Beautifully Ruined (20 page)

I can’t take it anymore.

“Listen up, Neanderthals,” I announce loudly, stepping between the two brutes and putting space between them by shoving against their chests until they take several stumbling steps back. “Last time
I
checked, I wasn’t a piece of cattle to brand with your name. I belong to
no one
, got it?” Zephyr opens his mouth to respond but I instantly cut him off. “If you still
want
a girlfriend, buddy, back the
fuck off
and
calm the hell down
. And you,” I point to Milo, “You still want a friend, if
both of you
still want a friend”—I’m addressing them both—”you’ll both calm down and try to be friends for my sake.
Capiche?
”

Milo shifts where he stands, looking from me to Zephyr. Zephyr stares at me, a dumbfounded expression on his face.

“I love you, Joey,” Zephyr starts. I expect him to tell me that he can do it, that he and Milo can become friends. Or at least tolerate each other. That’s also acceptable. “And I’ll do many things for you.” He looks over to Milo. I’m expecting an apology from Zephyr to Milo, I’m expecting friends to be made—I’m expecting a
lot
of things right now. Then they could look back on this moment and laugh at the stupidity. “But I don’t need his friendship.” And I was wrong.

I hate being wrong.

Stepping back away from them, shock covering my face because I feel stupid. I look from Zephyr to Milo—completely pissed.

Turning to Milo, I ask, “Do you feel the same?”

Milo eyes Zephyr. Then nods.

And I feel even dumber.

“Fine,” I reply, grabbing my book from the table and my backpack from beneath the bench. “You two want to act like children, you two want to rip each other to shreds, be my guest.” I shove everything into my bag. “But I’m not going to stand here while the two of you compare sizes.” I zip everything up, turning to leave. Then I remember her awkwardly standing there. I turn to her. “You coming?” I ask Alexia.

Her glossed jaw drops. She looks dumbfounded.

I shrug, realizing I caught her off guard and put her on the spot. “You don’t have—”

“Yeah, I’m on my way,” she says, grabbing her stuff and following me from the cafeteria as I escape. I hear Zephyr calling my name but I don’t stop.

I walk straight into the library, stopping only when I get to my favorite recliner in the back. Alexia drops into its neighbor. In the heat of the moment, I sort of forgot about her.

“That was weird,” she says quietly, staring off into the stacks of books in front of her.

“As weird as my life’s been these past few weeks, that doesn’t even begin to compare.” Alexia looks up to me, her fingers tucking back a lock of hair. “Oh, come on. You don’t find it weird to be sitting in the library with me having a civil conversation?”

I’d say
normal
but not after what just happened.

“True.” Her hands play with the end of her hair. “But I never thought I’d see your boyfriend and my…
friend
fighting over you.” She shrugs.

“To be fair, it was also a fight about you.”

She slowly nods, recognition clouding her face. “Yeah. A fight about how I nearly got you raped at a party.” Alexia looks to the floor. “I really screwed up. I can’t even begin to show you how sorry I am for all of it.”

“Well, Alexia, you can start by, I don’t know, not talking about it anymore.” I shrug my shoulders, crashing into the soft cushion of the chair. “I’m ready to move on. Are you?”

Her blue eyes focus on me. A gaze that would’ve terrified me earlier in the year, but now I know what’s behind it.

She’s thinking. Those little gears in her mind are spinning away.

“Do you honestly believe you can just move on? Just like that?”

No. Not really. It’s going to take hours and days of effort not to attack her as she stands near me, not to mention, picturing myself murdering her every chance I pass her. But I won’t know until I try and—holy crap, I can’t believe I’m about to sat this—I’m ready and willing to try.

“Yeah,” I reply honestly. “I do.”

With those three words, I feel a huge weight lifting from my shoulders. It’s relaxing and exhilarating. I feel ready. Ready for Alexia’s friendship—
so help me, Jesus
—I never thought I’d ever say something like that.

“Okay,” she replies excitedly, kicking her feet from the chair.

“Guess what, Alexia Cavanaugh.” She turns to me, looking at me cautiously, as if I could change my mind and push her away. “You’ve made yourself a new friend today.” I hold out my hand, ready to make this official. In the most awkward way, but it’s the thought that counts. She takes my tiny hand in hers, shaking it slowly. A smile blooming through her features, breaking apart her glossed lips.

“Now what?” she asks when our hands release.

“Now we do friend things, like talk about boys.” We share a laugh. “Like Milo. What’s going on there?” I ask her, watching her cheeks bloom in a blush, one that rivals mine. It’s adorable.

Then she starts to tell me.





The end bell rings overhead and I’m on my way to my locker, my car keys swinging and swaying from my wrist. Opening the metal door, I shove the books I don’t need for the weekend inside—all of them since I’m a week ahead on my homework—and slam it shut, I grab my violin and head outside. Neither Zephyr or Milo have tried contacting me since lunch period. I received a few
I’m sorry
texts I didn’t reply to, but that’s it. Nothing more.

You’d think they’d try harder to apologize. I am incredibly pissed. Everyone and their mother knows I won’t stay mad at Zephyr for long but he needs to at least
speak
to me for me even to consider accepting his apology—which I’ll do in less than ten seconds. Eleven tops.

But I can wait.

I’m
good
at waiting.

So I exit the building, heading toward the back of the student lot.

“
FIGHT!
” The voice rings through the air, alerting the masses of the eventual fight gathering somewhere nearby.

I stop, knowing I shouldn’t be concerned—it’s not my problem, but some little piece of me is curious and worried. Still, I let it pass and continue my trek through the lot toward my silver Focus.

“
FIGHT! FIGHT!
” someone chants. The person screaming the chant leads a group of students behind the school. A bad feeling develops in the pit of my stomach, like a heavy stone digging into me.

I follow. Against every part of me, every piece of me that wants to turn and head home, I follow the growing crowd. I follow
the group past the tennis courts, past the swamp the science classes use to collect samples, through the trail, to the neighborhood behind the school. The crowd is large and throbbing—pulsing with anticipation—they’re ready for action.

If the crowd is this large, how long have they known about this? I haven’t heard anything all day.

“
Zephyr! Zephyr! Zephyr!
” They start chanting.

Shit!

How did I know this was the main attraction? I knew there was a reason I had to be here. My boyfriend. He better not be fighting—

“
You can take him, Milo!
” Someone nearby yells.

Shit! Shit! Shit!

I drop my violin and backpack on the sidewalk, hoping nothing breaks, and push my way through the crowd, hoping I’m hearing everything wrong. Sure enough, my boyfriend and my friend are squaring up, preparing for battle. Neither of them notice me as I glare at them, nearly ready to throw a few punches of my own.

Stepping into the middle of the circle, I throw up my hands. “What the
HELL
is going on here?” I shout. The din of the crowd quiets to nothing, my fury seeping through. They all know not to mess with me. I
am
the daughter of a murderer after all.

Sometimes the rumors have their benefits.

“Jo—” Zephyr starts.

“Uhn uh,” I interrupt him. “Don’t you even dare
Jo
me. What the
fuck
are you doing?” I turn to Milo, expecting some kind of answer. “Same goes for you, buddy boy?”

I get nothing but nervous stares.

“
Come on! Fight!
”

That’s it
.

“Whoever the
fuck you are
”—I step toward the crowd—”shut the fuck
up!
This concerns none of you. Now, you. Speak.” I point to Milo. He seems like the reasonable choice for an answer. Zephyr will only talk circles around me because he
wants
a reason to punch Milo in the face. This is his reason.

“This is the only way he’ll shut up.” Milo flips his hair back, out of his eyes.

After hearing his answer, I point to Zephyr, my might-soon-to-be-ex-boyfriend.

“Jo, come on.”

“You’re time for pleading has ended, dude,” I tell him, closing the distance between us. I stand to my full height of five-feet and try to seem taller—it doesn’t help when your boyfriend is over a foot taller than you are. I should kick him in the shin, even the playing field a bit. “Now speak or I will let him kick your ass.”

Zephyr leans back, the cockiest of grins covering his smug face as he barks out a laugh. He doesn’t believe me. The urge to punch him myself is too overwhelming but I have to hold back, I have to suppress the urge, or people could be chanting my name in twenty seconds.

“Fine,” I mutter, backing away from the most confident of asshats. “You two want to fight each other?” I turn from Zephyr to Milo. “Go. Right. Ahead.”

It’s as if the bulls had been released. Zephyr attacks Milo so quickly, if I’d have blinked, I’d have missed it. My boyfriend leapt through the air—the most hilarious of shrieks, or battle cry, ripping from his throat—landing on Milo and throwing the first punch straight to his face. He hits, bruising Milo’s eye. Milo responds by throwing Zephyr to the ground and making a few punches of his own. Oooh, that’s looks painful.

I never knew Milo could fight. That worry I had when he walked into class was clearly a worry that wasted my time. I hear Zephyr’s grunts ring through the air. I’m tempted to pull Milo away and cover Zephyr with my body to protect him. The protective girlfriend thing is clearly trying to take over. It’s almost winning.

Keyword: almost.

I’m pissed off and Zephyr wanted a fight. I’m giving him what he wants.

The chanting has changed. With every successful hit Milo lands, his name rings a little bit louder through the air. With every successful hit Zephyr lands, his name slowly grows louder.

I’m standing off to the side, a yawn pouring from my lips as I check the time on my phone. Ten minutes of this crapfest has passed—ten minutes of my life wasted. And it doesn’t look like it’s ending anytime soon.

Zephyr shoves Milo away, pushing him across the tiny circle opened for them. Another yawn escapes my lips. I’ve never been so bored before in my life. And I’ve sat through a summer college course of Sociolinguistics.

I watch Zephyr make a punch, aiming for Milo’s cheek, only for Milo to block his hand, knocking him down to the ground, pinning his arm painfully behind his back.

He struggles for a few moments, trying to tug his arms free. “Fine!” Zephyr shouts through the air. Milo let’s up, backing away from my boyfriend, wiping blood from beneath his eye, as I approach, shoving past people.

“You happy?” I ask as Zephyr writhes on the cool cement.

“Why are you being—”

“Listen to me, Zephyr. And listen well.” I crouch down, until I’m eye-level. “I am your girlfriend.
Your girlfriend
. Not your property, not some little toy you get to play with.
Your girlfriend
. This thing between you and Milo—what were you even doing, fighting for my honor?—yeah, that’s not going to work for me. So you need to pick yourself up and get over whatever problem you have with Milo. Because he’s not going anywhere. Got it? He’s a cool dude and I like hanging out with him. That isn’t changing any time soon. Kay?”

I help Zephyr up to his feet as he nods. Don’t get me wrong, I’m pissed with him. I probably will be for a while, but I still love the guy.

“Good.” I pat him on the arm. “I’ll see you later.”

I turn away, heading toward my violin and backpack on the sidewalk, ready to head home. I need some time to process before I do something even dumber than these two and that’s a possibility.





Saturday morning, I lie in bed with a book and my iPod, listening to Agnes Obel—calm music for a hopefully calm day—when my phone beeps, alerting me to a text message.

Milo:
Are you not going to talk to me anymore?