Pretty Crooked, page 5
“Really?” I asked, shocked. I had a hard time imagining the friendly, elegant girl I’d been shopping with being mean to Cherise, let alone participating in a schoolyard brawl. “And now everything’s cool?”
She nodded. “Well, that was a long time ago. We all grew up. Some of us more than others, I guess. Not the people posting on that site.”
I had an idea. “What if we did something to get it shut down, like report the mean stuff?”
“Someone tried that last year, but as soon as it got shut down by the headmaster, another site just like it popped up. They can’t really control this kind of thing. People are going to talk no matter what—this just gives them an easy outlet.” Cherise sighed. “Look, Willa, don’t worry. That post was just some random loser. Not everyone at Prep is like that.”
“I hope not,” I said, meeting her eyes. I really hoped not. Everything had been going so well. I’d just started to feel at home here. I would hate to think I’d walked right into some kind of lion’s den.
“Just ignore it. Everyone really likes you. You’re different, you know? In a good way. Kellie invited you to her party, right? She doesn’t just give out invitations to everybody.”
I smiled, letting the flattery wash over me. Was that true about Kellie, or was Cherise just trying to make me feel better? She wouldn’t make it up, would she?
Did it even matter? I had Cherise on my side, and that felt good.
“Now, to a more important question,” she said, sashaying around so that her silk cowl-neck tee fluttered. “What are you wearing on Saturday?”
CHAPTER FIVE
“YO!”
It was a guy’s voice, deep and commanding. I was hunched over my bike, trying to unlock it from the rack in the parking lot. The afternoon sun was like a laser singeing my back, and I was already feeling a little flustered and a little wilted at the end of a long school day.
When I turned around, I saw that a silver Porsche Boxster had pulled up in front of me. The guy stuck his head out the window and the shag of hair caught my eye first. Then the tanned elbow. My eyes traveled upward again. It was Aidan. With that grin of his.
Oh boy.
Was that my face flushing, or was it just the sun?
“You’re flat.”
What the…? Now my face definitely burned. Mortifying.
Yeah, my chest was a work in progress, I knew that—but, wait, what about him, how dare he?
“I’m really—” I gasped, pulling my bike out of the rack, about to launch into an attack.
Losing my mind.
Because I suddenly noticed what he was talking about. The front tire was sagging. “Oh man.”
“You’ve gotta take care of that.”
Okay, so this had nothing to do with my boobs. That was good. Flat tire, not so much. I chewed on my thumbnail, trying to gather my composure and think. I could probably ride it home, I reasoned. It was only a couple of miles.
He had put his car in park, with the blinkers on, so that now it was clogging up the lane. It was the end of the school day on a Friday, and other cars were forming a line behind him, understandably eager to get out of Valley Prep’s parking lot and start their weekends. But Aidan had already hopped out of the driver’s seat, leaving his car door open and blocking anyone from going around him. He knelt down beside me on the pavement.
“It’s okay. Maybe you should just move the car,” I said firmly, but my insides were like mattress springs. For some reason, Aidan had a way of making me extremely nervous, like I was going to spaz out at any moment. “People are waiting. Seriously, I don’t need help. I got it.”
“But you can’t ride this home.” He moved closer to the bike and I involuntarily drew in a breath. Touching my bike was like touching me.
I looked around. A few more cars had pulled up.
He leaned in and hunched over the front wheel, detaching it from the frame. His hands were broad, his fingers skillful and quick. He knew his way around the anatomy. I watched him, at first, with a sense of awe.
But wait a minute…
I never let anyone mess with my bike. It was an antique. It was my only means of freedom. And like I said before, it was my most prized possession.
Paging brain control. You’re losing it here.
“What the hell are you doing?” I blurted as I snapped out of my reverie.
“I’m giving you a ride home, dummy.”
He carried the wheel and the frame toward his car and popped open the trunk. Then he pushed down the backseat to make more room.
“No, thanks,” I said, following close behind. “I’d rather ride.”
He put the frame in the trunk and set the wheel beside it. “Bike safety one-oh-one. Riding on a flat is no joke. You can permanently damage your rims—or get killed. Nope. Not on my watch.”
The girl in the Jeep behind us started honking her horn. Then two more cars beeped, too. Within seconds, a whole orchestra of cars was sounding.
“Well, new girl, it looks like you’re about to piss off the entire student population,” he said, and hopped in the driver’s seat. He patted the passenger seat. “C’mon, don’t make me beg.”
I was pretty sure I’d figured this kid out the other day. And Cherise had confirmed my suspicions about him. He was bad news with a dollar sign for an s. But now what choice did I have? He was right. I couldn’t afford to screw up my bike. I took one more look over my shoulder. The girl in the Jeep was holding her hand down on the horn and simultaneously sticking her head out the window, looking like she might just gun it and mow me down. So I got in next to him, reluctantly.
He turned to me and smiled—not the grin this time, just a standard-issue sweet smile, and I softened. No doubt about it. Aidan had some serious genetic gifts.
“Sorry about that,” he said, steering the car out of the lot with the heel of his hand. “My usual car has a bike rack, but it’s in the shop right now. I’ve been having some transmission issues.”
“So this is your backup?” I asked, half joking, but also half impressed. The sheer wealth of VP kids was still a source of wonder.
“My dad’s,” he said, shrugging. “He’s got a whole collection but this is the only one he’ll let me drive.”
“Of cars?” I gave him the side-eye.
“Of Porsches.” Naturally. “Where to?”
Did I really want him to know where I lived? I thought for a minute of giving him a fake address or letting him drop me off at a mini-mart or something. But then, he seemed pretty harmless. Besides the killer eyes and the public disturbances, of course. A quick risk-to-attractiveness analysis told me to go with it. “I’m on Morning Glory Road.”
“Out past the golf club? I think I know where that is.” He reached down and turned up the stereo, which was already blaring Queens of the Stone Age, the reissued first album—I knew this because I’d downloaded it myself a few weeks earlier. Then he shifted gears abruptly and the car jerked forward, throwing me back against the leather seat. “That’s a funky bike you’ve got there.”
“Thanks. I hope you didn’t break it.”
“Nah. I know what I’m doing. I worked at Cadence Cycle a couple summers ago.”
That surprised me. “You did repairs? Like with your hands?”
“No, I hired a migrant worker to do that part.” He looked at me with a smirk. “Of course I did it with my hands. So if you ever need help, you know who to call.”
“Thanks,” I said, looking down at my own hands and twisting them around in my lap. Nerves I’d never felt before thrummed through them. “But I usually do my own tune-ups and stuff.”
“Nice. I like a girl with a good work ethic.” He’d put on mirrored aviators so that now he looked like a NASCAR driver, minus the jumpsuit. Forget his mind-blowing hotness—I was having a hard time taking him seriously. Wouldn’t anybody? “So, how do you like Valley Prep so far? Just so you know, I’ve put a halt to my stunts so that you could settle in.”
“Gee, thanks,” I said, holding back a grin. “VP is okay, I guess.”
“Just okay, huh? What, you’re too cool for us, Miss Colorado?”
“How’d you know where I’m from?”
“Word gets around,” he said, and when our eyes met, I could feel the smile I’d been fighting spreading across my face. He was talking about me? To other people?
“I’m not too cool. I just—” My phone was buzzing. “Hang on. I have a call.”
I answered, cupping my hand to my ear to hear over Aidan’s music.
“Willa, mmmhereem.”
“Who?” I yelled.
“It’s mmmerehrm.” The voice was tiny and muffled.
“Who?”
“It’s me. Your mother?”
“Mom! It’s so loud—I couldn’t hear.” I glared at Aidan, hoping he would turn the music down. When he didn’t, I reached over to do it myself. He slapped at my hand. Jerk! I had to completely plug my other ear closed with my finger to try to make out what she was saying.
“Where are you?” she asked.
“Oh, nowhere.” I didn’t know how to explain in a simple way that I was getting a ride from a guy. “On my way home from school.”
“Are you in a car?”
“Yeah. It’s a friend’s.”
“C’mon, Willa,” Aidan shouted. “Tell her the truth about us.”
I gestured vehemently, slicing my hand across my mouth to tell Aidan to shut up.
“Who’s that?” she asked. “Who’s with you?”
“No one,” I said. “Just some guy.”
“Some guy?” Aidan chided. “Come on. Is that all I am to you?”
“Mom, I—”
“What’s going on?” she asked.
“This guy’s just being stupid,” I said. “It’s just a stupid joke.”
“Who is he?” She sounded worried, her tiny voice straining inside the speaker.
Aidan was making kissy faces at me, and I wanted to punch him. This wasn’t cool. Flirting was one thing. But this wasn’t flirting … it was just douchery.
“Mom, I’ll be home in a few minutes.”
“Tell her I said bye!” Aidan called out as I was hanging up.
“What do you think you’re doing?” I demanded, staring him down.
“I’m entertaining you on the ride home.”
“You’re freaking out my mom is what you’re doing.”
“Aw, I gave her a little thrill.” He glanced at me, and then back at the windshield. “Besides, is your mom that freak-outable?”
“Maybe she is.”
“I doubt it. I can’t picture someone like you having a prissy mom.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Was it a compliment or an insult? How exactly did he define “someone like me”? I was afraid to look at him in case the answer was on his face.
“You know, tough chicks. Chicks with attitude. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. I bet your mom is one of those cool young single moms. Am I right?”
Of course he was right, but I didn’t have to let him have the satisfaction of knowing that. “Not at all,” I muttered, though my anger was softening. How’d this guy know so much? Was he an armchair clairvoyant, too? “Make a right here.”
Aidan braked suddenly and veered onto my street, so quickly I could hear gravel hitting the wheels. He’d almost swerved into a neighbor’s agave plant. I yelped.
He pulled the car into the driveway next to my mom’s.
“Next time give me a little more warning,” he said.
I went eye to eye with him. “Next time don’t mess with my mom.”
“Next time don’t make it so easy for me, and I won’t.”
“Hate to break it to you, but I don’t know if there’s gonna be a next time,” I said. “Your driving scares the daylights out of me.”
“We’ll have to work on that.” Then he flashed me another grin.
I leapt out of the front seat and went to pull open the trunk to retrieve my bike. In my mind I had the ending to the scene planned out—I would play it cool, haul out my bike, shut the door, and dash off toward my house, not looking back at him for one second. Let him wonder.
But the perfectly scripted drama in my head had to make way for reality because the stupid trunk was locked. And Aidan was fumbling around inside, looking for the driver’s-side button. Which he couldn’t find. Because it wasn’t his car. So I had to wait for him to finally turn off the engine, unbuckle his seat belt, open the door, and mosey around to where I was standing. He handed me the pieces of my bike, still smiling.
“Do you want me to fix that flat for you? I could probably just take it back to the shop and replace the tire,” he asked.
“No, I can patch it myself.” I held the bike against my body like a shield. I was all out of sorts now—nervous and confused—and I wanted him to leave before I did something embarrassing.
“Okay, Colorado, I get the message. You’re on a DIY kick,” he said, holding up his now-empty hands in defense as he walked in reverse back to the driver’s side. “You’ll let me know when you need my assistance.”
“Will do,” I said, nodding. My lips were pressed together in what I hoped was a sardonic expression but they were just barely holding my face together. Underneath I was a jumble of jelly. How did that happen?
“You’re welcome for the ride,” he called out the window.
He sped out of the driveway, the music and his tires squealing in unison—leaving me in front of my new house, watching him go and wondering what he was thinking. Was this all in a day’s work for Aidan? Did he go around rescuing girls on bikes all the time? Why was I so flustered?
And why am I still standing out here? I thought. Not only had Aidan left me with a bike in pieces. Somehow, the guy had managed to sneak away with my cool.
CHAPTER SIX
I BURST THROUGH the front door, ready to tell my mom everything. But once inside, I could hear her voice, obviously talking on the phone. I followed the trail across stacks of broken-down cardboard boxes to the kitchen, where she was bent over the counter, dressed in jeans and a flowy white blouse, speaking into her mobile phone in a low tone and writing something on a piece of paper.
“Are you sure? Okay… Yes, I’ve got it…” She looked at me quickly and then back to the pad of paper. “Yes, thanks for the information. Thank you. I’ll be in touch.”
She hung up in a hurry and ran a hand through her hair, frowning—not her usual expression when greeting me. And, I noticed, there were no cookies, no smoothie, no snacks to speak of. She must have been busy in the studio zone.
“Who was that?” I asked.
She folded up the paper into eighths and put it into her pocket. “Oh, just an organization, a local group I was hoping to volunteer with. They give art lessons to poor kids.”
“That sounds cool,” I said. She had always used her free time to volunteer, wherever we were living. She believed in giving back—that was a big thing she was always going on about, how important it was to participate in the community. “Are you gonna do it?”
“Maybe. Probably. I need to think about it.” She straightened herself up and slipped her phone into her pocket. She inhaled, then exhaled a long slow stream of air. “Sorry I don’t have any snacks prepared. It’s been a busy day. I meant to go to the market but just never got there. I haven’t eaten anything myself, now that I think about it. How was school?”
“School was good. Classes are good,” I said, swinging my bag over a kitchen chair. I opened the refrigerator, scrounging for something to drink, but we were all out of juice. She handed me a glass and I poured myself some water from the refrigerator door. I flopped down at the table and sighed happily. “It’s all pretty much … great, actually.”
I was as surprised as anyone. Usually my mom had to give me a few pep talks in the beginning of a school year. Reminding me how I’d adapted to Searchlight and Corvallis and Eastsound and Sandpoint just fine. Only now it seemed like she was only half listening as she stared in my direction—or was she looking behind me?
“Great…” she echoed. “So who was the guy in the car? Someone from school, right? I hope you weren’t just riding with a stranger.”
I turned behind me to see what she was looking at, but there was nothing. “Yeah, no. It was just this kid Aidan.”
Just this kid. Um, yeah. He was much more than that in my brain already, but once I said it out loud that would make it a thing, a thing I was going to have to get all freaky and obsessive about. No, playing it down was a better idea.
“Is that the guy you were talking about the other day? I believe your word was ‘intense.’”
I nodded, picturing him leaning out of his car in the parking lot, picturing him expertly handling my bike. My breath caught in my throat a little. Okay, Willa. Calm down. “He’s kind of the poster child for arrogant, sexy sons of CEOs.”
I told her the story. But by then, a few minutes had gone by and whatever outrage I’d had about my bike, the phone, his cockiness, had dissolved somewhat, so it was not as convincing as I hoped it might be. In fact, it all sounded a little silly, especially because I was smiling the whole time and feeling like I was going to burst.
My mom was standing there with her arms folded, watching me but not smiling at all. “Well, he sounds like a flirt. Just be careful.”
This wasn’t exactly the reaction I was hoping for. Laughter, yes. Sympathy, maybe. I wrapped my fingers around my glass. “That’s his reputation, yeah.”
“I just don’t want you to get hurt.”
She almost looked like she was scolding me. But for what? This was strange. She’d never been that overprotective in the past. She’d always encouraged me to go out and make friends. And this town seemed as safe and crime-free as they came. Then again, maybe the whole guy thing just made her uncomfortable.
“I don’t even like this guy, so there’s nothing for you to worry about. I just thought it was funny.” I picked up my glass and put it in the sink. “Should I go see what’s on pay-per-view later?”
“No, don’t bother. I actually have to be somewhere tonight.” Her eyes darted around the room as if she was looking for a cue card to read from. “There’s a meeting for the natural foods co-op. I was thinking about joining.”
