Ella's Twisted Senior Year(54)
A shadow falls over us and we both look up to see the queen bitch herself, paper lunch bag in her hand.
“Can I sit here?”
The unusualness of Kennedy’s question renders both Ella and I mute. A few seconds pass and Kennedy’s shoulders sag. “Please?”
I make some kind of noncommittal gesture and she sits down across from us. She runs a hand down her face and rubs her neck and then says, “Look. I’m sorry.”
More seconds pass. I don’t really know what to say here. It’s all too awkward for words and apparently Ella feels the same way.
Kennedy sighs. “I know I don’t deserve to have you accept my apology or anything, but I really am sorry. My parents made me see this therapist last week and I guess you could say my eyes were opened to how awful I was to you guys.” She stares at her lunch bag and gnaws on her bottom lip. “I really am sorry. Ethan, I just wanted a perfect high school experience and I guess the pressures of being popular got too much for me. I couldn’t stand the idea of not being the best in the school. When you left me I just . . . I fell apart.” She swallows and draws in a deep breath and for the first time ever, she looks truly sincere. “I totally lost it and it’s not really your fault. My therapist says I put too much of my heart into being popular and I snapped.” She twirls her hand in the air. “Apparently it happens to teenage girls a lot. I don’t know.”
Ella puts down her sandwich. “Thanks for this,” she tells Kennedy.
Kennedy looks over at her and I flinch, expecting her claws to come out. But she just makes this sad smile. “You’re welcome. I really am sorry. I mean, I know we’ll never be friends or anything but can we just call a truce?”
“Yeah, I’d like that,” I say.
Kennedy’s back straightens and she nods. “Thanks.” She grabs her bag and turns to go but Ella stops her.
“You can stay,” Ella says, gesturing to our table. She leans forward and talks quietly. “You might end up dead if you sit with some of these other weirdos.”
We all glance to the right where a guy who is more tattoos and evil grimaces than actual human being sits. Kennedy sighs in relief. “Thanks. Though after smelling all of this garbage I don’t really have much of an appetite.”
After lunch, we grab our sticks and bags and get back to picking up crap that *s toss on the side of the road. But the whole mood of the day is lighter now, like a massive war has finally ended. I’m sure Ella and I will talk about this a lot more when we get back home, but for now, the three of us stick together, the innocent people in a group of real criminals, and we pick up trash until all eight hours of our punishment has been served.
Chapter 30
Once I’ve showered away the stink of highway garbage, I’m starting to feel really excited for tonight. Ethan won’t tell me a single thing about what he has planned.
All I know is that I’m supposed to get all dressed up in the gorgeous pink gown he bought for me and be ready to go at six. Dakota bounces around my bedroom helping me get ready. She’s got an even bigger smile than I do, yet the punk won’t bother telling me any of the secret details that I know she knows.
She helps me style my hair while I apply my makeup. Since it’s not real prom, I know I don’t have to worry about looking as stunning as possible compared to everyone else, so I just do my makeup regularly and then I add some sparkle eyeshadow and fake eyelashes for good measure.
“Which lipstick should I use?” I ask Dakota as I hold up two options. They’re the only two lipsticks I own now since they were in my purse on the day of the tornado.
She holds out the curling iron and gazes at the two choices. “Um, the nude one. It’ll look good with this pale dress.”
I apply the nude-ish pink lipstick and then smile into the mirror. The rec room doesn’t have any mirrors or vanities so I’m getting ready in Dakota’s extra girly room.
Dakota is a pretty great hair stylist for only being thirteen years old. She gives me big, wavy curls and spritzes my hair with some kind of spray that promises “the perfect beach hair” look.
I hear Mom call my name and I check the time. It’s five fifty-five. Dakota leans back and her lips squish to the side of her mouth while she examines me. “You look amazing.”
“You sure?” I ask, smiling. “It kind of took you a while to decide what to say.”
“I was trying to decide if I should send you with a hair tie in your clutch just in case—eh, you know what, go ahead and take one,” she says, grabbing a hair tie off her vanity and handing it to me.
“Just in case what?” I ask, narrowing my eyes. “Why would I need to pull my hair back? Where are we going?”
She pretends to zip her lips closed. “Can’t tell you. Now go,” she says, waving her hands toward her bedroom door. “Go show the world how hot you look.”
I roll my eyes and take a deep breath. Now that I’m about to walk downstairs and see Ethan, I’m a little more than nervous. I’m hyper-nervous. Shit.
Dakota’s hand touches my back. “Deep breaths,” she says as she opens the door. She winks. “It’s just my stupid brother.”
The brother she thinks is stupid is standing at the bottom of the stairs, looking like some kind of god in a black tux that’s fitted to his body perfectly. He has a pale pink triangle sticking out of his chest pocket and his tie also matches my dress. I can’t believe he went through so much trouble for this night and we’re not even going to real prom.