14. Ashlynn
14
ASHLYNN
The drive to school is quiet at first, the morning sun casting long shadows on the road. I steal glances at him, taking in the determined set in his jaw, the way the sunlight catches the light freckles across his nose and cheeks, giving him a boyish charm that contrasts his otherwise serious demeanor.
He’s dressed in his usual professional attire — a shirt, slacks, and a jacket. The tailored fit of his clothes highlights his athletic but slightly lean physique. I glance down at my own outfit — jeggings and a gray t-shirt. My attire is as under-the-radar as it gets. Gilbert’s will turn heads and get tongues wagging.
“If it helps,” he begins, breaking the silence, his voice still carrying that morning roughness that makes my heart skip a beat, “Russ had a view choice words.”
I’m playing with the ends of my French braid, pausing mid-action. “Good. You should listen to him more.”
“They weren’t directed at me, they were directed at your principal,” he continues. “He says you’ve been alienated at Bluegrass High School. And that, despite their zero tolerance stance on bullying, no one has stepped in.”
I shrug, looking out the window. “I’m not being bullied.”
“There’s more than one way to bully someone, Ashlynn.” His voice is softer now, almost hesitant. “It’s not always physical. Sometimes it’s psychological.”
“Do I look like a victim to you?” I lift a hand before he can respond. “Don’t answer that. I already told you I don’t have friends there. That’s by choice and doesn’t make me a victim.”
“Russ also said that students like Leland act the way they do because the school unofficially endorses their behavior. And that it starts all the way at the top.”
I swallow hard. Despite the underlying frustration in his tone, I detect hints of concern for my wellbeing. I don’t want to admit it, but a part of me is scared. Not just of students like Leland, but also of how right Gilbert is.
If only he knew the half of it…
I don’t tell him how many times I’ve been called to Principal Richardson’s office for my lack of school spirit. Or the times the guidance counselor not-so-subtly implied that my lack of extracurriculars would severely hurt my chances of getting into any of the top universities befitting my genius.
Never mind that I’m top in my class, have a perfect GPA, and have always been clear that Bayard Ballet Conservatory is the only school I’m interested in. For people who don’t get it, stuff like that goes in one ear and comes right out the other.
The fact that I am, as Principal Richardson so eloquently phrased it, ‘selfish with my talents’ doesn’t sit well with her, the staff, or the rest of the student body. After all, I have all this talent, so why not join the cheer squad? Or science club? Chess? Anything that ties my notoriety to that of Bluegrass High School, preferably in ways that boost their ranking and reputation as one of the best public high schools in the school district. When, not if, I win academic awards for the school, those are just bonus points.
I haven’t even told Aunt Bonnie a fraction of this because she’ll have a conniption over it. Then she’ll sue them into oblivion. I, on the other hand, just want to keep my head down and graduate in peace. But I refuse to be a victim, so I keep meticulous records of these conversations. Memos, recordings, that sort of thing. One never knows when those could come in handy.
That, and I know it’s not me, my brains, or my talents that Bluegrass is interested in — it’s the millions I got from the settlement. And the millions I continue to get until I turn twenty-two. Or Aunt Bonnie finds some other gotcha loophole to keep it going. Bluegrass wants a piece of that pie, and they’re not getting it. Not if Aunt Bonnie has something to say about it. She sure has plenty to say about the things she does know about, and I’m sure Gilbert will too.
I sigh, feeling a mix of gratitude and frustration. “Leland has a rap sheet a mile long. He was probably arrested on the scene because he had done this before at the house. He was young and stupider then, and that landed him in juvenile detention.”
“What did he do?”
“Enough. Two years ago, Aunt Bonnie sued his parents for criminal trespass and destruction of property. I know she didn’t do it for the money. She wanted to send a message to the other parents since nothing else was getting through — not even the clear-cut boundaries or the beefed-up security system. Not even the word No. A few students claiming to be my friends kept forcing their way into the house despite Mrs. Torres’s objections, and their parents weren’t doing anything about it. Leland was the biggest offender. It didn’t help that he fancied himself my boyfriend.”
Be grateful that someone’s giving you a little attention.
Frigid bitch. You’re gonna ruin my son’s future over one little mistake?
His life is over. Happy now?
“Was he your boyfriend?” Gilbert asks, but his tone isn’t accusatory.
Still, I pin him with a look. “I don’t have time for boy friends. Emphasis on boy. Anyway, he tried to get in when no one was home, and when that didn’t work, he broke a window, thrashed the yard, and then some. The whole thing was caught on video, the security company called 911, and it snowballed from there. Aunt Bonnie sued, and his dad settled out of court. Part of the deal was Leland went to juvie.”
“Why is he out?”
“Because he served out his sentence.” A joke, I might add. He might as well have gotten off with a slap on the wrist and, to add insult to injury, an atta-boy from Principal Richardson.
“What I mean is, why is he back at your high school?”
Another sigh. “Because.”
Let bygones be bygones , Principal Richardson said to me on the first day of the semester. Even criminals are entitled to an education .
I must have said that last part out loud because Gilbert answers with a, “Not at Bluegrass, he isn’t. Does Bonnie know?”
I shrug, trying to appear nonchalant. “I haven’t told her yet.”
She’ll find out eventually. The first chance he gets, Gilbert will fill her in.
I try not to worry about the things outside my control. Leland is supposed to stay away from me. I go out of my way to avoid him. That worked for a few months because he barely showed up to school. Knowing he’s back to his old tricks brings me little comfort. But since he clearly did not learn his lesson the first time, what will happen now will happen, and he has no one to blame but himself.
Although, there’s no doubt in my mind that it’ll be spun in a way that makes it my fault.
We pull up to the school, and Gilbert parks right in the front — where everyone walking by can see us. Once they do, they’ll draw their own conclusions from this… and none of it will be good.
I place my hand on the door handle, and he sets his hand on my shoulder, halting my movements. “You know,” he says slowly, “you don’t have to do this alone. I’m here for you, Ashlynn. Whatever you need.”
I swallow hard, his voice and touch triggering something warm and fluttery in the pit of my stomach. “Russ usually uses the drop-off zone,” I say instead.
“Good thing I’m not Russ.”
Therein lies the issue.
“People might get the wrong idea about this.” And about us , I want to add, but stop the words in time.
“Those people can go fuck themselves,” he says, his voice softening but still firm. “I really, really don’t care about other people’s opinions, Ashlynn. I only care what you think. Your wants. Your needs. Your wellbeing. Your thoughts. Your safety. Your career. Those come first, always.”
I turn to look at him, really look at him, and the intensity in his stormy blue-gray eyes sends a jolt through me. There’s something in his gaze, a mix of concern, fear, and something deeper that makes my heart ache.
My gaze drops to his hand on my shoulder, then lifts to meet his. “Aren’t you worried about hints of impropriety?”
He shakes his head, the corner of his lip tipping slightly upward.
“Thank you,” I whisper, my voice almost breaking. “That means a lot.”
“Anytime.” He gives my shoulder a gentle squeeze, but doesn’t move to take his hand off my person.
When he does things like this, it makes me wonder… perhaps this isn’t as one-sided as I thought. There’s an undeniable attraction on my part, a magnetic pull toward him that I’m finding increasingly difficult to ignore with each passing day. I know where that line is, I’m certain he knows where that line is… and yet, the way he looks at me, like now, has me questioning the latter. The way my traitorous body reacts to his presence throws my heart into a tangled mess of emotions.
Maybe it’s him.
He intrigues me. He’s a stormy sea that I want to dive into despite the danger. Despite the giant warning labels.
I open the door and step out, his hand falling off my shoulder. After adjusting the straps of my backpack on my shoulders, I pause, looking back at him with a small, wistful smile.
“I’ll see you tonight,” I say.
With my head held high, I walk towards the school entrance with a grace that feels like a fragile shield. I can feel his eyes on me long after I disappear inside.