Chapter 9 Easton
Easton
This isn’t as terrible as I thought it was going to be.
Don’t get me wrong—it’s terrible, a waste of time, boring. What I’m saying is, at least I’m not sitting in a jail cell somewhere, busted for a crime I was stupid enough to perform for guys at school who seem to have it in for me.
I was never going to win that dumb bet. Maddie Miller was never going out with me, and Aiden Tompkins knew it.
Dick.
So yes, being here is not as terrible as the alternative—though I’d obviously rather be sitting on my ass in my mom’s shed, digging up to my elbow in a bag of Flamin’ Hot Cheetos, or in the basement gaming with my friends.
Sighing, I give in and answer her question. “What do you want to know?”
“All the dirty details,” she says.
Jeez, how many different ways can I tell a story? I hesitate before answering, not sure where to begin. If I tell her the truth, is she going to make fun of me, the way Marcus and Gabe and Deshaun did when I lost the bet—or is she going to be cool about it?
Only one way to find out.
Still, I barely know this girl and what I do know is that she blows hot and cold. Some days she’s nice to me; other days she’s ready to snap my head off.
I pause, paintbrush hovering over the mostly red shield I just smattered with color.
It looks like total shit.
Like a toddler painted it.
She slowly casts her eyes downward and blinks, but for once, Harper Conrad doesn’t comment.
“Um. You were saying?” She is like a dog with a bone, unwilling to let this subject go. I know it as well as I know my name is Easton Dipshit Westermann.
Finally, I relent. “You know Aiden Tompkins?”
She nods. “He was in my IT class last semester.”
Sounds about right. He’s a massive nerd.
“He put all the seniors’ names in a database and picked two to pull the senior prank. Mine was drawn to steal the Parker Lane mascot.”
“Ahh. I did hear something about that.”
“Right. Well. Marcus went to bat for me since he’s a class officer, too. Aiden gave him an option: I could either take a dare he gave me or pull the prank. As long as I did the dare, I didn’t have to steal the rhino head.”
Harper’s paintbrush is suspended above her painting. “I take it you lost?”
“Lost big-time.” I cringe, knowing what question is coming next.
“What was it? The dare, I mean.”
I scrunch my face, dredging up the thought of the public humiliation that got me into this mess. “It was…it was about Maddie Miller, actually. I had to ask her on a date.”
I tell her about it—the memory I’ve been trying to suppress since Thursday night.
How I walked up to Maddie Miller at her locker and made an ass of myself in front of the student body.
Or at least the students who were lingering in the hallway at the end of the day; I timed asking her on the date so it was almost immediately after the bell for last period rang, ensuring her minions wouldn’t be loitering yet.
I had a small window of opportunity and blew it.
To make matters worse, I had a full audience while I was getting my nuts handed to me. Gabe and Marcus and Aiden Tompkins (asshole extraordinaire) were watching from a not-too-respectable distance so they would have visual proof I’d completed the task.
I almost shat my pants.
Walking from my locker to her locker, I felt like I had lead feet, while Maddie looked like a vision. A model. An angel in a blue floral sundress, braiding her hair as she filmed herself, cell phone affixed to the inside of her locker.
Her head snapped up as I approached, mouth downturned with concentration.
“Stop. Don’t interrupt me.” I recall her blunt salutation. It threw me off, and from there everything went downhill fast.
Naturally.
“Hey, Maddie.” I cleared my throat, then shifted my feet as I realized I’d just done exactly what she told me not to. Dammit.
She didn’t smile, but she didn’t tell me to piss off, either. It only occurred to me later that she was irritated I had the audacity to approach her while she was filming.
“Hey.”
Asking a girl on a date was far worse than being on the ice for the first game of the hockey season. Both make me want to barf.
“It’s Easton.” I almost held out my hand for her to shake but then pulled it back, stuffing both hands in my pockets to keep them occupied. “Easton Westermann.”
“I know.” She leaned forward, hitting the red button in the center of her cell, then spun around to look at me. “You’re in my chem class.”
Actually, I’m not.
I have zero classes with Maddie Miller. Never have had classes with Maddie, never even close to it—but when we were younger, we played on the swings together and the occasional game of playground tag. Back in the day, we were little buddies, as most kids were in elementary school.
Pals.
Still, I didn’t contradict her. Who was I to tell her I wasn’t in her chemistry class? I didn’t want to embarrass her.
Nervous sweat collected around my T-shirt neck and pits, and if I hadn’t moved the dare along I would’ve had drops of it dripping down my forehead, too. She already thought I was a loser—a puddle at my feet wouldn’t help things.
“So. Uh.” Fuck. “How’s it going?”
That? That right there was everything wrong with the world, me and my babbling, brainless question. How’s it going?
Eff my life. Seriously, eff it.
I glanced over my shoulder at that moment, at my friends—all of them transfixed by the sight of Maddie Miller leaning with her back to her locker, blond hair hanging in a thick rope over her tan, smooth skin.
Marcus, that idiot, dropped his jaw, adding to my insecurity, utter humiliation rolling over me as they watched my comedy act unfold onstage.
“How’s it going?” Maddie rolls her eyes. “Good.”
I’m no body language expert, but hers was screaming someone come rescue me from this loser.
“So like. I know we don’t know each other that well—but like, I thought maybe it would be nice to, you know. Go to a movie or something? Uh. Together.”
Now I had her attention. She stood up straighter, finally looking me in the eye rather than rolling hers.
“Together. Like a date?”
I nodded, shoulders slouching in relief. She understood. She’d figured it out without my having to explain.
“Yes.”
She laughed, tipping her head back. “No.”
Just no, followed by the slamming of her locker.
All the scenarios I’d thought might happen, happened:
She laughed in my face.
She said no without hesitating.
After she slammed her locker, she walked away just like in the movies.
My friends saw it all.
I was publicly humiliated.
So yeah.
Fun times, but that’s the way the rubber ball bounces: with me getting slapped in the fucking face.
“Blah blah blah, long story short, I am now Harper Conrad’s little bitch boy.”
I wait for Harper’s reaction. She’s been listening quietly the whole time I’ve been speaking.
She stares at me slack-jawed, her expression so similar to Marcus’s I almost wince.
“Bro,” she breathes. “I am so sorry. That sounds…”
Awful? Humiliating? I don’t let her finish. “It was.”
“Also. Please don’t ever call yourself my bitch boy.”
“But it’s true.” I scoff. “I am.”
I wouldn’t be here otherwise.
Harper puts a hand on the paintbrush I’m holding, stopping me from squirting more paint onto the paper plate.
“The last thing you need is more red.” She gives her head a shake.
“Also. You listen to me right now, Easton Westermann. If Maddie Miller was dumb enough to turn you down, that is her problem. She’s the one missing out.
” She removes her hand from the brush and leans back on her haunches.
“I can see on your face that you’re humiliated, but you did nothing wrong.
” She lowers her voice, growing quiet and less fierce.
“I would give anything to have a guy ask me on a date, and if she can’t appreciate it when it does happen, shame on her. ”
Shame on Maddie?
Harper is so dramatic.
“Marcus says she’s told people she doesn’t date anyone in high school,” I add.
Harper snorts. “That is a total truckload of crap.”
Eh?
“What are you saying?” I need her to spell it out for me.
She sighs loud enough for me to flinch. “Did you not know she dated Calvin Uchie over the summer?”
Cal Uchie?
He’s on the soccer team. Lanky but tall, damn good footballer and also: a high school sophomore at Parker Lane. One more reason to steal their ugly-ass rhino head.
I scratch my head. “Are you sure?”
Harper nods. “Positive.”
I can’t decide if she’s taking pleasure in telling me this or if she’s merely sharing information because she’s a know-it-all, but it stings that Maddie would say she doesn’t date anyone in high school when she dated Cal.
Allegedly.
I have no way of knowing unless I ask my friends or Calvin himself, and there is no way I would stoop that low. Plus, what difference does it make? Maddie clearly has no interest in going out with me, and that’s fine.
It’s fine.
She can date who she wants.
Whatever.
I’ve moved on. I lost a dare and now have to humiliate myself by using glitter and cutting out cardboard people for a dance I had no intention of going to.
“Maybe she only dated him because he has colleges looking at him already and she was into the clout,” Harper suggests quietly, but her musing doesn’t make me feel better.
“Maybe.” I don’t point out the fact that colleges were looking at me, too, and I’m playing for one when we graduate.
“Well,” she says after a long pause. “Your secret is safe with me. I won’t repeat what you told me. I promise.”
I groan. She sounds like she’s making a pact with me, and the last thing I need is more friends, let alone one who’s a meddling, blackmailing girl.
What’s next, friendship bracelets?
Not a chance.
“Hey. The good news is you didn’t get caught and outed as a thief,” Harper says. “You had a momentary public humiliation, but at least the security cameras at school didn’t catch you hoisting the mascot up the flagpole.”
I smile a little at that. Facts. I’m lucky as hell.
The rhino head being hung in the courtyard at school caused an uproar with administration—mostly because adults are so sensitive about that shit—and the principal called an all-school assembly to lecture us about it. Threatened to expel whoever had done it, blah blah blah. I wanted to throw up.
“Can you believe Callahan kept harping on about how much mascot costumes cost, as if anyone cares?” Harper lets out a soft, ladylike snort. “Please, how much could it possibly have been? He was making it seem like it cost ten grand.”
Of course, she has to be on my side—she drove my getaway car.
“Yeah. He’s pretty humiliated.” I pause. “Considering the seniors pull this prank every year, you’d think he’d be way cooler about it.”
Harper laughs, a sound that’s both infectious and comforting.
“You’re right. But maybe next year the senior prank should be something a little less conspicuous and more creative. The mascot thing is getting old.”
Why do I feel a strange sense of camaraderie with her?
I shrug. “Yeah, maybe.”
Harper smiles. “And I know you feel bad about Maddie rejecting you, but just remember—we’ve all had crushes on people who didn’t like us back.”
Does she mean herself? “Oh yeah? Like who?”
She grins. “That’s a secret I’ll never tell.”