surprised we sound alike."

I scrunch my nose. If that's how friendships work, then I guess I sound exactly like Queeny.

"You're not like her," he insists, as if reading my mind.

"You don't know me well enough to make that assumption. I mean, for all you know, I could be exactly like her and just don't show my true colors." The truth scalds my tongue.

"You're not like her." He scoots closer to me until his knee touches mine. "At least, you haven't always been... And you're not now, so..." He shrugs.

"It's only been three days," I point out. "That isn't enough time to make up for all the bad things I've done."

"Yeah, so then you continue making up for it."

"How exactly? I mean, how does a person make up for six years of being a bitch?"

"By being nice. By trying to undo your wrongs. By not punching Queeny, even when you really want to. And you've already done that, so there's one challenge down already."

"I'm not so sure about that." I rest back on my elbows. "In fact, that challenge may be a consistent obstacle that will torment me for the rest of the year."

He rotates around to look at me. "I'm sure she'll let off eventually."

I shake my head, staring up at the poster on my ceiling. "No, she won't. Trust me; I've been her friend for six years and have witnessed her wrath multiple times. She doesn't let go of grudges easily. In fact, I've never seen her let anything go."

He lies down beside me, propping himself up on his elbow. I try not to go all sugar high, living in Candyland crazy over us lying on my bed together. Granted, we were doing something else besides discussing Queeny in my fantasy.

"You make her sound so evil. And I know she is... but you were her friend." His brows knit. "You never saw her do anything nice?"

"No... Well, she did make the entire school stop calling me Asslynn, but she always held that over my head and acted like I owed her." And I stupidly paid her back over and over again by doing everything she asked me to do, even really bad things that hurt people. "Some of the things she's done... Some of the things I've helped her do..." Guilt chokes me as I peek over at him. "There's a lot of bad there."

He's watching me with an unreadable expression and, good golly of all jelly beans, I wish I could read minds, so I knew what he truly thought of me.

"Why do you think she's like that?" he asks.

"You know, I've thought about that a lot, and while I've never reached a final conclusion, I do have a few theories. But none of them are based on any factual evidence. Just guesses and speculation. One being that she's too spoiled, and the other being that she's pretty much a younger version of her mom."

His eyes light up, but he doesn't say anything.

"What?" I ask. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

He shakes his head, his eyes still sparkling. "No reason."

"There is a reason; otherwise, you wouldn't be looking at me like that."

"Maybe this is just how my face always looks."

"Ha, ha. I didn't know you were a comedian."

"Fine. I looked at you like that because you sounded so scientific... a lot like some of my friends." He watches me, as if measuring my reaction.

"Hmmm... Maybe I've been paying too much attention in science class. I should probably stop."

He shakes his head. "No, don't do that. It's... I..."

"Wait. Does Maxon Harter have a thing for science lingo? Is that, like, dirty talk for you?" I joke, amused by him being flustered.

His cheeks flame bright red. "No," he protests way too firmly. When I grin, he shakes his head, but the annoyance vanishes as a curious smile pulls at his lips. "Why do you keep doing that?"

I turn on my side, propping up on my elbow. "Doing what?"

"Use my full name."

"I don't know." _Because it's what I call you in my mind when I'm stalking you._ "I didn't realize I was doing it. Sorry if it bothers you."

"It doesn't bother me. I'm just curious. And you can keep calling me that if you want to." He stares down at his hand as he sketches his finger across the patterns of my blanket. "Although, most of my friends just call me Max."

"Friends," I say, hoping I don't sound like a bundle of nervous giggling girl. "Is that what we are?"

When he doesn't answer right away, I wonder if I've demolished the beautiful moment we were having by sounding too needy, but then he smiles at me.

"If you want, we can. I mean, it was the reason I came over here."

"Aw, you knocked on my front door to ask me to be your friend?" I tease, while inside my heart is thundering like a stampede of wild mustangs.

He wants to be my friend? After I called him names, after I blew him off, after I helped Queeny destroy their chance of getting into the science fair at Fareland College. But he doesn't know that. I need to tell him. Right now.

"Well, when you put it that way... I sound like an idiot. A childish idiot," he mumbles at the same time I open my mouth to spill out my darkest secret.

Like a coward, I let the opportunity fly, fly away, hoping it lands on some remote island where no one ever goes.

He rakes his fingers through his hair, leaving the strands askew. "Can we just forget I said that?"

I shake my head. "No way. I think it's cute."

He stares at me with doubt and a hint of embarrassment. "You think it's cute that I came over here to ask you to be my friend like we're in kindergarten or something?"

"What can I say"—I wink at him—"I like guys who go old school."

He blushes again, and I vow to myself to embarrass him at least once a day because it's literally the cutest and most entertaining thing I've ever seen.

He laughs softly. "For some reason, I have a feeling you're enjoying my discomfort."

"Now, why would I do something so mean?" My tone is all kicks and giggles until I realize how true my words would be if I was the Ash I was three days ago. "I'm not trying to be mean. I promise."

"I know you're not." He pauses then grows all squirmy. "So, will you? Be my friend, I mean." He shakes his head and mutters something incoherent under his breath. "And pretend I asked you in a way cooler way?"

I hesitate for a snap of a second, contemplating what being friends with him will mean for whatever social status I have left. Then I kick myself for allowing my thoughts to go there. Dammit! I'm really starting to understand the expression "old habits die hard."

"I want to," I admit. "But only if you really want to be mine. You don't need to feel sorry for me."

"I'm not doing this because I feel sorry for you."

"Not even a little bit?"

He chews on his bottom lip. "Well, maybe just a little bit, but it's not the entire reason."

I want to press him for more details, find out the entire reason he's being nice to me, but then I decide against it for now. Instead, I latch on to his offer like a loner girl in desperate need of friends. Or like a stalker girl who's, as Lucky puts it, "obsessed" with the guy who lives next door.

"I'd love to be friends with you, Maxon Harter... Max..." I shake my head. "Nope, Max doesn't feel right. I think I might just have to call you Maxon."

He chuckles, his eyes crinkling around the corners. "I guess that's okay."

"Good." I sit up in my bed and tuck my feet under my butt. "So, Maxon, what kind of benefits do I get as your new best friend?"

He sits up, too, crisscrossing his legs. "Honestly, there's not a lot of benefits. My friends and I don't do much except work on my projects and do our homework. Sometimes we throw parties, but I'm not sure you'll like them."

I try not to pout. "Why not?"

He shrugs, staring at my stack of tarot cards. "Because they're not the kind of parties you used to go to. No one gets drunk or does keg stands. Clove does make a mean M&M shot, though."

"What's an M&M shot?"

"Basically what it sounds like—M&M's in a shot glass."

I giggle. "Coming from a guy who accused you of stinking like sugar this morning."

"Yeah, I know. He's such a hypocrite, but you'll get used to it." He picks up the tarot cards. "So, as your friend, do I get the benefit of a reading?"

I take the cards from him. "I've never actually given someone else a reading. If you want, you can be my first."

He nods. "I've always been curious to see how accurate these things are."

"Well, don't get too excited," I tell him, shuffling the deck. "I don't even know if I'm doing it right."

"Did you just guess how to do it?"

"No, I watched a YouTube video." I align the cards then give the deck to him. "Now shuffle and cut the deck."

He does what I say then returns the cards to me. "Now what?"

"Now, we find out what's going on in your life, in your mind, and in your spiritual realm." I make a spooky laugh as I flip over the top card then line three below it. Then I nibble on my bottom lip as I study the cards, trying to figure out the meaning.

"How bad is it?" he asks, leaning forward to observe the cards.

"Well, you'll find major success in your life, but not without facing some obstacles," I tell him, though I'm probably getting some of my info wrong. "And the spirit realm is telling you that you'll find the great love of your life who you'll have a deep connection with, but this card right here"—I tap the middle card with my fingertip—"means either your lover will have dark secrets that could ruin your relationship, or it means you have a dark secret that will." I put on my best interrogation face. "So, Maxon, tell me, do you have any skeletons in your closet that no one else knows about?"

He shakes his head with an amused smile. "I'm about as boring as they come, so I guess it has to be her."

"Well, my advice would be to make any potential dates fill out a background check form and take a lie detector test," I say, totally joking.

Sort of.

"I'll keep that in mind if I ever go out on a date."

"You say that like you don't go out on many dates."

"That's because I don't." He scratches the corner of his eye, seeming embarrassed. "But I guess that's a good thing since my future girlfriend could be the next Dexter."

"I doubt she'll have that bad of a secret." I look down at the card. "At least, I don't think so."

"Your lack of confidence is making me nervous."

"Don't worry; I think you're too smart to fall for the next Dexter. And hey, at least Dexter wasn't a total evil serial killer. He only killed serial killers, so unless you're a murderer, you should be safe."

A somewhat stunned laugh slips past his lips. "This might be the strangest conversation I've ever had, which is saying a lot."

I start to laugh, and then scrunch my nose as my phone vibrates from my nightstand. Leaning over, I scoop it up, and then my heart slams into my chest.

**Queeny: Just sent out a lovely photo of you to everyone on my contact list. Next up, I think I'll phone your brother's work. You guys don't need his income, right?**

Another text pings through.

**Queeny: Payback's a bitch. XoXo**

I gulp down a shaky breath, my chest constricting so tightly I can barely breathe.

_No, Queeny, payback isn't a bitch. Regret is._

And I never want to feel it ever again.

# Chapter Ten

I'm not sure how long I sit on my bed in silence, but enough time passes that Maxon sounds uncomfortable when he finally speaks.

"Um... Ash? Is everything okay?"

I tear my eyes off the message, wiping my expression clean of worry. "Yeah, everything's great."

He searches my eyes. "No, it's not. You wouldn't look so upset if it was."

"It's nothing you need to worry about," I clarify, setting the phone down on the bed.

His gaze roams from my phone to me. "I know I don't need to worry about it, but maybe I can help."

"It's not that big of a deal." I swing my legs over the edge of the bed and lower my feet to the floor. "Queeny just threatened to call my brother's work and report that he should be drug tested. He's not a druggie or anything; he just likes to get stoned sometimes. Still, he could get in trouble if his work decides to drug test him." Maybe even get fired, and then the extra money he chips in for bills will be gone. Then my family will probably have to downgrade again, but I'm not certain how much further down we can go before having nothing left.

He scoots to the edge of the bed beside me. "Maybe you should tell your brother so he can have a heads up."

"I might have to do that. I just hate the idea of stressing him out—or anyone in my family. They've been through too much already." I sigh when he stares at me in puzzlement. "Do you know anything about why we're living here?"

Hesitating, he nods. "My mom's told me a little bit."

_What in the...?_

"How does your mom know?"

He shrugs. "She talks to your mom."

"Really?" This is news to me. "Since when?"

"Since you guys moved in here. Sometimes she comes over on Friday nights after my mom gets off work, and they drink wine and talk. I think it's her way of taking a few hours off from the stress. That's what I've heard her tell my mom, anyway."

How did I not know about this? Probably because I've been so self-involved.

_God, I suck._

"I like that she does," he continues. "My mom's been lonely since my dad took off, and she usually makes me stay home and watch soap operas and talk show reruns she DVR'd. But since your mom started coming over, I haven't had to do that so much."

"Oh." I swallow hard at his pained expression. "I didn't know your dad took off. When did that happen?"

He frees an unsteady breath while flexing his hand.

"Never mind," I say quickly, feeling like a jerk for asking. "That's none of my business."

"No, it's okay. It was a long time ago, back when I was in fifth grade. He just up and left one day while I was at school. My mom said it was because he had issues he needed to deal with, but I heard him arguing all the time about how he hated his life and being a dad and a husband." A loud breath puffs from his lips as he looks up at me. "Your question just threw me off. It's been a long time since someone asked me about him, or since I thought about him."

"I'm sorry for making you think about him. I shouldn't be so nosey. And I'm sorry your dad sucks. You deserve so much better than that." And it makes me really appreciate my own dad, who's done nothing but take care of Lucky and me, and how he shows us how much he loves us.

"It's fine. It was a long time ago, and I've kind of moved past it at this point," he says with a shrug. "And you weren't being nosey. Friends ask friends questions about their life, right?"

"I guess so." Queeny never did, though. Well, not out of concern.

No, I'm pretty sure the only time she poked her nose in my business was to get dirt on me. Dirt she collected, jarred up, and waited for the right moment to dump out, and I need to stop her before she does. This isn't just about stopping her anymore, though. It's about clearing up my name and getting the viper to stop trying to bite my family.

And I might have an idea how to do that.

I rest back on my hands and stretch out my legs. "So, totally off the subject, but how smart are you?"

"I don't know... Why? Are you looking for someone to do your homework? Because, as your friend, I can only offer to tutor you."

"Actually, I'm acing all of my classes." I grin at him sweetly. "Don't let this pretty face fool you." I tap the side of my head with my fingertips. "There isn't just air inside here."

His smile is so genuine my heart skips a beat. "I know that, Ash. I was just teasing you."

"See? Super smart." I gently bump his knee with mine. "But I really need to know just how smart you are."

"That all depends on why you're asking. I'm good with numbers and formulas and putting stuff together, but if you're asking me to write you a story or a poem, I'm not your guy."

"What about computers? How good are you with those?"

"I'm okay, but Clove's the computer genius of our group."

"Really?" I muse. "Huh, I wouldn't have guessed that about him. Honestly, he seems like... I don't know, a video game, music, movie junkie kind of guy."

"Well, he's that, too." He brushes strands of hair out of his eyes. "But he is smart, no matter how stupid he comes off when he's stoned."

I drum my finger against my lips. "So, what do you think my odds are of convincing him to do me a favor?"

"Honestly, I'm sure all you'd have to do is bat your eyelashes at him, and he'd do you whatever you asked."

"Really? After only talking to me for a few days?"

"I don't know why you sound so surprised. You're Ashlynn Wynterland." A flush creeps up across his face. "You could probably get any guy to do anything for you if you really wanted."

"That's not true," I tell him, feeling self-conscious. "Even three days ago, when I was... Well, when I was still friends with Queeny, not every guy fell at my feet _._ "

He appears unconvinced. "Still, you were pretty good at getting your way."

"Yeah, I was." I'm not sure if his words were meant as a compliment or not, but I feel very ashamed of every time I manipulated someone into doing something for me.

I wasn't always that way, not until Queeny and I became friends and she spent an entire day giving me a lesson on how to convince people that my way was the only way.

"All you have to do is bat your eyelashes and flirt a little bit, and guys will do whatever you want," she told me as we sat at the edge of the football field, watching the game.

"That sounds manipulative," I said. "And I doubt all guys will fall for that."

"You don't think so?" A challenge gleamed in her eyes as she rose to her feet. "Fine, I'll prove it to you."

I opened my mouth to retract my statement, hating when she proved things because usually someone got emotionally hurt. But she walked away before I could say anything, her gaze zeroed in on the water boy standing on the sidelines.

Fifteen minutes later, she had convinced him to ditch the game and let her drive his new BMW, even though she didn't even have her learner's permit. And ten minutes into the drive, she crashed the car into a stop sign.

The guy took the fall completely, too.

Regardless of what Queeny says, some guys have wanted nothing to do with her. Maxon and Clove being two of them, which is why Queeny has gone out of her way to try to make their lives miserable, tormenting them with nicknames, spreading rumors, and sabotaging their projects. All because they wouldn't do what she wanted.

_I don't want to be like her anymore. I wish I never wanted to be like her at all._

"You know what," I announce, squaring my shoulders. "I'm going to ask Clove nicely for a favor without batting my eyelashes or using any other tricks Queeny taught me. And if he says no, I'll accept his answer without pressuring him."

Maxon lifts his brows. "Good luck with that."

I lightly bump my shoulder into his. "What? You don't think I can do it?"

He gives me a look like I'm being silly and naive. "I think you'll try to do it, and you'll think you succeeded, but you'll end up doing it, anyway."

I pout. "Am I really that awful?"

He hastily shakes his head. "I don't think you get what I'm saying... Or maybe I'm not explaining it right." He yanks his fingers through his hair, letting out a nervous exhale. "Okay, so here's the thing... You have this sort of way about you, like this buzzing, bright energy that I don't think you mean to give off, but you do, and it's really hard not to want to be a part of. _Or_ say no to."

I have no idea how to react to what he said, if I should be happy or depressed.

"You're making me sound like one of those bug zappers that lure moths in, and then zaps them dead."

"That's not what I'm saying at all." He straightens his shoulders, turning toward me, his knee pressing into the side of my leg. "Okay, so you're like a butterfly... Like a blue morpho, which is like this really rare butterfly that attracts collectors and artists because they're really beautiful... and rare and draw in people with their beauty and rarity..." He looks away, rolling his eyes at himself. "Okay, now I'm just rambling."

I give him a reassuring smile. "It's okay. I like your ramblings."

"You might think so," he grumbles, "but I know a lot of people who disagree with you."

"Well, screw those people. They're obviously not cool." I reach for my phone to type in the name of the butterfly he mentioned. When photos pop up, I can't help grinning like a dork. "It's really pretty." I peer up and find him watching me intensely. "The butterfly you mentioned"—I show him the screen—"it's pretty. Have you ever seen one in real life?"

He shakes his head. "They mostly live in the rainforest."

"That's such a bummer." I stare at the photo on my screen. "I can see why artists would want to paint them."

"Yeah, I know." His gaze lingers on me for a beat or two longer. He seems peculiarly perplexed about something. Then he rubs his lips together with confliction in his eyes. "Ash, do you ever think—"

My bedroom door swings open, and my mom sticks her head inside.

"Ash, I thought you were going to help me with my inventory..." Her eyes enlarge at the mess on the floor. "What in the hell...?" Surprise flickers across her expression but dims when her gaze finds Maxon. "Maxon? Well, this is a nice surprise." A huge smile takes over her face. "A really, really nice surprise."

I have no clue what she's thinking, but I'm guessing she's assuming he's my boyfriend. What's surprising is how positively thrilled she seems about it, even after she caught me in my room with him and with the door shut. Whenever that happened with Knox, she got mad and told him to go home.

"Good. That's what I was aiming for," I joke, gesturing exaggeratedly at Maxon. "Surprise, Mom. Happy birthday, seven months early."

"Oh, honey, you have no idea." She backs out of the room with a goofy smile on her face. "I'll get started on the inventory. You two kids have fun." Then she leaves, closing the door behind her.

I gape at Maxon. "Wow, she closed the door. She must really like you."

He shrugs with a sheepish smile. "What can I say? I know how to win over middle-aged women."

I eye him over suspiciously. "And how exactly do you do that?"

"By opening their wine bottles." He rises to his feet, stretching his arms above his head. "You'd be surprised how much the two of them struggle with the corkscrew by the time they get to the second bottle."

I try not to stare as his shirt rides up. It should be easy since I've seen his abs before, many, many times, but I do sneak a peek or two, or four, or seven. Thankfully, he doesn't notice. At least, I hope he doesn't.

"I should get going," he says, lowering his arms to his sides. "My mom will be home soon, and I need to get dinner started."

My lips part in shock as I push to my feet. "You cook?"

He nods. "Sometimes."

"Me, too," I say, opening my bedroom door for him. "But I can't do anything fancy. Frozen pizzas, macaroni—anything that comes in a box, really."

"You should come over and eat at my house sometime," he tells me, stepping out into the hallway.

"Why?" I start to get excited. "Can you fancy cook?"

He nods, backing down the hallway. "But that's not even the best part."

I follow him into the kitchen. "What's the best part, then?"

He crosses the kitchen and opens the front door. "I guess you'll just have to come over and find out."

I point a finger at him, ignoring the creepy weirdo smiling at us from near the stove—aka my mom. "I'm intrigued, Maxon, and I'll for sure be coming over. It's your fault if you can't get me to leave. I'm like a dog when it comes to good food, and once you feed me, you can never get rid of me."

"Sounds good to me." He steps outside onto the porch. "See you tomorrow, Ash." He leans back in and smiles at my mom. "And see you on Friday, Mrs. Wynterland."

She waves giddily at him, totally smitten. "Absolutely."

When he closes the door, I spin toward her with my arms crossed. "If you want, I can give you his number." Then I realize I don't even have his number, and I never asked him why he wasn't at school today!

_God! Am I that self-absorbed?_

My mom gives me an unamused look. "That's not funny, Ashlynn."

I cross the kitchen and pick up a box from off the counter. "No, what's funny is how excited you got when you saw him in my bedroom." I set the box down on the floor and sit down beside her. "Whenever Knox and I were in my room with the door shut, you freaked out."

She skims over the list in her hand. "That's because I had to worry about you and Knox being in a bedroom alone."

I tear a strip of tape off the top of the box. "And you don't worry about Maxon and me being in a bedroom alone?"

She shakes her head. "Maxon's a good guy."

"So, you're saying Knox isn't a good guy?" Why am I asking her this? He isn't. I know this.

She chews on the end of a pen. "I'm not saying he's a terrible guy. He just... I don't know. Some of the stuff he said never sat well with me."

"Yeah, you're probably right." Not wanting to talk about Knox anymore, I change the subject. "You should know, though, that Maxon and I aren't dating. We're just friends."

"Okay." She sounds too doubtful.

"I'm being serious." I remove a couple of bags of herbs from the box, the smell making me gag. "We've been friends for, like, a day. And he doesn't see me that way."

"Okay." Again, she seems disbelieving.

"If you knew our history, you'd believe me," I try to convince her again.

"Okay." She jots something down on the list.

I grow frustrated. "Stop doing that."

She peers up at me. "Stop doing what?"

I set the bags of herbs down on the floor. "Saying okay."

"Fine." She directs her attention back to the list, leaving me to stew in the maddening silence.

"Why do you sound like you don't believe me?" Why can't I just let this go? "And why would you think that when you think I'm dating Knox? You think I'd have two boyfriends?"

"No." A ghost of a smile touches her lips. "I do believe you, but that doesn't mean that I can't hope."

"Hope for what?"

"That maybe this Maxon friendship thing will work out and become more."

"You mean, I'll get new friends and a new boyfriend?"

She nods, tucking the pen behind her ear. "I'm sorry if that makes you mad, but I've never liked your friends very much. Or Knox. I've always kind of wished that maybe you'd find some new friends, and maybe a good boyfriend who treated you better and who didn't make you act so different from the girl who spends time in her room, reading and listening to her oldies music."

"They never made me act differently—I chose to." I reach into the box, avoiding eye contact with her. "And they don't treat me that badly." What a lie. I can't tell her the truth, though.

"Then why did you look so upset this morning?" Her tone is accusing. When I don't answer, she sighs. "Even though you refuse to tell me what's wrong, I know something's going on with you. And I'm guessing it has to do with Queeny since all of the photos of you and her and all of her clothes are hacked up to pieces in your bedroom." She puts the list down on top of the box and grabs the pen to jot a note down. "Don't worry; I won't ask you about it. Or ask why you're hanging out with Maxon and not your boyfriend. Or why you're dressing differently. I won't ask you those things, but just know that when you're ready to talk about whatever you're going through, I'm here to listen."

Damn my mom and her reverse psychology crap. Now I want to confess everything to her. I can't worry her like that, though. No, I need to take care of my problems on my own. That doesn't mean I can't tell her something. Perhaps something that will alleviate some of her stress.

"Knox and I broke up," I divulge as I pile more bags of herbs onto the floor.

She looks up from her list with only a hint of surprise. "When did this happen?"

"A couple of days ago." I search her eyes and frown. "You don't seem that shocked."

"That's because I'm not." She places the list and pen aside then stands up to get a large box off the countertop. "If you were dating Knox, I doubt you'd be sitting in your room with Maxon and with the door shut."

"We were just talking."

"I know that."

"Then why would it matter if I was still dating Knox?"

She grunts as she picks up the box. "It wouldn't matter to me, but Knox seems like he'd get upset." She crouches down and drops the box onto the floor. "Also—and please don't take this the wrong way—but if you were dating Knox, _you_ wouldn't have been in your room with Maxon."

I force down the lump wedged in my throat as I reach for the list she put on the floor. "Because I'm a snob?"

She shakes her head. "You're not a snob, sweetie. Not at heart, anyway."

She's attempting to make me feel better without having to lie.

I feel like shit.

_Even my mom thinks I'm terrible._

"Well, I'm working on fixing that." I push to my feet. "I need to go talk to Lucky. I'll be right back."

I quickly leave the kitchen and rush down the hallway before she tries to play a game of twenty questions with me. When I reach my brother's door, I summon a deep breath and knock. After half a second goes by and he doesn't answer, I rap my knuckles on the door again, a little harder. I hear a bang from the other side, and then some cursing, followed by a giggle. Realizing he isn't in there alone, I start to back away, but the door opens before I get very far.

"What's up?" he asks, sounding breathless. His hair is also ruffled, and his shirt is on inside out.

I slant to the side and peer into his room. Gabby is sitting on his bed, wearing the shirt she told me she was wearing when my brother first kissed her, and the textbook she's holding is upside down. She waves at me and offers a tentative smile, her cheeks flushing.

I try not to get grossed out by what I think they were doing, but... _Ew_.

"You know what? I think I'll come back later."

"I have to leave for work in fifteen minutes, and then I'm going out with Gabby later." My brother leans against the doorjamb. "So, if you want to talk to me, now's the time to do it."

I release a deafening exhale. "Fine... I wanted to give you a heads up that your boss might make you take a drug test."

He gapes me, confounded. "Why the hell would he do that?"

"Um..." Suddenly, everything spills out of me, starting with the party all the way up to when Queeny texted me while I was with Maxon. When I'm done, my shoulders feel a bit lighter, but then I note the worry filling his eyes. "I'm sorry, Lucky. I really am. But I needed to let you know, so maybe you won't be blindsided by your boss."

Laughter bursts from his lips. "I don't give a shit about that."

_How can he think this is funny!_

"But what if you lose your job?"

"I won't."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because I get high with my boss sometimes," he replies matter-of-factly. "You know, Queeny's kind of an idiot if she thinks some sketchy, anonymous call is going to get me in trouble with my boss, who I've been friends with since I was sixteen."

"Yeah, I'm starting to realize how dumb she is, too," I admit, freeing a trapped breath I wasn't even aware I was holding. "You're really not going to get in trouble?"

"Nah. My boss is a cool guy." He assesses me with concern. "I'm worried about you, though."

"I'll be fine." I fiddle with a hole in the hem of my shirt. "Just as long as she doesn't do anything to you or Mom or Dad."

I see his concern amplify. "Ash, you can't let her bully you like this. And the rumors she's spreading around school... It's not right."

"They're not all rumors," I admit shamefully. "Not the part about me hooking up with that stupid guy... but some of the other stuff she's saying isn't a lie."

"It doesn't make what she's doing okay," he says, straightening his stance. "And I think you should consider telling Mom."

"Why? She can't do anything about it. Other than worry. And she doesn't need to worry about more stuff."

"Yeah, maybe." He gives an elongated pause. "Promise me that you'll think about telling Mom, and that you'll come and tell me if Queeny tries to do anything else. I don't want you trying to deal with this alone."

"I can do that." But I probably won't.

When I turn to leave, Gabby whispers something from across the room.

"Wait, Ash?" Lucky calls out.

I pause, turning back around. "Yeah?"

He looks back at Gabby then at me. "You want to hang out with us tonight? We're probably going to a movie and bowling or something."

"Is this a pity invite?" Wow, I must look pretty pathetic if my brother is inviting me on his date.

"Yes—" He winces as a paperback book smacks against his back. "I mean, no, not at all." He throws an exaggerated smile back at Gabby. "See? I'm being nice. No need to throw books, sweetheart."

"Don't you sweetheart me." She stands up from the bed and joins him in the doorway. "Ash, we'd love it if you came and hung out with us tonight."

I push past feeling pathetic and offer her a smile. "Thanks for the offer, but I have a ton of homework to do."

"How about Saturday night, then?" she asks, putting her hand on Lucky's shoulder. "We're going to this party my cousin's throwing."

"We are?" Lucky grimaces. "Why didn't I get the memo so I could start thinking of excuses early?"

She pokes him in the side. "Oh, will you stop trying to act like a grump? You're going, and you'll have fun."

"Yes, boss," he jokes then tries to dazzle her with a charming smile.

She stands on her tiptoes and gives him a peck on the cheek. "I love it when you pretend to be grumpy."

He rolls his eyes, but a goofy, lovestruck grin rises on his face. "Whatever. Just don't expect me to dance while we're at the party."

The two of them are so gooey sweet they're giving me a toothache. Knox and I were never like that. Ever. Sure, we kissed, but sometimes I felt it was more for show or to try to get to third base.

"Oh, you will dance, and you'll love it." She sweetens him over with a grin before turning back to me. "So, you'll come, right?"

"Um..." I glance at Lucky.

He half-shrugs. "Do whatever you want."

Looking back at Gabby, I open my mouth to say thanks, but that I'm not really up for any parties anytime soon, except she seems so eager for me to say I'll go. And after she gave me those clothes...

"Um, sure." I force a smile. "Yeah. A party sounds fun."

"Yay!" She claps and bounces up and down on her toes. "I've been wanting us to hang out more."

I want to ask her why, since I've been such a bitch, but I aim for a nicer response. "Me, too."

My brother seems kind of shocked yet content enough with my answer, so I guess I did something right.

After we make plans for what time we'll leave Saturday night, I return to the kitchen where I spend the next couple of hours helping my mom go through her inventory. By the time I make it to my room, I'm exhausted and ready to go to sleep.

Before I climb into bed, I peek out my window and over at Maxon's trailer. His bedroom curtain is drawn shut after months of being open. I don't know what that means, but my heart sinks a bit. Then any ounce of disappointment I feel over no longer being able to be a creeper dissipates as my phone dings.

Letting out a tired sigh, I roll over and pick up my phone from off my nightstand.

My exhaustion turns into mad confusion when I see the photo Queeny sent me.

A photo of me kissing Zane.

# Chapter Eleven

I spend most of the night tossing and turning, barely getting a wink of sleep. I can't get that photo out of my mind. Obviously, it's photoshopped since I didn't kiss Zane. In fact, if someone were to observe the photo close enough, they'd realize that. However, people tend to instantly believe juicy gossip and rarely give a moment to wonder if it's really true.

Another question zinging through my thoughts is: who made the photo? The same person who started the kissing rumor? Or did Queeny do it herself to torment me? My bet is probably Queeny, since I've seen her do this before. And if she shows the photo to everyone, they will all want to side with her.

Needless to say, I'm not too stoked about going to school, but another absence isn't an option, either, so when my alarm goes off, I drag my ass out of bed. Then I throw on a black T-shirt and a pair of shorts with fishnets, tie a plaid jacket around my waist, and top the look off with velvet red boots, matching lipstick, and kohl eyeliner.

When I look in the mirror, I hardly recognize the girl with big eyes and long brown hair staring back at me. And I'm glad. Maybe the disguise will keep me incognito all day.

_If only._

Since my mom works early on Thursdays and Lucky sleeps in late, I check on my dad before I head off to school. Surprisingly, he's awake.

"Hey, pumpkin," he mumbles from his bed when I crack open his bedroom door.

"Hey, you're awake." Well, sort of. His eyes are half-open, he looks pale, and the circles under his eyes are dark like bruises.

"A little bit," he replies through a yawn. "A little bit of a warning; I just took my pills, so if I fall asleep while we're talking, I apologize."

"No worries." I enter his room and walk up to his bedside. "How are you feeling?"

"Okay." He offers me a weary smile. "What I'd really like to hear about is how you're doing. These days, I barely get to talk about anything else but my pain level."

"I'm doing great." I wish it were the truth because I hate lying to him.

While my dad and I haven't been besties or anything, we have a good father/daughter relationship, and I rarely lie to him, but I do omit certain details about my life to keep from disappointing him. For example, he doesn't know about the parties I've gone to or that I've gotten puking drunk a couple of times.

"Good. That's good." He wiggles around in the bed, attempting to get comfortable. With his leg propped up on pillows, he can't quite get there. "Anything new I should know about?"

_Yes, Dad, there's a ton. I can't tell you most of it, though, and I really don't want to._

"Well, Knox and I broke up."

"Oh." He frowns, but I can tell he's on the brink of smiling. "I'm so sorry, pumpkin."

"It's okay." At least one good thing came out of the breakup—it got my dad to nearly smile, something he hasn't done since the accident. "I'm actually not that upset." Which is true. After everything that's happened, just thinking of the time I spent with Knox makes me feel stupid and sort of sick to my stomach. "I don't think we were really right for each other."

"I know, but still... breaking up is always hard." He reaches for a cup of water on the nightstand beside his bed. "Honestly, I never thought he treated you right. Every time I saw you with him, he always seemed more concerned with his phone than you. If a guy really loves a girl, he will pay attention to them."

I smile. "Well, you must really love Mom, then."

"I do." His face suddenly contorts in pain. "Ash, do you mind getting the ice pack from the freezer?"

I nod then hurry to get the icepack. By the time I return, he's on the verge of falling asleep, so I position it on his knee then quietly leave the room.

Standing in the living room, I stare at the front door. While Clove did mention me riding with them to school, no plans were ever finalized, so I'm not sure if they're planning on me riding with them or not.

"Since when did you become some silly, unsure girl, Ash?" I murmur after staring at the closed door for a ridiculous amount of time.

Summoning a breath, I open the door and step underneath the cloudy morning sky with every intention of heading over to Maxon's trailer. But Clove's car isn't in his driveway, so the only options are to sit on the stairs and wait, knock on Maxon's door, or hightail my butt to the bus stop.

"What is wrong with me today?" I lollygag at the top of the stairs. "Since when do I get so nervous?"

_Since you lost all of your friends and have to start over._

I hop off the steps and hike for the road, figuring I'll take the bus this morning. Then, at school, I'll double-check with Maxon and Clove to make sure they're okay with giving me a ride.

"Ash? Where are you going?"

I spin around, my heart leaping up to my throat. Then my racing pulse settles at the sight of Maxon standing in his driveway with a box beside his feet.

He's wearing a short-sleeved, grey, button-down shirt with black stitching; a thin black tie; black jeans; and matching boots; along with an array of leather bands. I'd be a total liar if I didn't admit how good he looks. Like, really, I-want-to-be-the-girlfriend-of-a-science-guy good.

I hitch my thumb over my shoulder toward the end of the dirt road. "I was heading to the bus stop."

He walks down the driveway toward me with his hands stuffed in his pockets, his gaze skimming my outfit. "I thought you were riding with us?"

"I wasn't sure if you guys were planning on giving me a ride today. I thought about texting you and asking, but I don't have your number."

"You could've knocked on my door." A teasing smile dances at his lips. "I mean, I don't live that far away."

"Yeah, I know." I feel so silly now.

"Here, give me your number," he says, retrieving his phone from his pocket.

I prattle off my number, and he punches the digits into his phone. Then he texts me so I'll have his. As I'm opening my messages to save his number in my contacts, I sigh at the reminder of the photo Queeny sent me last night.

"Is everything okay?" Maxon asks, slipping his phone into his back pocket. "You suddenly seem... I don't know, upset."

"Yeah... No... Maybe." I frown. "Honestly, I'm not sure."

"You know, if something is bothering you and you tell me, I might be able to help." His smile makes my stomach do a triple backflip. "I've been told before that I'm good at problem solving."

I could do that. So far, talking to him has helped. But do I deserve his help?

_Nope. Nope. Nope_.

I open my mouth to tell him I'm okay, when I end up blurting out the truth. "Queeny messaged me this photo last night of me kissing Zane."

"But I thought you didn't?"

"I didn't. The photo was totally photoshopped." I show him the picture.

He shakes his head. "That's probably one of the worst Photoshop jobs I've ever seen."

"Queeny's a ditz with computers."

"I'd say so."

"Still..." I put the phone back into my pocket. "I'm not sure everyone else will look past what they want to see."

"And you think they want to see you kissing Zane?" he asks in confusion.

"Not really so much me kissing Zane, but me screwing over Queeny," I explain. "It makes for good gossip. And seeing Queeny tear me to shreds is just an added bonus."

"You make it sound like the entire school hates you."

"They probably do."

He pauses. "I think you're wrong."

I smile sadly. "That's because you're too nice."

"I'm not that nice." He steps closer to me. "I've done some mean things before that I'm not proud of."

I mentally roll my eyes. "Yeah, right. That's like Elmo being mean."

He slants back, his brows springing upward. "You're comparing me to _Elmo_?"

"What?" I bat my eyelashes at him innocently. "He's pretty cool."

"He's a _puppet_."

"Yeah, so?"

His eyes narrow. "He doesn't even have a brain."

I pat his head. "Obviously you have a brain. But you are kind of sweet and cute, like a cuddly stuffed animal who talks in a squeaky voice."

"I don't have a squeaky voice."

"No, but your voice is definitely cute."

"I don't find this conversation very amusing," he says flatly, yet he's on the verge of grinning.

"Why not? I just called you cute and sweet; what's so bad about that?" I dazzle him with my most charming smile. "You know what? You're right. I do feel better now that I've talked to you."

"I'm glad giving me a complex makes you feel better." He pretends to grimace. "Now every time I bounce around and sing, I'm going to worry whether or not I look like a fuzzy puppet with way too much energy."

A giggle spills from my lips. "I'm sure you look lovely when you dance and sing."

"I guess you'll never find out since I'll spend the rest of my life feeling too self-conscious to dance or sing." His smile shines through.

I return his smile. "You know I was just kidding, right? I don't think you look or act like Elmo."

He dramatically crosses his arms and looks away, feigning hurt. "I don't believe you."

"I'm sorry. What can I do to make you believe me?"

"I don't think there's anything you can do."

"No, there has to be a way. And I think I might have an idea." I place my hands on his shoulders, and he tenses under my hands. "Maxon, I'm so sorry for telling you that you look like a bouncy, squeaky puppet. I didn't really mean it. Please forgive me."

His gaze briefly flicks to my lips. "Fine, I forgive you. But next time, please compare me to a cooler character."

I wrestle back a giggle. "Like SpongeBob?"

"Then that must make you Squidward."

"You so did not just go there."

"Oh, I so did." He grins wickedly. "So, if I were you, I'd think of someone better."

"Fine." I tap my finger against my lip. "How about the Mad Hatter?"

"And that would make you Alice?"

I lower my hands from his shoulders. "That wouldn't be so bad. I've always wanted to go to Wonderland."

"Really?" Excitement gleams in his eyes. "I could maybe make that happen for you... maybe."

"Because you invented some sort of machine that can transport people into stories?" I tease lightly, just kidding. Well, mostly.

"No. I know of a Wonderland-themed party happening on Saturday. I'm not sure if I'm allowed to bring a guest or not, but maybe I could look into it." He eyes me over with intrigue. "Why does it seem like you might actually believe I invented a storybook transporting machine?"

"Because you've invented a lot of strange looking stuff," I say without too much forethought.

He carries my gaze. "Oh, yeah, and how do you know that?"

_Face palm_. Did I seriously just admit out loud that I spy on him? Because that's pretty much the only time I've seen his inventions.

"I've seen your stuff in class." Not totally a lie, I guess. I did see his stuff in class one time.

Before he can say anything, Clove's car turns up the dirt road.

Yes! Saved by the beast car.

"Oh, look, there's Clove." I watch the car zoom up the road, struggling to ignore Maxon's gaze boring into the side of my head. But it's all I notice, and my cheeks glow like dopey fireflies.

Clove doesn't slow the car down until he's a few feet away from the driveway, then he slams on the brakes, kicking up a large cloud of dust into our faces.

"Great." Maxon coughs, waving his hand in front of his face. "He's in one of his moods."

"A bad mood?" I ask, fanning the dirt away.

He turns around to pick up the box in his driveway. "Nope, quite the opposite."

"Like a super good mood?" I ask.

Before he can answer, Clove hops out of his car.

"Well, hello, my lovely taxi riders," Clove greets us as he stretches his arms above his head. He's wearing a plaid shirt with the sleeves rolled up, dark jeans, and Converse sneakers that have a few paint droplets on the tips. "What a fine morning we're having, isn't it?"

I peer up at the cloudy sky. "Um... Sure."

He aims a finger at me. "That didn't sound very convincing."

I clear my throat then jump up and down while clapping my hands. "What a fantastic morning! It's so great I'm going to do this crazy and silly cheer just to prove it." I stop jumping and smile at him. "There? Was that better?"

He stares at me, stunned. Then he grins. "I like you. I like you a lot." He turns to Maxon with his hands clasped in front of him. "Max, please say we can keep her. Pretty, pretty please."

"Hey, who said I wanted to be kept?"

"You're saying you don't?"

I give a second of thought before shaking my head. "No, that's not what I'm saying."

"Well, then." He teases me with a knowing smile then looks at Maxon. "So, can we keep her or what?"

I glance at Maxon. "So, you're the boss, huh?"

"Apparently." He passes by us, carrying the box toward the car. "At least, according to Bouncy McGee over here."

"Don't pretend you didn't declare your leadership when we were in the fifth grade," Clove says with an eye roll.

"Did he really do that?" I ask Clove as Maxon pops the trunk.

Clove nods. "He stood in front of our group and gave a huge speech about how he should be the leader of our science group. Then he made us read through a ten-page PowerPoint presentation that was somehow supposed to prove he was right for the job, when really it just made me hate PowerPoint presentations."

I giggle. "You guys are silly."

"Do you mean we're silly, like ha, ha? Or silly like..." He rotates his finger around his temple, going cross-eyed.

I bust up laughing, nearly peeing in my pants, and he laughs, too, elatedly.

"I mean silly in a good way," I say after my laughter and bladder settle down.

He pretends to wipe sweat from his brow. "Good, because I'd be devastated if you thought I was some silly, goofy dummy."

"Actually, I heard you're quite the opposite," I tell him as we hike down the driveway to his car. "When it comes to computers, anyway."

"Some might say so." He gives me a sidelong glance. "Who told you that?"

I point at the passenger side of the car where Maxon is waiting for us. "He might have mentioned it."

"Hmmm..." Clove studies me with amusement. "And why did Maxon tell you this?"

"Because I asked him which one of you is computer smart."

"And why would you want to know that?"

Why do I get the feeling he already knows?

"Because I have a favor to ask."

He crosses his arms. "And what would the favor be?"

I glance at Maxon, recalling what he said about me batting my eyelashes to get my way. He's fighting back a smile, as if he knows exactly what I'm thinking.

To prove him wrong, I hold my eyelids open, probably making myself look like a possessed doll, but whatever. "I need you to hack into one of Queeny's social media accounts," I tell Clove.

He blinks, his arms falling to his sides. "Holy shit, are you being serious?"

I reluctantly nod, worried I crossed a line. "Yeah... But you don't have to. I know it's a really big favor—"

"A big favor?" He gapes at me with his hands spanned at his sides. "Do you know how illegal that is?"

"I'm sorry," I sputter out because, holy angry trolls, he seems mad. "I shouldn't have asked—"

He hunches over, howling with laughter. "Ash, I'm just messing with you." He dabs tears from his eyes. "Oh, my God, you should've seen your face. It was classic."

"That's not funny." But I'm having a difficult time not laughing, too. "I seriously thought you were mad at me."

"I'm sorry." He gives my arm a gentle pat. "To make up for it, I'll hack into her account."

"That sounds like a fair enough apology." I struggle to keep a straight face.

He grins then strolls toward the driver's side of his car, chuckling under his breath.

I head to the passenger side where Maxon is standing with the door open, an amused and very sexy half-smile on his face.

"Told you he was in one of his moods," he tells me as I approach.

"Yes, you did." I stop beside him and tilt my head up to meet his cloudy grey eyes. "So does this mean he's going to joke and giggle about everything?"

He nods, resting his elbow on top of the open door. "And it'll get worse throughout the day, so make sure you keep your guard up."

Will I even see them throughout the day?

That thought makes my good mood bubble pop.

Trying not to frown, I lower my head and slide across the leather seat beside Clove. Maxon follows, shutting the door. Then Clove drives off down the road while I sit quietly, twiddling my thumbs and trying to figure out the best way to ask if we're going to hang out at school.

_God, I'm so lame. When did I get so silly about asking people to hang out with me? Jesus, Ash, you're acting like you're eleven years old again._

Maxon unexpectedly places his hand over mine. "Are you nervous about the photo?"

I blink up at him, my stomach acting all sorts of crazy from his touch. "What?"

"What photo?" Clove interrupts as he brakes for a stop sign.

"You look nervous." Maxon ignores Clove and gives a look at my fidgeting hands. "Is it because you're worried about the photo getting sent out to everyone?"

"No. Honestly, I haven't thought about the photo since Jokester over here showed up." I nod in Clove's direction.

"Glad I can be of service." He smiles then frowns. "But seriously, what photo?"

Sighing, I quickly explain what happened, showing him the photo.

He laughs his ass off at the sight of it. "That's the worst Photoshop job I've ever seen."

"Yeah, I know." I put my phone back into my pocket. "That doesn't mean people won't believe it."

"True." His laughter fizzles. "So what are we going to do about it?"

" _We_?" I question in a light tone. Really, though, I'm freaking the crazy unicorns out that he'll retract his "we" statement. And he should. He really, really should.

Maxon nudges my shoulder with his. "I thought we agreed to be friends yesterday?"

"We did." I look at him, tucking a stray strand of hair out of my eyes. "But I wasn't sure what that meant—if our friendship applied during school hours. In fact, you guys should stay away from me while we're at school so you won't have to deal with Queeny while she's in full demolish Ashlynn mode."

He trades a look with Clove before fixing his eyes on me. "What kind of friends would we be if we bailed on you when things get ugly?"

"Um, the smart kind. I know a lot of people who would."

"Well, the people you know suck," Clove chimes in. "No offense."

"None taken." I pick at my fingernail polish in a pathetic attempt to hide how much I truly don't want to say what I'm about to. "Still, I wouldn't think any less of you if you don't want to hang out with me while we're at school, especially when I've only been your friend for less than twenty-four hours. I'm pretty sure there's time left on the return policy. You could give me back." To who, though, since no one else wants me?

They grow quiet, and I start to squirm with nervousness. What else did I expect?

_This is how it should be, and I need to be okay with it,_ I try to convince myself while my aching heart laughs at me.

"Nah, I think we'll keep you," Clove announces, breaking the silence.

"Are you sure?" I double-check, glancing from him to Maxon.

Maxon slips his arm across the seat behind me, and I fight the compulsion to rest my head back.

"Of course we're sure. We never take anyone into our group unless we're sure," Maxon says, brushing his fingers against my hair.

Whether the move is intentional or not, I haven't got a spaztastic clue, but my, oh, my, it feels wonderful. I want to ask him if he knows what he's doing it, why he's so sure about me. I want to ask him if the rest of his group will be so sure, tell him that he probably shouldn't be so sure of me. I want to tell him a lot of things, like everything, especially about what I did last fall to him and his friends. However, terrified they'll dropkick me to Loserville, I remain mute.

When my phone buzzes, I claw my fingers into the distraction from my guilt-ridden thoughts and hastily dig it out of my pocket.

**Queeny: Who's the biggest coward in all of Fareland? Do you know the answer, Ash? Because I sure do, and I'm going to prove it. Secret #2 is out. Can't wait to see your face at school. XoXo**

I want to text back and tell her she's wrong, that I'm not a coward. Then I think about the secret I haven't told Maxon and Clove, and I wonder if maybe Queeny's right.

Perhaps I really am the biggest coward in all of Fareland.

# Chapter Twelve

I decide to keep the text a secret, figuring I've piled enough baggage onto my day-long friendship with Maxon and Clove.

Ten minutes later, we park in the school parking lot and the cloudy sky begins to grumble with an impending storm. I pretend I'm fantastically cool about being at school as I climb out of the car and sling the handle of my bag over my shoulder, yet my heart refuses to chillax.

"Are you going to be in Mr. Chester's classroom at lunchtime?" Clove asks as we wait for Maxon to get his box from the trunk.

"Probably. It's where I ate lunch yesterday." I act like people aren't staring at me as they pass by, though I feel like I'm center stage and am about to puke from stage fright.

"Cool." Clove absentmindedly tousles his hair. "I'll check out a laptop from the computer lab so we can try to start on that thing you need me to do."

"Isn't it risky to do that on a school computer?" I keep my voice low and out of reach of gossiping ears. "I think the lab aid keeps a record of what computers get checked out and by whom."

"Not if I don't properly sign one out." He grins, jolting as thunder rumbles.

I slip on my oversized sunglasses, more for protection from the stares than the nonexistent sunlight. "You're going to steal one?"

He glances up as lightning streaks across the sky. "I prefer the term 'borrowing without permission.' "

"Clove, I don't want you to get in trouble over this."

"I won't get in trouble. I know what I'm doing."

"Okay... But promise me you won't do it if you think you're going to get in trouble." I stick out my hand with my pinkie hitched out. "In fact, you have to pinkie swear it."

He hitches his pinkie with mine with a thoughtful look. "Who would've thought Ashlynn Wynterland would be such a worrier?"

"What can I say? I'm full of surprises." I wink, wishing I felt as lighthearted as I sound.

He chuckles, unhooking his pinkie from mine. "Quit stealing my moves and get your own."

I smile. Then any ounce of happiness gets left behind as we start making our way across the parking lot and toward the school's entrance doors. I keep my eyes glued to Clove's back, trying to disregard all the people who've clearly never heard how staring is rude.

"This is going to be a long day," I mutter, pressing my fingers to the brim of my nose.

"I'm sure it'll tone down by lunch time," Maxon says. When I give him a doubtful look, he sighs. "Okay, maybe I'm being too optimistic. At least you'll get a break from it during lunchtime while we're in Mr. Chester's classroom."

I tighten the knot of the plaid jacket tied around my waist. "You guys will be there at lunchtime today?"

He nods, hopping up onto the curb. "The only reason we weren't there yesterday was because we were at the university trying to plead our case."

I slow down as we near the glass entrance doors. "Plead your case about what?"

"About us being able to enter the science fair this year," Clove explains, pulling open the door for us. "Last year, we were accused of cheating and got disqualified from the competition."

"But we didn't cheat." Maxon moves the box to his side and turns sideways to maneuver through the doorway. "Someone set us up."

"Oh." A ginormous lump crams into my throat. "That sucks."

"Yeah, it does." Clove waits for me to step into the hallway before joining my side, letting the door bang shut behind us.

Down the hallway, Huntley is waiting by his locker, looking in our direction. As soon as he spots us—or well, more like me—he shakes his head in disgust and walks away. I feel bad, not only because he clearly despises me, but because I think my presence might be keeping him from Maxon and Clove.

"What sucks, though," Clove continues, "is they aren't letting us compete this year, either. And first prize is a scholarship, which all of us could use really effing badly."

If a guilty conscience could kill, I'd be dead where I stand.

"Do you know who set you up?" I cringe as my voice goes up an octave, but Maxon doesn't seem to notice, shaking his head as we push our way through the throng of people clogging up the hallway.

"It was probably one of the other teams from the school," he replies.

I fiddle with the clasp on my leather bracelet. "Why would they do that?"

"Because we always win," Clove explains, stuffing his hands into the back pockets of his jeans.

My gut twists and turns, clenching so tight I worry I'm going to yack my breakfast all over the stained tile floors.

_Just tell them, Ash! Be a better person than you used to be!_

"So, you weren't able to talk them into letting you participate this year?" I'm the worst person in all of Fareland.

Maxon smiles sadly. "We weren't persuasive enough."

"That's because we all suck at debate, especially Kinslee. She's way too aggressive. We never should've let her talk." Clove slows to a stop as we reach his locker.

"Yeah, perhaps." Maxon stops beside him. "Honestly, I don't think it would've made a difference. The committee seemed like they had their minds made up the moment we walked into the room."

"Yeah, maybe." Clove spins the locker combo. "I don't know, though. Maybe if Ash were there, things might've gone differently." He grins at me. "She did talk me into hacking into an account for her."

"I'm not sure if I really talked you into it, so much as guilt tripped you into it." Because I'm a manipulator. An evil manipulator who does horrible things to the sweetest guys. "I have to get to class. See you guys at lunch." I throw a panicked wave at them then rush down the hallway. "Oh, my God. Oh, my God. I'm not just the worst person in Fareland, I'm the worst person in the world," I say under my breath as I weave my way through the crowd and toward the bathroom.

Every single person I pass stares at me, but the derisive gawking has become easier to endure now that I'm too busy drowning in guilt. I feel like I can barely keep my head above water, and it's only a matter of time before I sink to the bottom. If I ever manage to confess what I did to Maxon and Clove, no one will come to my rescue.

_Isn't that how this should go? If you were a good person, it would be._

When I make it to the bathroom, I splash cold water on my face then pat my skin dry with a paper towel. "Get your shit together, Ash. You can't fall apart at school or Queeny will rip you to bits."

"You say that like I'm not already planning to." The sound of her voice sends a chill up my spine.

Balling up the paper towel and discarding it in the trash, I put on a neutral expression before I turn to face her.

"Planning to and actually doing are two completely different things."

She's standing in front of the door, scrutinizing my outfit. I do the same to her.

Like always, her hair is perfectly in place, her makeup flawless, and her pale blue dress and strappy shoes are designer.

"Everything I plan, I do." Pure hatred fills her eyes. "I never half-ass anything. And if anyone should know that, it's you." She scans my outfit again. "You, on the other hand..." She arches her brows.

I cross my arms. "You know I'm dressed like this because you have all my clothes."

" _Had_ ," she enunciates. "I decided to be charitable and make a very generous donation to the homeless shelter. Although, they almost didn't take them; said they were too trashy."

"I'm sure they did." I collect my bag from off the floor as the bell rings. "Well, it's been lovely chatting with you, but I need to get to class." I step toward the door, but she doesn't budge. I sigh exhaustedly. "Look, as much as I'd love to stand around and bash each other, I can't be tardy again."

"Well, in that case..." She reclines against the door, getting comfortable.

"Move out of my way, Queeny."

"No. Not until I'm ready to move."

"Maybe I'll just have to make you, then."

She flinches, but remains in front of the door.

Dammit! I really want to kick her ass, but I promised Maxon I wouldn't.

I huff out an exasperated breath. "You know this doesn't solve anything, right?"

"Maybe. It makes me feel a little bit better, though." She examines her fingernails as if she's bored. "So does making out with Knox."

"You know, you accuse me of kissing Zane and tell me I'm a horrible friend. But even if I did do that—which I didn't—kissing my boyfriend before we were even broken up makes you just as much of a terrible person."

"I know," she says, completely unbothered. "But to win evil, you have to be evil."

Okay, talk about twisted logic.

"So you really did it?" I can't hide the hurt in my tone. "You hooked up with Knox before we were broken up?"

She stares at me like I'm pitiful. "Ash, I hate to break this to you, but Knox has been messing around with other girls pretty much since you guys started going out." She erupts in laughter. "Okay, that's a total lie. Well, not the part about him cheating on you, just the part about me hating to break the news to you. God, I'm so glad I did. The look on your face is priceless." She turns for the door, still laughing.

My ears ring and my vision spots as anger and hurt roars through me. "Why are you doing this? I was your best friend, and then you just tossed me aside when some stranger told you I kissed a guy you liked. And don't try to feed me some shit about that photo proving I did it. I know you photoshopped that damn thing, and you did a really shitty job of it, too."

She spins around, her humor gone. "You want to know why I'm doing this? Because I hate you. Just like everyone important does." She reaches for the door handle. "You and I were never friends, Ash. Did I mind hanging out with you? No, not always. At least, not when you weren't acting like a total pathetic loser.

"It's not like I needed you in my life. You were just there because I didn't care enough to kick you out. I wish I would've—No, I wish I never had been stupid enough to let you in, in the first place. But I did, and now I can't do anything except regret my decision. And I hate regret. The only thing that'll make me feel better is to make you regret, too, which I haven't felt like I've done yet. At all. Not until I get ahold of your heart and rip it to shreds. Just like you did mine."

She draws open the door then pauses. "And FYI, the person who told me you kissed Zane isn't a stranger. They're close to me, and they're completely trustworthy, unlike you." She strides out of the bathroom, the door clicking shut behind her.

I hunch over, bracing my hands on my knees as I suck in a huge breath of air. Her words... they hurt, more than I wish they did. Knox cheating on me all this time... Her never being my friend... Did she really mean all of it? Was all of this—the last six years—just a game to her? Was mine and Knox's relationship a joke? Was every relationship I've ever had with anyone outside of my family a joke?

I don't know, which is sad. Really, really depressingly sad. Regardless, I can't just stand in the bathroom and wallow over the past, no matter how much I want to.

Heaving a weight-of-the-world-on-my-shoulders sigh, I sling my bag over my shoulder and step into the hallway packed with people gossiping about me. Despite the crappiness happening, one positive thing has come out of being held against my will in the bathroom by Queeny. She let it slip that she is close to the person who said I kissed Zane, which means I probably was at one time, too.

I push my way down the hallway, feeling more determined to and out who this mystery friendship wrecker is. Not to get my friendship with Queeny back, but to clear my name. That's all I want anymore—a fresh start, one where I can be a better person and not have to walk up the hallway feeling like I'm wearing a bright red letter A.

Yes, that's all I want. To live a nice, quiet, invisible life.

But right as the peaceful thought crosses my mind, a hand slaps down over my mouth.

I start to scream, but I'm jerked back into an alcove and thrown into a pitch-black space that reeks of lemon cleaner.

The janitor closet?

I get pushed down onto the door, landing hard on my back. I work to get my feet underneath my, but a foot stomps down on my chest.

"Stay down if you know what's good for you." An exaggeratedly deep voice warns.

They're disguising their voice. Great.

I grab their leg to throw them o me, but they push down their weight while snatching my phone out of my pocket.

"This is so ridiculous," I seethe. "All of this because Queeny thinks I kissed her crush."

"Oh, there's way more to it than that, Ashlynn," the person replies through a dark laugh. "Way, way more. And there's so much more to come. So much secrets to reveal."

I open my mouth to demand they tell me what they mean, but they hurry out of the room, shutting the door behind them."

Panicking, I scramble to my feet, stumble to the door, and twist the doorknob. But the thing won't budge. Then I remember that the janitor's closet locks from the outside.

Crap!

I bang on the door.

I scream!

But like I wished for earlier, no one hears me—I've

become invisible.

I fumble around for the light switch, finally finding it.

I start to let out a sigh when light illuminates through the room and I spot a message written on the wall in paint.

_Unless you want this to happen like this again, stay away from Maxon and his friends. And if you tell anyone about this, we'll making your life a living hell._

_\--From, Your worst enemy_

I'd think the message was from Queeny, but it doesn't look like her writing.

A chill trickles down my spine. Who did this to me? One of Queeny's minions? Probably.

Whoever it is, there's no way in hell I'm going to let someone peer pressure me into not being friends with Maxon and Clove. They're all I have right now, even if I don't deserve their friendship.

Sighing, I sink down to the door and wait. And wait. And wait.

I wait for what feels like forever and finally I hear the lock to the door click.

I carefully stand up then twist the doorknob and open the door. When I peer out, I half expect someone to be standing out there, but nope. No one is there. Confused, I exit the closet only to step right on top of something. I glance down and find a key. And old skeleton type key with weird markings on it.

"What the hell?" I mutter while scratching my head.

Okay, this is weird. Like super weird.

And it feels like someone is playing a game with me. Without knowing who all the players are, I'm going to lose. I need to figure out who it is and fast before something worse happens to me. So I pocket the key and make a vow to myself to start figuring this out—to start playing the game to win.

# About the Author

Jessica Sorensen is a _New York Times_ and _USA Today_ bestselling author who lives in the snowy mountains of Wyoming. When she's not writing, she spends her time reading and hanging out with her family.

# Also by Jessica Sorensen

**My Complicated Life:**

Ashlynn & the Secret Crush

Ashlynn & the Secret

Untitled (coming soon)

* * *

**Guardian Academy Series:**

Entranced

Entangled

Enchanted

Entice

Charmed

Untitled (coming soon)

* * *

**Monster Academy for the Magical:**

Monster Academy for the Magical

Monster Academy for the Magical: The Deadly Four

Monster Academy for the Magical: The Monster Trial

Monster Academy for the Magical: The Monster Clique

Untitled (coming soon)

* * *

**Harlynn's Mystery Investigations:**

Sugar Cookies & Zombie Secrets

Untitled (coming soon)

* * *

**The Sunnyvale Mysteries:**

The Year of Secrets & Cupcakes

The Year of Lies & Cotton Candy

The Year of Truths & Sugar Cookies

Untitled (coming soon)

* * *

**The Fareland Mysteries:**

Secrets, Coffee, and the Mysterious Note

Untitled (coming soon)

* * *

**The Zhara Files (Zhara Honetyon):**

Discovering Benton

The Start of a Road Trip (coming soon)

* * *

**The Coincidence Mysteries:**

The Evermore

Untitled (coming soon)

* * *

**The Secret Star Grove Mysteries:**

The Interrupted Road Trip

Untitled (coming soon)

* * *

**The Mysteries of Star Grove:**

Heat

Untitled (coming soon)

* * *

**Rebels & Misfits:**

Rules of a Rebels & a Shy Girl

Untitled (coming soon)

* * *

**Rebels & Misfits Detectives:**

Spies, Lies, & Cupcakes

Untitled (coming soon)

* * *

**A Pact Between the Forgotten:**

The Art of Being Friends

The Rules of Being Friends (coming soon)

* * *

**Lexi Ashford Series:**

The Diary of Lexi Ashford

The Diary of Lexi Ashford: The Agreement

Untitled (coming soon)

* * *

**Enchanted Chaos Series:**

Enchanted Chaos

Charmed Chaos

Entangled Chaos

Untitled (coming soon)

* * *

**The Curse of Hallows Hill Series:**

Breathing Lies

Shadowed Whisperers

Untitled (coming soon)

* * *

**My Cursed Superhero Life:**

Cursed

Untitled (coming soon)

* * *

**Capturing Magic:**

Chasing Wishes

Chasing Magic

Chasing Promises

Untitled (coming soon)

* * *

**Chasing the Harlyton Sisters Series:**

Chasing Hadley

Falling for Hadley

Holding onto Hadley

Untitled (coming soon)

* * *

**Tangled Realms:**

Forever Violet

Untitled (coming soon)

* * *

**Curse of the Vampire Queen:**

Tempting Raven

Enchanting Raven

Alluring Raven

Untitled (coming soon)

* * *

**The Unraveling Mysteries Series:**

Unraveling You

Raveling You

Awakening You

Untitled (coming soon)

* * *

**Unexpected Series:**

The Unexpected Complications of Revenge

Untitled (coming soon)

* * *

**Shadow Cove Series:**

What Lies in the Darkness

What Lies in the Dark

Untitled (coming soon)

* * *

**Mystic Willow Bay Series:**

The Secret Life of a Witch

Broken Magic

Stolen Kisses

One Wild, Crazy, Zombie Night

Magical Whispers & the Undead

Untitled (coming soon)

* * *

**Standalones:**

The Forgotten Girl

* * *

**Broken City Series:**

Nameless

Forsaken

Oblivion

Forbidden (coming soon)

* * *

**The Coincidence Series:**

The Coincidence of Callie and Kayden

The Redemption of Callie and Kayden

The Destiny of Violet and Luke

The Probability of Violet and Luke

The Certainty of Violet and Luke

The Resolution of Callie and Kayden

Seth & Greyson

* * *

**The Secret Series:**

The Prelude of Ella and Micha

The Secret of Ella and Micha

The Forever of Ella and Micha

The Temptation of Lila and Ethan

The Ever After of Ella and Micha

Lila and Ethan: Forever and Always

Ella and Micha: Infinitely and Always

* * *

**The Shattered Promises Series:**

Shattered Promises

Fractured Souls

Unbroken

Broken Visions

Scattered Ashes

* * *

**Breaking Nova Series:**

Breaking Nova

Saving Quinton

Delilah: The Making of Red

Nova and Quinton: No Regrets

Tristan: Finding Hope

Wreck Me

Ruin Me

* * *

**The Fallen Star Series:**

The Fallen Star

The Underworld

The Vision

The Promise

The Lost Soul

The Evanescence

The Mist of Stars (untitled)

* * *

**The Darkness Falls Series:**

Darkness Falls

Darkness Breaks

Darkness Fades

* * *

**The Death Collectors Series (NA and YA):**

Ember X and Ember

Cinder X and Cinder

Spark X and Spark

* * *

**Unbeautiful Series:**

Unbeautiful

Untamed
