Ella's Twisted Senior Year(21)
I sit up and try to shrug off the feelings that have manifested all throughout my heart as Ella stares at me like I’m some kind of monster.
“We can’t do this.” Her lip trembles as she looks around the room as if seeing it for the first time. She points a shaking finger at me. “We’re not friends,” say says, breathless.
“Are you trying to convince me or yourself?” I brush my jeans as I lean forward, resting my elbows on my knees. The sudden head rush from sitting up so fast has my vision spinning.
“Ella, wait,” I call out as she storms across the room. But she doesn’t go to the door, she stops at my weight bench and turns, leveling a glare at me.
She swallows and her shoulders fall. “I’m sorry, Ethan,” she says, staring at the floor. “We can’t do this. This can’t happen.”
I walk over, keeping a safe distance from the girl of my dreams even though all I want to do is press her against the wall and make out like the world is ending. “Why?”
Her eyes meet mine and there’s fire behind them. “Because I hate you.”
She’s said it before, but it hurts the most this time. “Yeah, I know,” I say, shoving my hands in my pockets. I guess deep down, I knew her newfound feelings wouldn’t last. “I’ll go now.”
Chapter 12
Waking up in the Poe’s house is an immediate reminder of everything I’d fallen asleep to forget. The tornado, the embarrassing school crap with Kennedy . . . and Ethan. I roll over and the air mattress squeaks. I pull the borrowed blanket up over my face and sigh into it, wishing I could scream.
How could I have been so stupid? That kiss was purely an act of lust. I was a little tipsy, he was totally hot, it couldn’t be helped.
The only good to come from that epic mistake was that it strengthened my resolve. I now know more than anything that I want to avoid him in every possible way. Shouldn’t be too hard. I’ll spend every waking second in this room or in the pool house with my parents. Or I’ll just stay gone as long as possible. Maybe I’ll take up an after school hobby or get a job since I can no longer bake cupcakes on the weekends for some spending money.
Ethan’s bedroom door is closed when I head toward the stairs, my backpack slung over my shoulder. The football guys are always late to school. Every football player I’ve ever had in first period always runs in just when the bell rings, or a few seconds later. I figured Ethan would be the same way, so I woke up thirty minutes earlier than usual so I can get the hell out of here without seeing him.
My parents are sitting with Mr. and Mrs. Poe at the breakfast table and they all say hi to me when I walk in. It’s like having four parents in some alternate reality.
“Hey,” I say, leaning over Mom to grab one of Mrs. Poe’s fresh baked blueberry muffins.
“These have flax seed and almond flour,” Mrs. Poe says. It’s seven in the morning and she’s dressed better than the other adults in the room. “Antioxidants and super healthy for you.”
I hold up the muffin. “Thanks, sounds good.”
No it doesn’t.
“You’re up early,” Mom says. She sips her coffee. “Doesn’t school start at eight?”
“Yeah but I have a project to work on. Wanted to get there early.” It’s called Project Avoid Ethan.
“Um,” Dad says, rubbing his chin. “I’m afraid I have to take your car to work from now on.”
My heart stops. “What?” I say, although it comes out more like a choke of desperation.
“Sorry, Punk.” Dad frowns and I can tell he really is sorry. Probably more because he has to drive my girly car with the Harry Potter stickers on the back than sorry that I’m stuck without a ride, but still. “It’s only until I can get a new car. The car insurance will be paying out soon, so don’t worry.”
I heave a sigh. Dad’s truck isn’t worth much and if they’re getting a check for the value of it, they’ll probably spend it on our new living situation. And honestly, getting out of Ethan’s house is better than having my car back. I put a hand on Dad’s shoulder. “It’s fine. You can keep it as long as you need.”
Maybe I can get a ride from April. The last thing I’ll do is take the bus as a senior. I’d rather steal a bike and pedal all the way to school than be seen stepping out of the big yellow dork taxi.
“You’re a good kid, Punk,” Dad says, patting my hand.
“Why do you call her Punk?” Dakota wrinkles her nose as she enters the breakfast area and grabs a muffin.
Dad chuckles. “It’s short for Punkin. That was her nickname as a kid.”
Dakota nods and peels off the paper liner. “That sounds better. I thought you were calling her a real punk.”
Mom holds up her coffee. “It works on two levels, I think,” she says with a wink.
Mr. Poe chuckles and rises from his chair. “I’m headed off to work. Ben, the cable guys are coming over today to make sure the TV in the pool house works.”
“You don’t need to go through so much trouble,” Dad says. “Really, we’re grateful for the bed to sleep in. We don’t need a TV.”
Mr. Poe waves a hand. “No trouble at all for a friend.” Then he kisses Mrs. Poe on the lips and Dakota on the forehead before leaving.