Absolutely (Larson) Read online

  She sees me ogling her hip region. DamnShitHell. Nothing awkward about that.

  I hope that my ogling is the worst thing that happens to her tonight.

  Chapter 5

  Ashlyn

  I cheered my freaking heart out twice today. I can honestly say it was not for the team as a whole. It was only for their new QB whom I caught staring me down. The stares were all hardcore and I let him know I saw them. Twice today he saved me. That ridiculous umbrella! And the picture on the locker. So I gave him his fill of eye candy. I gave those cheers my all.

  I shook the crap out of my pompoms—both sets. There’s no shame in it; just returning his kindness.

  ***

  After the game, I change into the clothes Brisa brought me and leave the locker room. Kiel is walking this way and he’s got his eyes trained on me. Not in the innocent, isn’t-that-Ashlyn-over-there kind of way, either. He’s checking out the goods. Something in me shifts, knowing he likes what he sees. I hurry out to Jenna’s car. She has the music cranked loud; party is started up in here. We drive by Jenna’s house to pick up D'Nae.

  On the way, we dance crazily in our seats, even D'Nae. She hollers over a pulsing beat, “I gotta be honest here. Kiel? He’s fine as hell, but you know what?”

  “What?” Jenna and I both yell over the music. I wonder what could possibly be wrong with him. He’s Grade A. Top Choice. Whatever else they say to indicate superior hotness? That’s Kiel.

  “He likes someone else!”

  “WHAT?!” we scream. Jenna in shock, me out of unadulterated jealousy. Jenna actually turns down the music for the explanation.

  “He was staring throughout the entire pep rally,” D'Nae says.

  “WHO?!” Jenna screams.

  “I ain’t mad atcha, Ash,” D'Nae says and smiles genuinely. Jenna’s mouth falls open and she shrieks. “Anyway, I grabbed his iPod in Calculus and we are definitely musically incompatible. Besides…”

  She leaves us on a cliffhanger until we both scream at her to spit it out.

  “Besides,” D'Nae says again, “Liam Donald sort of asked me to dance with him in the hopes that Kiel and I didn’t work out.”

  “Ooooh, Liam is the hottest band geek ev-ah!” Jenna pronounces.

  “Yeah,” she says. “He’s a drummer.”

  Deep girly sighs erupt from Jenna and me as we pull up to the church gymnasium. I'm reaching for my purse when a car full of football players pulls up. Kiel gets out and I feel like it’s in slow motion. Bad-boy-in-a-movie type slo-mo. He’s filling out a short-sleeve, denim pearl snap like nobody’s business and khaki cargo shorts. His thumbs slip into the pockets and I want to take a pic so bad. I would create a pearl snap Tumblr thread, pin him on my Pinterest, and post him to Instagram. Oh, and tape him up on the inside of my locker. Obsess much?

  With those thoughts dogging me, I get out of the car and race inside with Jenna and D'Nae.

  D'Nae finds Kiel minutes later to inform him their short fling has fizzled. He’s a free man, she reports telling him. We commence with the dancing. All three of us give a new meaning to dancing with ourselves. What’s that saying? If you can’t laugh at yourself…Well, there are lots of other people laughing at you.

  About eight songs in, there is a serious potty break calling my name. I split from the safety of my small group and make my way to the back. I do my business and check my reflection. I'm sweaty and shiny but it’s not horrendous. After a powdering and gloss application, I'm ready to rejoin the party.

  I step out and right into Jackson’s waiting arms. He takes my hand and smiles. Or rather, what he thinks is a smile, but it’s downright disturbing. There’s a slight alcohol cloud around him. I try to reason with him and resort to yelling at the people we pass, but the music’s too loud. They just wave back. And we’re on the dark side of the gym, where the nefarious stuff goes on. He drags me to one of the unguarded dark corners.

  I try to tear my hands from his. “Shhh. Ashlyn. Shhh,” he says with a slur. “We gotta be quiet or the shap—chapper—chapa…”

  “Chaperones?” I keep him talking. That’s one thing I’ve learned from all the scary movies I’ve watched.

  “Yeah, those guys will hear us. You don’t want that!”

  “Yes and no,” I tell Jackson as his grip tightens on my wrists.

  “Yes and no? Is that like ‘maybe’? ‘Cause my brother says ‘maybe’ can’t get you thrown in jail.”

  So not what I meant to imply. “No, Jackson, just NO. Let me go. Jenna and D'Nae will get worried.”

  “Uh-uh. You said maybe.” And his lips descend on mine, none too pleasantly. I want to gag as he traps me with his liquor-flavored mouth. I struggle and scream into his mouth. But the screams aren’t getting me anywhere.

  Jackson has me pinned to the wall. I'm crying. I can feel his arousal. I can’t even knee him because his legs are between mine. I push as hard as I can, but my height gives me no leverage. I move my head, but he has some sort of drunken ability to get me back where he wants me, crushing my lips.

  Just when I’ve given up hope, Jackson is flung off me. I collapse down the wall in a sobbing heap. Through bleary eyes, I see Kiel stalking away. I stumble to my feet, ignoring the people around me and walk quickly toward him. Kiel is leaving the dance and out the door.

  I catch up and grab his arm. He spins, I guess expecting Jackson. I can feel the mascara running down my face, even waterproof was no match for that. “Thank you…That…He—Oh, God!” I bite my lip hard. I'm crying again.

  He lets out a big breath he’d been holding and rubs the back of his neck. Then he walks off leaving me in the parking lot. I can only watch. There’s no strength left in my legs. I sit, defeated, on the warm asphalt.

  Jenna and D'Nae clamor to get to me now that there’s a small crowd, help me to the car, and wipe off my face. They manage to get me into my house without my parents seeing the mess that I am.

  ***

  Kiel

  What I said before about my hope for today? I was wrong. Dead wrong. I went to the dance convinced that the Stupid Twins wouldn’t really try anything there. But I watched them anyway, once D'Nae let me off the hook, as she put it. I danced with a few nice girls mostly so I could keep my eye on Jacob and Jackson.

  Then I look over and notice that Ashlyn’s not with Jenna and D'Nae and Jackson’s not with Jacob. I do a perimeter check. She could’ve gone to the restroom. Just as I'm about to chalk it up as paranoia, me and a sophomore girl have followed the flow of dancing until we’re near the back of the building. I see Jackson in a dark corner past the restrooms with someone pinned to the wall. I excuse myself from my dance partner.

  Red is not a color you want me seeing. I don’t even know who he has pinned because I hear the muffled crying. I shove him away to reveal Ashlyn barely able to stand. Tears stream down her face.

  I have to leave. Right now. Or I’ll kill that SOB. That was what the old me would’ve done, but I'm not so sure the new me wouldn’t either.

  When I feel someone grab my arm as I get outside, I turn ready to throw a punch. It’s just Ashlyn, though. No, not just Ashlyn. She’s followed—more like stumbled after—me outside. She tries to thank me. I can’t stand to look at her. Every hair out of place, the tears, her shirt half untucked. All of it has me seconds from turning around and making Jackson wish he’d been born a female instead of being made into one—by me.

  I stalk off, leaving a broken Ashlyn in the parking lot for her friends to find.

  ***

  I can’t say how I spent the whole weekend. I did stuff, but I don’t remember the doing. I got stuff done, but it was with Friday night burned into my brain. Not the football game, not Ashlyn cheering, or those few seconds when Ashlyn was a walking vision. It’s all there but it’s consumed the instant it comes to mind, replaced with an image of her sliding down the wall. Every image is one of her, broken.

  I try to write that song from the pep rally speech, but the words won’t flow. I try t
o drown it out with music but every band has a song that brought back one image or another.

  It’s awkward to have been in that situation and yet not be in that situation at the same time. It sounds confusing, but I find myself wishing to have been in that situation as more than the rescuer. I want to have been the protector. The one who kept it from happening to begin with.

  ***

  It’s Sunday. Mom tries to get me out of the funk I'm in by fixing chile rellenos and sopapillas. The food doesn’t help and she resorts to Abuelita hot cocoa. With the warm cup in my hands, I tell her parts of Friday night, leaving out names and major details.

  Liliana, wanting attention and hot cocoa, sits down and asks, “Is this about that Ashlyn chick? Seriously stupid of her.”

  I shove the mug of cocoa at Lili and stalk out, leaving my mom to scold her. Lili needs an attitude check. Like me, though, it may have to come with a steep price.

  I call Tómas and drive off to work out at his house. He has a weight room in his garage. Maybe sweat and pain will get her out of my mind.

  ***

  Ashlyn

  It’s Saturday morning. Early. The lyrics to “Naïve” are haunting me as I pace around the house.

  I’m not saying it was your fault / Although you could have done more

  Kiel's right. I'm naïve.

  I decide, that since baking relaxed me on Wednesday, I'm going to bake every dang thing in this house. Until there is no flour, no sugar, no Crisco or butter of any kind in this house. Then I’ll freaking bake chicken if I have to.

  By the time Brisa wakes up, I have 48 cupcakes (red velvet with cream cheese icing and vanilla with chocolate mousse), 2 pans of brownies (with and without nuts), and peanut butter cookies. We have three overripe bananas setting out on the counter calling my name.

  “What the hell are you doing, Ash?” she grumbles, heading for the Keurig. I’ve already had three cups.

  “Baking,” I reply.

  “No, really,” she says sarcastically. “What are you doing?” Her accent isn’t so slight when she’s groggy. Her night went well. I can’t be jealous, though.

  I recount another tragic tale to Brisa. As of this August, I am a walking, talking PSA. Not a badge I wear proudly. If Brisa is correct, not very many people witnessed this latest horror. But it won’t stop those who did see from talking or Reyna from flaming the embers into raging pits of hell.

  The worst, though, is the part where Kiel ditched me in the parking lot.

  The only thing left to do is bake. A skinny pig would be as useless as trying to gag and tie up Reyna.

  So, I bake. I refuse to run out of supplies. I make a quick, fuzzy-slippered run to the local grocer (where everything just looks out of date) and am right back at it.

  By the time my parents arrive home from their respective jobs, I’ve added an apple pie, a cherry cobbler, a pile of fudge, and a pound cake complete with lemon icing dripping down its sides. They’re flabbergasted, then confused, and finally, deeply troubled.

  What can I say though that won’t have them bolting me in my room? That I’ve been manhandled by a member of the team who was drunk at a school function?

  Nope. Can’t do it.

  I shrug it off and ask Mom, “Can we do an impromptu bake sale for like orphans or the pregnancy hotline at church tomorrow?”

  “Um, sure, honey,” she says carefully, trying not to startle me, like a frightened animal. “Let me give Beth a call.” Mom actually backs out of the kitchen. Dad stares me down. But I can’t talk about it to him either. They’ll all think it was my fault, like I saw in Kiel’s whole demeanor.

  Starting to feel dirty instead of victimized, I wash all the dishes I’ve used by hand, bypassing the dishwasher. Brisa must’ve left to call in the troops because thirty minutes later, Jenna and D'Nae walk into our kitchen and group-hug me. Brisa ushers us to our room, promising to clean the bake-a-thon disaster.

  “That was not your fault. Don’t you dare blame yourself,” D'Nae says as soon as the door closes.

  “Dee’s right,” Jenna agrees. “You didn’t do anything wrong unless you count needing to empty your bladder.”

  “I know it’s not my fault, theoretically. I just feel helpless, then there’s the fallout, and disappointing my parents again.”

  “Do you honestly think they will be?” Jenna asks.

  “Seeing as this incident can be traced back to that one stupid party? Yes, I do think they would be.”

  “But it’s seriously not your fault,” D'Nae says again. “It’s not like you planned on provoking the Reyna beast. Because, really, that’s where this traces back to. What did you ever see in that witch?”

  “I don’t know. Everyone keeps asking me that. I never put any thought into it. We were always together in sports and Girl Scouts, whatever. Then I was her alibi when she snuck out. Our friendship just worked.” I shrug.

  “Yeah, until she wanted everything all to herself,” D'Nae states.

  “She totally used you.” Jenna says. “You two used to be the convenience store Twinkies, always together. But now she wants to be individually wrapped.”

  “That is strangely insightful,” I say.

  Even with all the feel-good talk and baking, I cannot get past the way Kiel looked at me or how Jackson was getting off on pinning me down.

  I try to explain to them again the way Kiel looked at me afterward. “He really seemed to think it was all my fault. He was so pissed, he left me. Who does that?”

  “Maybe he wasn’t mad at you?” D'Nae’s question lacks conviction. “Ok, well, no matter, girl. We got you. Do we need to smack some sense into him? Get him into a dark alleyway and—”

  “Take all his clothes off!” Jenna finishes with a squeal. We all dissolve into giggles.

  “Y’all are awesome friends. I'm glad I got cast out.”

  “Enough of this! Can we eat the brownies now?” Jenna asks.

  We go back to the kitchen where my mom is trying to package and wrap the baked goods.

  “Hold back some of each of the brownies for me, Mom,” I say.

  “And two cupcakes for me! And whatever else you guys want…” Jenna says and smiles at us.

  I introduce my friends to Mom, and they get invited to dinner. They also offer to come to church with me tomorrow and help sell. Their living arrangement is strange. D'Nae’s mom and Jenna’s dad are dating seriously, so they spend every weekend together.

  The rest of the day, we hang out. The next day, my madness in the kitchen garners nearly $500 in sales for the orphanage we support. The only leftover evidence of my break in sanity is a small box of brownies. A peace offering for Kiel. A brownie is worth a thousand words.

  Chapter 6

  Kiel

  Even after thinking about her all weekend, I'm not sure I know how to act around her after all that went down. It’s a small town. I could’ve found out where she lived and gone to check on her. That just seemed too forward, too personal, considering.

  So, here I am, walking toward her on Monday morning after walking away from her in the parking lot on what may have been the worst night of her life. Put that way, I've reached a new low, even for me.

  However, when she reaches me, she doesn’t brush me off or shoot eye darts at me. She hands me a small, white bakery box, tentatively like she’s afraid I’ll smack them out of her hand. Why the hell is she acting like she’s scared of me?

  I take the box. She gives me the tiniest of smiles. I'm damn sure my face shows my confusion at the gift. Her lips move, but no sounds emerge. OH! My ear buds. Removing one, I ask, “Say again?”

  “They’re walnut brownies. I made them from scratch.”

  “Ok,” I say, still confused. I return my ear bud to its place. Her face falls, but she picks herself up mentally by straightening her spine and lifting her chin.

  We start walking again. Something has her timid with me. Maybe because I'm a guy? Some newfound mistrust for the whole male species? The signs that she wan
ts to say something appear and I wait it out. She takes her time and finally speaks. Only I don’t hear her…again.

  “I didn’t catch that,” I tell her, my usual bit with the ear bud.

  “I just wanted to say thank you again and…and—I'm sorry,” she says, the last two words tumbling out in a whisper.

  I don’t know how to reply. She’s already thanked me, but why apologize? So, I nod. While situating my ear bud, I ponder the apology. Why? But who knows with girls? Right?

  Ashlyn’s fidgeting has gone berserk beside me. Her lips are pressed together ad her eyes narrow. I'm no expert, but a meteorologist might call this the perfect storm. Because her face is turning all kinds of red, seeping down to her neck. She’s seething mad.

  Without warning, she whips ahead of me and spins, facing me. I nearly plow into her. And in that second of bewilderment, she yanks the ear buds from my ears. She holds them in her fist in front of her like a poisonous snake.

  “Why? Why am I apologizing to you!” she yells. I can only shrug as she pokes me in the chest, hard. “Why?” she yells again.

  She starts poking me in the chest rhythmically. I start to back up. I'm not touching her until she’s calmed down.

  “You’re not the one who had her mouth mauled by a six-foot-tall sucker fish! You’re not the one who was pinned to the wall! You’re not the one finding suggestive picture of herself taped to her locker! You’re not the one—” At this point, I'm running out of sidewalk as she pokes and pokes with every other word or so. Her tears are soaking her cheeks and stuck to her eyelashes. “—who lost her best friends, her car, her phone, my position as co-captain, and, and…” She’s reduced to sobs and she stares blankly at her hand lying flat on my chest.

  She’s run out of tragedies., thankfully before I run out of sidewalk. I reach out to her and pull her in. I have no idea what has her taking this out on me, but I'm the only one here to comfort her. Ashlyn collapses into my chest and sobs, gulping in air. I tuck her head under my chin and we stand there.