Absolutely (Larson) Read online

  Ashlyn snaps around like I shocked her. Without a word, I hand her an ear bud. Warily, she takes it from me, crinkling her brow. I nudge her again, and she puts the ear bud in. I press play and the song “Naïve” by The Kooks starts. The lyrics seem accusatory, but they made me think of her at that moment. Hopefully, she won’t take it too personally.

  I don’t have to worry, evidently, as Ashlyn lets out a short laugh and relaxes against the lockers. She even props a foot back copying my stance. But what really gets me is that she starts singing along. Right there in the crowded hallway. I didn’t see that coming, and it’s like a freight train. The shock on my face doesn’t go unnoticed. Ashlyn shrugs likes it’s no big deal.

  No big deal to meet a girl who can sing along to The Kooks?

  The song ends and she returns my ear bud. “Thanks,” she sighs. “I definitely needed that.”

  Ashlyn turns to leave, and I follow her to English like a lost and stunned puppy. In class, she studiously avoids eye contact with me. She's either mad that I played her the song…or maybe she's just as shocked as I am.

  ***

  At lunch, Jackson struts outside like he belongs and heads straight to the girls’ table. He plops down beside Ashlyn, putting his arm around her, low on her waist. She’s leaning away from him, but there’s really nowhere for her to go except off the bench.

  Jackson leans into her personal space, causing me to feel a pang suspiciously like jealousy. And a lot like anger. He says something to which she shakes her head violently. Jackson leans in again to speak to her.

  “I mean it!” she shouts at him.

  When a girl says no, it’s serious damn business, so I'm ready to jump in to beat morality into him. Jackson’s freaking lucky he gets up to leave. He shoots her a look I can’t see. I can only sit there clenching my fists. Tomás elbows me to see what’s up. I shrug it off.

  Jackson was hella lucky. He couldn’t possibly know the bad reputation I had back at my old school. A reputation I gladly left behind, but it was well-deserved. My unwillingness to fight fair was somewhat legendary. Legendary and a part of the reason we moved to this hole.

  Ashlyn sees me watching the scene and turns beet red—underneath the freckles. I have a tough time keeping the anger from showing on my face.

  ***

  Later, after athletics, I ask Jackson, “What’s with you and Ashlyn?” trying to sound like it’s nothing to me.

  “Ha! Nothing…yet. She just doesn’t realize we’ll be at the dance Friday night together.” He sounds smug as he raises his brows suggestively.

  Jacob overhears and adds, “Hey, if she kicks you to the curb, signal me man. I’ll take over from there!”

  They both laugh. I'm stuck between two idiots who’ve never heard the term “date rape.” Crap, now I'm informed about their idiotic plan for the chick I gotta walk with every day. Being informed makes me responsible.

  ***

  Ashlyn

  I successfully shut my mouth for that entire walk on Thursday. Kiel looked mystified by my behavior and I pat myself on the back. I walked into school with a cheerful, optimistic disposition.

  That is, until I see the newest photographic tragedy on my locker. My breathing escalates and held-in sobs choke my throat. Burying my head in my locker seems the only recourse until I could settle down.

  I feel a nudge on my shoulders and jerked around ready to face whoever it is this time. But it’s just Kiel. Just Kiel, I sigh on the inside. He offers me an ear bud, and after thinking it through, I take it. Suspicious, but more curious, I put it in my ear. A familiar song begins, and I relax. I can’t help but sing along. His shock makes my day brighter. It also conveys his musical tastes in the short three minutes and twenty-three seconds.

  Yeah, sure, I'm a little insulted by the lyrics, but at the same time I'm glad he’s thinking of me. I try not to read anything else into it, though. It’s a sweet gesture from someone who doesn’t know me.

  I make it until lunch, but barely. The other cheerleaders in my classes are whispering behind their hands or texting while glaring at me. I'm a marked woman. I can’t bear to look at Kiel, who pities me. I can’t bear to look at the people judging me. I know they’ve seen that picture.

  Jenna, D'Nae, and I are discussing our Calculus homework and may be getting together to work on it this weekend.

  “There you are,” someone says behind me and sits down beside me. A large part of me hopes it’s Kiel again. Disappointment wracks me when I see it’s Jackson. He harasses me about the dance. There’s no way I'm going to the dance with him. Or even near him at the dance. To top it off, Kiel is watching this go down. Just more fuel for that fire. I really am naïve if I think I'm getting out of this unscathed.

  Cheer practice sucks too, of course. I am living for Saturday at this point, even knowing I still have to make it through Friday.

  ***

  Kiel

  Coach tells me I'm starting quarterback during practice. The good news is accompanied by the bad news about whose position I'm taking. I can see Jacob walking toward the parking lot, pissed. I’ve worked my butt off to prove myself on the field though, so I'm going to ignore his crap and do my job.

  I tell my parents at dinner and they're proud as usual. I get praise and smiles from them and glares from Lili.

  I go to my room and attempt to get homework done, but my mind is racing. Besides the idiotic plans of idiotic assholes and a certain Kooks-loving girl, there is other important stuff going on in my life. I’ve got to get flyers made to hand out to potential band mates and get everything set up for auditions in two weeks.

  I'm going to a dance with a girl I hardly know. We’ll be getting to know each other in a church gymnasium while lousy Top 20 and country blares in my ears. Romantic, right?

  And my dad is junking up my Jeep with his electrician’s gear. He’s scratching my baby and there’s a dent from someone throwing open a door into it. Where the hell did he have to park for that to happen?

  I lay back in my bed, arms resting behind my head, letting the past wash over me. I welcome it.

  ***

  When I started acting out at thirteen, my parents weren’t too worried. My first suspension was for fighting over something so meaningless, I've since forgotten what it was. Maybe a girl? Maybe an imagined offense.

  The second suspension coupled with a night’s stay in Juvenile Detention for possession of a weapon, had my parents showing considerably more concern. Neither could find a reason for the anger I had pent up inside me.

  What can I say but that I got in with the wrong crowd? The dead wrong crowd. These people resented their lives and their parents’ poverty. They were also drug dealers.

  I didn’t need the money at first until I saw their rides, expensive electronics, and gold jewelry. Some bought things for their families they couldn’t have afforded otherwise. My family wasn’t wanting, but they also didn’t have a seventy-inch flat screen TV hanging from their wall. And I bought into the anger at the system.

  After that night’s stay in juvie, my parents moved us to a new house and a new school across town. Lili started hating me then. I like to think we’d had a typical brother-sister relationship before that. She’d tease me and I’d steal her stuff to rile her up. But I could still ruffle her hair and she would still tell me what was happening in her life.

  But even at this new school, I found the bad kids. It wasn’t a few months and I got thrown in the alternative campus with even worse kids than the ones I had been hanging around. I’d been caught with drugs. Not too much but enough that the administration didn’t want me with the regular population.

  And by age fifteen I was selling Ecstasy and occasionally some acid and crack. Basically whatever I could get my hands on.

  Then the third suspension? I got suspended for cursing at a teacher and destroying her room; I went nuts because she caught me on my phone. That one had my mom fuming. She must have lit ten candles at church.

  Then, Mom and D
ad let me spend another night in juvenile detention after I skipped school one too many times to make deliveries, pick-ups, or to smoke. The school’s truancy officer hunted me down and found me and my friends high.

  That’s what led up to the second time we moved, which was the worst. The area of Dallas we moved to was supposed to be cleaner, with less dealers and better police enforcement. But I could find trouble.

  I was skipping again, but carefully. One of my new dealer friends shot and killed two fellow dealers while some other guys and I were out in the car. We didn’t know until later. We were forced to testify against my friend to stay out of jail. The dealer was a major player in growing, making, and distributing; we weren’t.

  That is one part of my past I am not allowed, by order of the court, to talk about. In fact, the record is not public because I was a minor. I don’t talk about it and no one else can know about it. It was part of the plea bargain the court appointed lawyer got us.

  The thing that caused Mom to pick up and move us the third time to the smallest, remotest town I had ever seen? It’s not illegal for me to talk about the reason. It’s a matter of choice. I choose not to. It was the absolute darkest moment in my entire life.

  I had to take anger management classes early this past summer and Mom’s head has been bent religiously over her rosary every day since. Through it all, they stuck by me. Dad gave the speeches but never yelled. Mom yelled but never hated me. The move to Larson was their last ditch effort, and I am going to make the best of it. I owe them that much. I owe them my life, in fact.

  And here I am. With problems that aren’t really problems compared to those in my past and a position on the team I’ve worked my butt off to earn. I sure as hell didn’t need anyone else’s problems. At least that’s what I have to keep telling myself.

  ***

  Ashlyn

  Friday dawns dreary. It rarely rains here unless it’s time for the fair or you really don’t need it to. I err on the side of caution-to-the-wind and leave the house umbrella-less. My hair is done up in a tight ponytail with a huge purple bow—standard cheer gear. My uniform is fresh from the dry cleaner. I’ll get my “game” face on when I get to school so it won’t melt before the Pep Rally.

  I realize my mistake right as I'm meeting up with Kiel. The sprinkles start, big, fat ones that can take out a whole set of fake eyelashes with a single drop. I groan. Kiel played it smart when he left his house. He has his umbrella ready.

  “Awww!” I say as he opens it. It’s covered in cute and cuddly kittens! Hundreds of them.

  I'm grinning ear-to-freaking-ear over his felines. He rolls his eyes. Then he quickly sees that I am without proper rain protection. Another eye roll accompanies his steps as he walks up beside me. The kitties cover half of him and all of me. Kiel’s height works in my favor.

  Since we’re joined at the hip, I decide to be bold. Snapping my fingers in his face to get his attention, I point to his ear bud. He shoots me a look of mock dismay. I must’ve left an impression yesterday, because he trusts me, handing it over with half of a smile.

  The song playing is by Imagine Dragons. I change my pace to match the tempo. I hear him laugh and recall how much I love the way it sounds. His pace matches mine. I realize why he sped up that day as he walked. Rogue Wave comes on next and we slow down some.

  Our bodies keep grazing because of how close we have to be under the umbrella. However, this is Texas; and the skies choose to clear up just as a third song begins. The incredible moment ends. Kiel reclaims his ear bud and distance while folding up the kitten umbrella. Reality hits me like the downpour hit—suddenly. My stomach clenches. The world is dreary and lonely again.

  Jenna and D'Nae meet me at the school’s front entrance. D'Nae is asking for wardrobe advice for tonight, but I'm more focused on watching Kiel walk past me.

  “What do you think, Ash? The black mini-skirt with the leggings I wore Monday. Or skinny jeans?” She’s chewing her lip, stressing. The mention of her “first date” with Kiel brings me back to the now. There’s that clenching feeling again.

  I smile but it seems a little cringe-y to me. I know it’s important to her, so I give her my attention. “The mini, most definitely. It’s killer on you.”

  “I’m wearing a new hi-lo dress I picked up at Agaci,” Jenna says. “So, what are you wearing, Ash?”

  “I seriously haven't planned that far ahead,” I say. “Maybe just this.” I look down at my uniform.

  “Ew.” D'Nae says and curls her lip some. “You cannot wear that thing to this dance. In case the cheer witches show up in theirs, you don’t want to be associated. We insist.” She turns to Jenna for agreement who nods sagely.

  “Ok. Ok. But I don’t know if I can make it home before the game starts.”

  “What about your sister Brisa?” Jenna asks. “Can she grab you something? She’ll be there too! It’s perfect, Ash!”

  “I’ll have to find her,” I say, not sure about their plan.

  “What’s her number? I’ll text her,” D'Nae offers. And that’s that. My new friends are pushy but pretty great, actually. Oh, and rather coordinated.

  ***

  Kiel

  As I'm leaving the house this morning, I find that, like my Jeep, my umbrella was also hijacked by a parent. Where does a person even find cat-coated umbrellas? This is humiliating, but I have no alternative. Liliana had grabbed the pink one, which would’ve been preferable to kittens any day. I am secure enough in my manhood for pink, but kittens?

  As Ashlyn and I meet up, I see she didn’t even bring an umbrella. She’s perpetually in some sort of distress.

  Distress or not, she is rocking the cheer uniform. Knowing she’ll be cheering me—ahem—us on is a big turn on. Yes, I admit it. I have to remind myself that I'm going out with her friend tonight. That’s when the skies open up on us.

  She grins goofily at my umbrella. I walk over to her and share it. I'm not immune to our bodies touching. But her fingers are snapping, maybe to draw my attention away from the feel of her. But no, she’s demanding an ear bud.

  Chick has good musical taste, so I relent. As soon as the ear bud is in, she recognizes the song. It’s something that can’t be faked—it’s instinctive.

  I try to focus on football and D'Nae. Two songs in and I can’t. My focus is still on Ashlyn, stealth-like, from the corner of my eye. She’s amazing, mouthing the words. Music affects her like it does me. The second song ends and the third starts.

  I think I have feelings for her. Can’t say which feelings. But there’s something about her that draws me in. D'Nae, football. D'Nae, football. Nope. Ashlyn is invading my brain.

  Exactly like the rain started, it stopped. Abruptly. A relief washes over me as I hold out my hand for the ear bud, fold up the offensive umbrella, and get the hell out of her personal space. The relief wears off quickly and is replaced by an Ashlyn deficiency. Hell, I’ve already given it a name… I am screwed.

  ***

  The girls follow Ashlyn to her locker. She’s forgotten, in her peppy mood, what’s likely to be tacked on to her locker, as it had been every other day this week. Ahead of them, I reach over and swipe it off the door inconspicuously, tucking it in—what else?—my Spanish book. Where the other one still is.

  She slides me a grateful look. Not sure if she’s hiding it from them, but maybe I would be too. OK, so I'm not being one hundred percent honest here. I am hiding stuff from my friends. But for very different reasons.

  ***

  At the pep rally, my eyes are completely zeroed in on her like Alice aiming at a zombie in Resident Evil. I don’t miss anything. Not a flip of her hair or a flick of her wrists, even when they’re covered by gold and purple pompoms. Distracted is putting it lightly. I try switching my attention to see if the drum section has any promising rock candidates, but yet another cheer begins. I'm sucked right back in.

  Reyna catches and follows my gaze to Ashlyn and she sneers. Straight up scary; the bride of Chucky would be p
roud. Film references aside, Reyna’s most likely not the only one noticing. Tearing my eyes away, I stare at the one lonely flag that brags about some long ago Division title. It flutters like Ashlyn’s lashes when—

  Whoa. Damn! I gotta get out more. I'm starting to sound like a romance novel.

  Snapping out of it, I hear my name called to give a rallying pep talk about crushing Seminole, claiming victory, taking out our adversaries. Blah, blah, blah. There’s a good rock anthem in there somewhere. I need to remember that tomorrow or maybe during Bio so my hands won’t be tempted to touch.

  As I'm thinking of her hair, the crowd is roaring, going ape-shit over my speech. I finish it with a rousing, “Scalp the Indians!” Cliché, but no one really cares. Except Ashlyn. She’s chuckling behind her pompoms. The part of her face that’s visible is going red. I peer at her with a look that says how cracked she’s acting and roll my eyes. She only laughs harder.

  I pump my fist in the air (just to watch her almost fall out), and return to my seat with the team. They slap me on the back and yell, “Hell yeah!” as I sit back down.

  ***

  On the football field, I come to the sad realization that I’ve been trying to impress Ashlyn tonight. It’s usually my parents, who are proud regardless, or the possibility that there’s a recruiter in the bleachers. All that shouting and jumping around she’s been doing warrants my best effort, right?

  That’s my goal. I accomplish that and more, making all my speech promises a reality. Everything on that field, I did for her. The team struts around like bears on their hind legs, growling and yelling at each other. Then we head off to the showers.

  Foremost in my mind, other than Ashlyn’s pompoms, are Stupid One and Stupid Two’s unhatched plan they let slip yesterday. Even now, they’re discussing the “hot chicks” that’ll be there tonight and “getting tail.” Makes me sad to be male. I'm surprised the human race has made it as long as it has with these lady killer types at the helm. I get out of there quickly.

  Ashlyn is walking away from the girls’ locker room just as I step out. I’ve got the best view of a mid-thigh, tiered skirt and a white sleeveless top that show off her well-defined arms. The skirt moves with every swing of her hips as she walks. The evening breeze catches the skirt and plasters it between her legs.