Freshman Year #2
Just when I thought the day couldn't get any worse, he drops this bomb on me.
I knew what I was doing back home when I started messing around and competing in local rodeos behind my dad's back.
I knew he'd be furious if he found out I was riding bulls.
I've grown up riding horses. Horses are in my blood, but bull riding is a taboo sport in my house.
My father doesn't have many hard limits, except that one, and I crossed it multiple times.
Disobeying him got me exactly what I'd been hoping for: exile.
But this complication I hadn't planned on.
"How ugly it gets depends on you," he says, squeezing my shoulder. "Victory always has a price, but few are willing to sacrifice. Asha won't go down without a fight."
That makes the corners of my lips turn up stupidly. Of course she won't. I wouldn't expect anything less.
My cleats squelch against the damp earth with each step as I pull off my gloves and stuff them into my helmet and ask, "Why do people call her the ice queen? Is she a mean girl?"
Hollis wipes sweat from his forehead, leaving a streak of dirt across his temple.
"No, she's not mean…per se. Asha Fairfield is a one-woman show.
" He shrugs. "Well, I guess she has Emma now.
Asha let her stick around for some reason.
But mean, nah. She's not mean; she's a force.
The girl is smart as hell—maybe too smart for her own good, if you ask me. "
We pause as two of the guys jog past us toward the stables, and Hollis shifts his weight, favoring his left leg. He probably pulled something during the last chukker.
"Most of her classes are advanced," he adds, his tone fairer. "If she's not in the library, working on assignments, or jumping her Thoroughbred, she's volunteering. It's nothing bad. She just keeps to herself."
"So, you call her the ice queen because she's a smart snob who doesn't bother to pencil in making friends into her schedule." I adjust the mallet slung over my shoulder.
"You left out hot in your list of adjectives.
" He holds his hands in front of him, palms up.
"Look, I know it sounds mean and maybe even a little discriminatory, but it is what it is.
If she has a friend list, I probably fall on that list. She knows what people say about her, and she's fine wearing the crown.
" He shrugs. "The girl likes to be alone. "
The sound of our footsteps on the gravel path fills the silence as we start walking again.
"You said she probably considers you a friend. Why?"
Hollis stops dead in his tracks, and a slow grin spreads across his face.
"Well, for starters, she's my cousin."
How did I not know this? I'm a details guy, always have been. I pride myself on picking up on connections, on reading between the lines. I feel like I would have caught this earlier. Then again, they don't share the same last name, and I haven't had a reason to bring her up until today.
"She's going to be pissed when she finds out I'm not the nominee," Hollis says as he starts walking again, his stride a little more confident after successfully blindsiding me.
"Why is that?" I ask, jogging slightly to catch up.
"Today, after algebra, she cornered me in the hallway and asked me to run against her for student council."
"Why would she do that?"
"She heard the rumors like everyone else. If they were going to make jocks run, she wanted the candidate to be someone she knew wouldn't want it.”
Great. I've just earned another reason for her to hate me.
"Any idea why she blasted me with a milkshake?" I ask, leaving out the part about how, in that moment, she could have recognized me.
I should tell him that I know Asha, but that wouldn't be the whole truth, because I don't. Not really.
We met once, when we were six. I could tell him that my family's property neighbors hers, and that according to six-year-old Asha, we're sworn enemies due to some decades-old family feud.
But I don't, because none of those things justifies what she did today, and when the time comes that I tell Hollis how I know Asha and why I went out of my way to get sent to this school, it won’t be like this, clueless of his connection with her and smelling of pungent strawberries.
"You don't have any classes with her?" he asks, rubbing the back of his neck.
"No, at least not today. That could change tomorrow with block scheduling."
"Then I'm going to say it probably has something to do with the mud stains on her uniform. You're the only student who drove to campus today."
I furrow my brow until the pieces click into place.
I'm the only one who didn't have a dorm ready before school started.
I had to drive. The mud stains splattered across her pristine uniform were there because of me.
Because I'd been careless, probably speeding through puddles in the parking lot like some kind of entitled asshole.
Shit.
We reach the locker room doors, the familiar scent of teenage desperation wafting out as Hollis pulls them open. But I barely notice. My mind is spinning as I try to process everything that has just been laid out for me.
Asha Fairfield wasn't just some ice queen who threw milkshakes for sport.
She was Hollis's cousin, and just because their relation is news to me, doesn't mean my name hasn't come up in one of their conversations.
It's possible my attendance isn't news to her.
Asha is smart enough to manipulate student council elections before they even happened, resourceful enough to track down the source of her ruined uniform, and apparently vindictive enough to exact immediate revenge.
And I have managed to piss her off before we've even officially met—well, at least for the second time.
The worst part about all of this is I'm actually impressed, even if it's at the expense of my own discomfort.
It took balls to corner someone in broad daylight and nail them with a milkshake in front of an audience.
It took a complete disregard for social consequences that I can't help but admire, even with the scent of strawberry still clinging to my skin.
Hollis was right about one thing: she isn't mean.
Mean implies petty cruelty without purpose.
What Asha did was calculated justice, swift and public, and probably exactly proportional to the offense in her mind.
She'd made me look like an idiot because I'd made her look like one first, even if it had been an accident.
Ice queen. The nickname doesn't sound fitting to me.
Ice is predictable. It freezes and then it melts, following the laws of physics.
What I'm dealing with is something far more dangerous and infinitely less predictable.
Asha Fairfield isn't ice. She is pure, undiluted trouble wrapped in a pristine uniform and armed with a smile that could probably convince teachers to give her extra credit while she plotted their downfall.
And I'm starting to suspect that getting on her bad side is going to be the most interesting mistake I'll make in a very long time. Because I'd rather be on her bad side than no side at all. At least this way, she knows I exist.
"Is this AP Biology?" I ask one of the students in the first row as I check the slip of paper in my hand one more time.
She peers up at me, annoyance plastered across her face for having to look up from her phone. "Yes," she clips out, only to do a double take and put on a smile. "I’m Emma. Are you new here?” She leans forward, flipping her phone over. “I don't think I've seen you around campus before."
"Yeah," I answer plainly before making my way to the back of the class and putting as much distance between me and her as possible.
She was rude and then tried to fake charm after noting that I was new on campus.
I could tell by the way she batted her eyelashes and changed her tone that she was interested.
That's not me being vain; that's just me being able to spot a wolf in sheep's clothing.
A genuinely kind person isn't only nice when it's convenient.
As I take my seat and watch the class fill up, I note who's not here. It’s my second day and last class of block scheduling, which also means it's my last shot at having a class with Asha. Hollis said she takes all AP classes, and this is the only advanced course I’m taking this semester.
I tap my pen against the desk, my eyes now zeroed in on the motion, perturbed that we’re not sharing any classes together, when suddenly a flyer is slammed down on my desk.
The bright-yellow paper reads: Your Freshman Student Body Elects Trigger Hale and Asha Fairfield. Who will have your vote, New Energy or Experience that Works?
Damn! That was fast. I was literally selected less than twenty-four hours ago.
"Do you want to win?" she asks, her words pulling my eyes away from the flyer to hers.
Do I want to win? Not necessarily. I know exactly why she haunts every corner of my mind. It's the same reason I'm sitting in this chair and now running against her. Because any attention from Asha Fairfield is better than being invisible to her, even if it means she hates me.
Before I can even process what my answer would be, the classroom door swings open, and Mrs. Chen walks in, her heels clicking against the linoleum.
"Seats, everyone! Quickly now!" She claps her hands twice, and Asha shoots me one last dark glare before retreating to her own chair.
Mrs. Chen waits at the front, arms crossed, until the noise settles and everyone has taken a seat.
"Good afternoon," she begins, adjusting her glasses.
"I know you're all eager to dig into the class curriculum, but before we do, the administration has a special project to introduce.
One that will span your entire high school career.
And if you're wondering…yes, it's mandatory, and yes, it counts toward your graduation requirements. "