Every Ugly Word Page 6

  I shoved past them, already feeling fragile and questioning the wisdom of this plan. How was I going to survive tonight long enough to find the letter?

  Suddenly, there was a hand on my shoulder. I whirled around, ready to do battle, but I found myself facing Samuel Oster, a lanky, curly haired junior with a sweet smile. He’d been an outcast in middle school, when I wasn’t. But he’d had his growth spurt before freshman year, and now, despite still looking like a colt who hadn’t grown into its legs, he was part of the football team.

  He looked at me with a cautious smile. “If you want, I can get you a drink when I’m up there?” He tipped his head toward the keg.

  “Oh, I don’t need—” A great burst of laughter from where Finn stood startled me. I jerked to look. By the time I turned back, Sam was already walking away. “Sorry, Sam. I just—”

  “No worries.” He pushed up next to his teammates. One of them said something that made him grin. I stared at his back, wondering if I should have said thanks, or whether it was a lucky escape from someone trying to trap me. Again. I’d learned the hard way not to trust any of my classmates when they were being nice.

  Older Me’s voice rose from a little mirror hanging off the refrigerator. “Don’t scowl like that. Sam is sweet. He probably remembers what it’s like to be at your first party with these people.” I glanced over as she shook her head.

  “He caught me off guard,” I said, trying not to move my lips.

  “If you’re going to be here,” she said, “you should make the most of anyone being friendly. Just a thought.”

  I wanted to snap at her to keep her thoughts to herself, but suddenly Sam was in front of me again, a red cup in each hand.

  “Last chance for liquid courage?” he said.

  This time, I returned his smile and thanked him, taking the offered cup.

  He shrugged and downed half his beer in one go. “Just stay under the radar. You’ll be fine.” He clapped me on the shoulder and headed back to the keg before wandering across to the living room.

  I sipped the beer carefully. It tasted fine, and the fizz in my chest was comforting.

  “Not what I meant,” Older Me sighed from the mirror. But I ignored her.

  Ten minutes later, having drained and refilled my cup, I headed into the living room. The beer was already settling in a tight, not entirely unpleasant feeling in my stomach and a decidedly floaty feeling in my head. My fear and anxiety waned with each sip.

  “Where have you been, Ash?” Matt asked, coming up to me, his arm around Karyn’s shoulders. “You disappeared the second we got here.”

  “Just got a beer,” I said, holding up my cup.

  “I could use one of those. You want a drink, Matt?” Karyn said, wiggling out from under his grip.

  Just then, Finn shoved past us, bumping my arm. Beer sloshed over the side of my cup and straight onto my chest.

  “Oh, sh—!” I jumped back, brushing frantically at the sticky liquid on my chest.

  “Drunk already, dude?” Matt said, grabbing some napkins off a nearby table and handing them to me.

  “What? Oh, sorry, Ashley! I didn’t see you there.” Finn stood to my right, a broad smile on his face. Beside him, Karyn struggled not to laugh.

  I glared at him and patted at my shirt, but it was useless. I’d worn a white tank top under a crop cut, deep V-neck sweater. My white top had plastered itself to my chest and my bra was already showing through the fabric. Finn’s eyebrows rose when I brushed at it again. Even Matt glanced down from my face to my chest.

  “You might want to get that seen to,” Finn drawled. “Or not. Maybe you’ll be more popular tonight than I thought.”

  “Finn!” Matt barked.

  “What? I’m just joking.”

  “Not funny, man,” Matt warned.

  “I’ll be back in a minute,” I muttered, glowering at Finn, who was making no effort to hide his laughter.

  As I turned to find the bathroom, I saw Matt pull Finn aside. Finn wasn’t laughing anymore. I could feel him watching until I was around the corner.

  Pushing through the growing crowd in the hallway, ignoring the stares and laughs as I went, I made it to the stairs and ran up. There was a large bathroom just a couple of doors from the top. Mrs. Patton had renovated since I was last in the house. The bathroom now had two sinks, a mirror that spanned the entire wall, and a shower large enough to house a party of its own.

  I locked the door behind me, yanked my sweater off, and turned to assess the damage in the mirror. My top was a disaster. The white cotton looked like it had been peed on, and my lacy white bra was showing through, somehow making me look more naked instead of less.

  Suddenly, Older Me appeared next to my bedraggled reflection. “I can’t believe you’re here. Have you completely lost your mind?” She stood in the mirror, arms crossed under her ample boobs, staring at me like I was insane.

  I fixed her with a pointed look. “You tell me.”

  “Ashley . . . ,” Older Me started. But the tone in her voice was gentle. Pitying. “You should go home. Now.”

  I shook my head. “I can’t.”

  Her frown deepened. “Why not? What aren’t you telling me?”

  “Nothing! It’s just . . .” Since I couldn’t tell her about the letter without getting a huge lecture, I settled for the next best truth. “Karyn’s cheating on him! I can’t just let her get away with it and pretend it’s nothing.”

  She took in my soaked shirt and the determined expression on my face and shook her head. “So tell him. Don’t put yourself in situations like this on the off chance you’ll catch her doing something. It’s not like she’s going to pin Finn against a wall when Matt’s in the room.”

  “I know . . . but . . .” Tears bit at my throat. I swallowed them, holding on to the fuzzy warmth from the alcohol that was beginning to spread from my chest into my arms and legs.

  With a frustrated growl, I grabbed my sweater from the floor where I’d dropped it. But when I put it on, it hung open at the front since it only had one button. Glimpses of my bra still peeked through. I could walk through the house holding it closed, but that seemed like a recipe for trouble. My head spun a little as I dug through the drawers that lined the countertop, then pushed aside some old makeup tubes. There was a small safety pin I could use to keep the front of my sweater closed.

  “Where are you going?” Older Me asked urgently.

  “Calm down. I’m leaving.” Soon. Once I got the letter.

  There was no one in the hall outside the bathroom. Music and voices drifted up the stairs, but so far everyone was too sober to have spread out. If I was lucky, I had a good half hour before anyone started looking for privacy.

  With one last glance at the stairs to make sure no one was on their way up, I made my way down the hall to Finn’s room. His door was closed, but when I tried the knob, it turned.

  Finn obviously figured he’d be bringing someone up here. Apart from his school bag on the chair at his desk, the room was spotless. His massive bed had been made with crisp corners. He’d closed the curtains, but left a lamp on next to the bed.

  I closed the door noiselessly, then darted across the room to his desk. I tried his bag first, but the leather satchel held only a few pens, his tablet, and a couple of books. No loose papers at all. Doing my best to leave everything as it was, I rifled through the long drawer in the middle of his desk. It was crammed with trash, pens, and broken pencils. But the second drawer down on the right . . .

  As soon as I opened it, I knew that was my best shot. It was full of printed e-mails, notes, cards—obviously the spot he threw everything girls gave him. And judging by the piles in here, there had been a lot of girls in his life. I pulled out stacks of paper and printed photographs, flipped through them, looking for anything with my handwriting. When I’d removed most of the contents of the drawer, I discovered the little box in the back.

  It was nothing important looking—an old, oversize matchbox. But righ
t on the top, over a pile of notes, was my letter. I grabbed it out with a little cry and was about to shove the box back and get out of there, when I noticed what had lain beneath it. It was a blue Post-it. In pink pen in a loopy hand with a heart to dot the i, was written:

  next saturday at 4 at our spot. M has practice.

  don’t be late.

  Xoxo

  It was from Karyn.

  Proof.

  My heart beating a rapid tattoo, I grabbed the Post-it and slid the box back into its place, then scrambled to pick up the piles of envelopes and notes and pictures, returning them to the drawer, praying I’d gotten the order right. My fingers felt slightly numb as the alcohol seeped into my bloodstream. It was harder than it should have been to grab the piles. I was just shutting the drawer when I heard a click behind me and whirled, cursing.

  Finn stood just inside, his upper lip pinched into a sneer.

  “Hey, C. Whatcha doing?” Then he slammed the door behind him and flipped the lock.

  Chapter Ten

  “Just taking what belongs to me,” I said, standing on wobbly legs, the letter and note clutched in my fist.

  Finn covered the space between us in three long strides, grabbing for the letter. I held it behind me and shoved him off with my free hand. “Back off, Finn!”

  “You little thief!

  I barked a laugh. “I’m the thief? You stole it from me!”

  His gaze trailed down my body.

  “You know, I liked you when we were twelve. You could have been normal. Like, with friends. What happened to you?”

  I put my hands on my hips. “If being normal means cheating on my best friend, I’ll stick with what I’ve got.”

  Finn scowled and leaned in close to my face. “Cheating, lying, what’s the difference? Doesn’t seem to bother you.” His breath was hot on my cheek, washing me in the tang of half-digested beer. “You think Matt would ever look at a fatty like you when he’s getting everything from the hottest girl in our class?”

  Matt and Karyn were sleeping together? No, no. Please, God, no.

  “I wrote it before I knew he was with Karyn.” Beer churned in my stomach, threatening to push its way back up.

  Finn scoffed. “So? I can’t believe you thought he actually liked you. Matt feels sorry for you. He’s only nice to you because his parents told him it would be wrong to dump you when you don’t have any other friends. He laughs about you when you aren’t there. Did you know that?”

  “No. He doesn’t.” Tears pressed at the backs of my eyes. I swallowed the lump and shook my head to push them away. “Finn—”

  “Give me the letter,” he snapped.

  “No!”

  The rest happened fast. He grabbed me by both arms and threw me sideways. I landed heavily against the edge of the bed and the whole room tilted. Both his long arms circled me, pinning me as he tried to grab the letter. I struggled, but he just clamped his arms around mine.

  “Finn! Let me go!”

  Finn grunted and his hand closed on mine. I twisted onto my side, pulling the hand with the letter under me, even as he wrestled for it. I was trying to turn over, but he was too strong, and the beer had made me slow.

  “You’re so predictable, C,” he said through gritted teeth.

  “Let me go!”

  “Not until you give me that letter.” He used his weight to pin me even harder.

  “Finn, please.” My breath came in pants, echoing the pounding of my pulse. The feeling of his fingers on my skin turned my stomach. Then one of his hands closed over mine. Over the letter.

  “No!” I cried and twisted hard. Finn grunted, but I ended up on my belly, the hand with the letter pinned under me. Our struggle became a gross parody, him behind me, pressed into my backside, me bucking beneath him. Finally I managed to flip onto my back, but I still couldn’t get free.

  “It’s never going to happen, C,” he hissed in my ear, shifting his weight just slightly, to release one of his hands. “I’m stronger than you. And faster. Not to mention prettier.” He snorted.

  “Let me go!”

  “Although, I don’t have those,” he said silkily. Finn’s finger traced a line from my collarbone, down my sternum, dipping into the middle of my bra. My sweater pulled wide, the pin stretched almost to the breaking point by our struggles. The middle of my bra was clearly visible, and the tops of my breasts rose out of the fabric.

  “Get your hands off me!” I screamed and bucked again, suddenly hyperaware of his greater strength, his hateful smile, how he would do anything to win.

  The door clicked, then thumped.

  “Hel—!” I tried to scream, but Finn’s mouth came down on mine to muffle it.

  I panicked and twisted, brought both my hands up to shove at his chest.

  And just like that, he grabbed the letter and pulled it from my grip.

  “Yes!” He sprung off me and took two steps back, leaving me sprawled against his bed, sagging almost to the floor before I caught my own weight. My head spun and I sucked in a huge breath, ready to scream again. But the door jiggled and a high voice rose behind it.

  “Finn? You in there?”

  It wasn’t Karyn. Must have been one of the girls hanging off him at the keg.

  Finn glanced at the door, but didn’t respond. Just ran a hand through his hair and waved the letter at me.

  “Better get moving, C. I’d hate to have to tell everyone you got drunk and attacked me in my room. Again.”

  I stood up, my entire body trembling. “Give it back,” I said, but it came out on a breath, barely more than a whisper.

  “Not. Even. A. Chance,” he spit at me. “And after this stunt, I’ll be making copies. So even if you do get this back, it won’t matter. You say one word, and everyone will still know what you are. Who you want.” Finn flashed a sharp grin and took a step closer. “Did you need some help with your sweater?” he asked, reaching toward me.

  “Don’t!” I gasped and lunged for the door.

  He stopped, laughing, as I fumbled with the knob, turned the lock, threw the door open, and ran out, past a drunk-looking girl who turned when I burst through the door.

  “Finn, whaddyer doing with her?” rose up behind me as I ran for the stairs.

  But Samuel and Josh Levins were just coming up with a couple of sophomore girls whose names I didn’t know. They all stopped when they saw me.

  Samuel frowned, but before he could speak, Matt elbowed his way to me, Karyn at his side. “Ashley, what’s going on?”

  I whimpered.

  Behind him, Samuel, Josh, and the girls with them kept staring.

  I looked at my feet. “Please take me home. Now.”

  “Are you crying?” Matt took me by the arm. “What’s wrong?”

  “No-othing,” I said. My tongue took too long to make the word.

  Karyn sank into one hip. “She looks drunk, Matt,” she said in her little-girl voice.

  Matt’s brow creased. “Are you?” he asked me.

  “No!” I snapped, then swallowed hard as nausea rose in my throat. If I threw up, he’d never believe me.

  Finn appeared in the hallway then, arms folded. “She’s wasted, Matt. I told you this would never work. She’s making a complete ass out of herself and it isn’t even ten o’clock yet.”

  Matt said something I didn’t catch to Finn—he didn’t sound happy—but Finn just shook his head. “I told you, man. She’s certifiable.”

  “Can you just take me home, Matt? Please?” I begged. Then the tears started for real. I couldn’t tell Matt the truth about what had happened, not with Finn right there. He’d just whip out the letter.

  “Are you going to leave, Matt?” Karyn pouted, flicking her blond hair off her shoulders.

  Matt looked torn. “Just to give Ashley a ride home. But I’ll be back in half an hour, okay? Sorry, babe.”

  He leaned forward to kiss her. She jerked back, glaring, first at him, then at me. But then Finn sidled up beside her and threw his ar
m over her shoulder, and her expression suddenly lightened. She waved a hand and shook her head, a slow smile spreading on her face. “It’s fine. You’re right. She’s drunk. Get her out of here.”

  “I am not drunk!” But they all ignored me.

  Finn smirked, squeezing Karyn’s shoulder. “Yeah, don’t worry. I’ll make sure your girlfriend doesn’t get into too much trouble while you’re gone.”

  “Thanks, man,” Matt said. My mouth dropped open. Karyn looked at me and her smile got broader.

  Uneasiness swirled over me. “But—”

  “Just walk, Ash,” Matt muttered, pulling me toward the stairs.

  I stopped, yanking back on Matt’s grip. “But, Matt, can’t you see? She’s going to—”

  He cursed. “Keep walking!” He shoved his way down the stairs and through the last of the people in the hall, with me trotting in his wake. Then he yanked the door open and stomped across the driveway like he was crushing bugs.

  “Matt, seriously, we should go back. Karyn and Finn—”

  “Ashley, seriously, it is time for you to shut up.”

  That’s when I realized he was seething. Absolutely livid.

  It was rare for Matt to lose his temper with me. I caught his arm.

  “I’m sorry—”

  “Shut up!” Matt stopped in the middle of the driveway and whirled on me. “I got you here to try and make things better, and you just—” His lips clamped down over the words.

  “I’m sorry.” I breathed. “Really, Matt.”

  Matt stared at me, his brow furrowed, jaw twitching with tension. But it wasn’t only anger painted on his face. There was something else in there. Something that I couldn’t define.

  “I told you it wouldn’t work,” I said softly.

  “It might have if you hadn’t gotten drunk.”

  “I’m not drunk!” Just a little fuzzy around the edges.

  “Well, it looked like you were. And that’s all they’re going to care about,” he snapped, pointing back toward the house.

  “What a surprise that you’d care more about what they think than what really happened!”