Pretty Crooked (6 page)

“One of my patients canceled. I’m Cherise’s mom,”
she said, holding out a hand to me. She was tall and slim and she had the same sweet smile as Cherise, though she wore her hair much shorter, in a pixie-esque style. “They call me Doctor at work, but you can just call me Gwen.”

“Willa,” I said. “Nice to meet you. Cherise has been my guardian angel at Valley Prep.”

“She does the angelic thing pretty well, doesn’t she?” Dr. Jackson said, giving her a sardonic look. “You girls have fun at the mall?”

“Yes, and I didn’t even bankrupt you—
today
.” Cherise pulled out some Coke Zeros from the fridge. “Come on, Willa.”

I followed her to her room, which had lime-green walls and white modern furniture. A decal mural of hot-pink flowers hung over her desk while a bunch of framed vintage album covers were arranged over her turntables. She walked toward them and put on a record.

“You’re going to love Jurassic Five,” she said. “‘Contribution’ is my song of the moment.”

I sank down in a cushy armchair in the corner, checking out her bookshelves, which were lined with foil-lettered paperbacks.

“I’m kind of obsessed with thrillers,” she said, noticing me looking at them. “But I have to hide it from the lit-mag snobs at school. I’ll never get anything into
The Camel’s Back
if they find out I read Patricia Cornwell.”

I smiled. “I’ll keep it on the DL, I promise.”

“There are no secrets in this town, don’t you know? People are blabbermouths.”

“Speaking of which … that Buzz site was pretty harsh,” I said tentatively. I didn’t want to bring up a sore subject, but it had been nagging at me ever since the scene in the dressing room and I wanted to know more about what Cherise really thought. “All that stuff about Busteds—they were talking about the Mexican girls, right?”

“I don’t know.” She slid a record back into its cardboard sleeve. “Like I said, I don’t read it. I think it’s poison. But one of those girls is in my comp class. Mary Santiago, I think her name is. She seems nice. What’d it say?”

“Something about them being bussed in. About not wanting to catch their diseases.”

“Yikes,” she said, wincing.

“What’s that about?”

“I don’t know. Some of these Prep kids have never met anyone beyond their zip code. They really don’t know how to handle outsiders. But even for them that’s pretty disgusting.”

I felt a tightening in my chest. I was an outsider, too. Was there stuff about me on this site? If there was, I didn’t want to know.

I thought back to the nasty words and I hoped Mary and Alicia and Sierra never read them, either. I imagined what it would be like for one of them to stumble across
that post about them being “bussed in,” and I felt queasy all over again. I knew what it was like to be new, and something like that—well, that would make it ten times worse. That was enough to make you want to crawl into a hole and never come back to school.

It was possible that no one had told them about the site. They seemed to be in their own social bubble. But still, if everyone else was reading it, they were going to find out sooner or later what these bullies thought of them. I wished, suddenly, that there was something we could do to intervene.

Cherise sat down on her bed, facing me. “When I first got here, they didn’t accept me, either. I mean, c’mon now: I don’t really look like most of the kids here.” She pointed to her face with both index fingers. “It took me a few years to figure it out, make friends. Learn the rules, the language.”

“And now?” I asked, biting my lip nervously as I waited for her answer.

“Things are different. It’s much better, I’ll tell you that. I would never want to go back to the way it was before. I used to have stuff thrown at me. Names.” She sighed, remembering. “I had to give a few girls the smackdown, and Kellie was one of them.”

“Really?” I asked, shocked. I had a hard time imagining the friendly, elegant girl I’d been shopping with being mean to Cherise, let alone participating in a schoolyard brawl. “And now everything’s cool?”

She nodded. “Well, that was a long time ago. We all
grew up. Some of us more than others, I guess. Not the people posting on that site.”

I had an idea. “What if we did something to get it shut down, like report the mean stuff?”

“Someone tried that last year, but as soon as it got shut down by the headmaster, another site just like it popped up. They can’t really control this kind of thing. People are going to talk no matter what—this just gives them an easy outlet.” Cherise sighed. “Look, Willa, don’t worry. That post was just some random loser. Not everyone at Prep is like that.”

“I hope not,” I said, meeting her eyes. I
really
hoped not. Everything had been going so well. I’d just started to feel at home here. I would hate to think I’d walked right into some kind of lion’s den.

“Just ignore it. Everyone really likes you. You’re different, you know? In a good way. Kellie invited you to her party, right? She doesn’t just give out invitations to everybody.”

I smiled, letting the flattery wash over me. Was that true about Kellie, or was Cherise just trying to make me feel better? She wouldn’t make it up, would she?

Did it even matter? I had Cherise on my side, and that felt good.

“Now, to a more important question,” she said, sashaying around so that her silk cowl-neck tee fluttered. “What are you wearing on Saturday?”

CHAPTER FIVE

“YO!”

It was a guy’s voice, deep and commanding. I was hunched over my bike, trying to unlock it from the rack in the parking lot. The afternoon sun was like a laser singeing my back, and I was already feeling a little flustered and a little wilted at the end of a long school day.

When I turned around, I saw that a silver Porsche Boxster had pulled up in front of me. The guy stuck his head out the window and the shag of hair caught my eye first. Then the tanned elbow. My eyes traveled upward again. It was Aidan. With that grin of his.

Oh boy
.

Was that my face flushing, or was it just the sun?

“You’re flat.”

What the…? Now my face definitely burned. Mortifying.

Yeah, my chest was a work in progress, I knew
that—but, wait, what about him,
how dare he
?

“I’m really—” I gasped, pulling my bike out of the rack, about to launch into an attack.

Losing my mind
.

Because I suddenly noticed what he was talking about. The front tire was sagging. “Oh man.”

“You’ve gotta take care of that.”

Okay, so this had nothing to do with my boobs. That was good. Flat tire, not so much. I chewed on my thumbnail, trying to gather my composure and think. I could probably ride it home, I reasoned. It was only a couple of miles.

He had put his car in park, with the blinkers on, so that now it was clogging up the lane. It was the end of the school day on a Friday, and other cars were forming a line behind him, understandably eager to get out of Valley Prep’s parking lot and start their weekends. But Aidan had already hopped out of the driver’s seat, leaving his car door open and blocking anyone from going around him. He knelt down beside me on the pavement.

“It’s okay. Maybe you should just move the car,” I said firmly, but my insides were like mattress springs. For some reason, Aidan had a way of making me extremely nervous, like I was going to spaz out at any moment. “People are waiting. Seriously, I don’t need help. I got it.”

“But you can’t ride this home.” He moved closer to
the bike and I involuntarily drew in a breath. Touching my bike was like touching me.

I looked around. A few more cars had pulled up.

He leaned in and hunched over the front wheel, detaching it from the frame. His hands were broad, his fingers skillful and quick. He knew his way around the anatomy. I watched him, at first, with a sense of awe.

But wait a minute…

I never let anyone mess with my bike. It was an antique. It was my only means of freedom. And like I said before, it was my most prized possession.

Paging brain control. You’re losing it here
.

“What the hell are you doing?” I blurted as I snapped out of my reverie.

“I’m giving you a ride home, dummy.”

He carried the wheel and the frame toward his car and popped open the trunk. Then he pushed down the backseat to make more room.

“No, thanks,” I said, following close behind. “I’d rather ride.”

He put the frame in the trunk and set the wheel beside it. “Bike safety one-oh-one. Riding on a flat is no joke. You can permanently damage your rims—or get killed. Nope. Not on my watch.”

The girl in the Jeep behind us started honking her horn. Then two more cars beeped, too. Within seconds, a whole orchestra of cars was sounding.

“Well, new girl, it looks like you’re about to piss off
the entire student population,” he said, and hopped in the driver’s seat. He patted the passenger seat. “C’mon, don’t make me beg.”

I was pretty sure I’d figured this kid out the other day. And Cherise had confirmed my suspicions about him. He was bad news with a dollar sign for an
s
. But now what choice did I have? He was right. I couldn’t afford to screw up my bike. I took one more look over my shoulder. The girl in the Jeep was holding her hand down on the horn and simultaneously sticking her head out the window, looking like she might just gun it and mow me down. So I got in next to him, reluctantly.

He turned to me and smiled—not the grin this time, just a standard-issue sweet smile, and I softened. No doubt about it. Aidan had some serious genetic gifts.

“Sorry about that,” he said, steering the car out of the lot with the heel of his hand. “My usual car has a bike rack, but it’s in the shop right now. I’ve been having some transmission issues.”

“So this is your backup?” I asked, half joking, but also half impressed. The sheer wealth of VP kids was still a source of wonder.

“My dad’s,” he said, shrugging. “He’s got a whole collection but this is the only one he’ll let me drive.”

“Of cars?” I gave him the side-eye.

“Of Porsches.”
Naturally
. “Where to?”

Did I really want him to know where I lived? I thought for a minute of giving him a fake address or
letting him drop me off at a mini-mart or something. But then, he seemed pretty harmless. Besides the killer eyes and the public disturbances, of course. A quick risk-to-attractiveness analysis told me to go with it. “I’m on Morning Glory Road.”

“Out past the golf club? I think I know where that is.” He reached down and turned up the stereo, which was already blaring Queens of the Stone Age, the reissued first album—I knew this because I’d downloaded it myself a few weeks earlier. Then he shifted gears abruptly and the car jerked forward, throwing me back against the leather seat. “That’s a funky bike you’ve got there.”

“Thanks. I hope you didn’t break it.”

“Nah. I know what I’m doing. I worked at Cadence Cycle a couple summers ago.”

That
surprised me. “You did repairs? Like with your hands?”

“No, I hired a migrant worker to do that part.” He looked at me with a smirk. “Of course I did it with my hands. So if you ever need help, you know who to call.”

“Thanks,” I said, looking down at my own hands and twisting them around in my lap. Nerves I’d never felt before thrummed through them. “But I usually do my own tune-ups and stuff.”

“Nice. I like a girl with a good work ethic.” He’d put on mirrored aviators so that now he looked like a NASCAR driver, minus the jumpsuit. Forget his mind-blowing
hotness—I was having a hard time taking him seriously. Wouldn’t anybody? “So, how do you like Valley Prep so far? Just so you know, I’ve put a halt to my stunts so that you could settle in.”

“Gee, thanks,” I said, holding back a grin. “VP is okay, I guess.”

“Just okay, huh? What, you’re too cool for us, Miss Colorado?”

“How’d you know where I’m from?”

“Word gets around,” he said, and when our eyes met, I could feel the smile I’d been fighting spreading across my face. He was talking about me? To other people?

“I’m not too cool. I just—” My phone was buzzing. “Hang on. I have a call.”

I answered, cupping my hand to my ear to hear over Aidan’s music.

“Willa, mmmhereem.”

“Who?” I yelled.

“It’s mmmerehrm.” The voice was tiny and muffled.

“Who?”

“It’s me. Your mother?”

“Mom! It’s so loud—I couldn’t hear.” I glared at Aidan, hoping he would turn the music down. When he didn’t, I reached over to do it myself. He slapped at my hand.
Jerk!
I had to completely plug my other ear closed with my finger to try to make out what she was saying.

“Where are you?” she asked.

“Oh, nowhere.” I didn’t know how to explain in a
simple way that I was getting a ride from a guy. “On my way home from school.”

“Are you in a car?”

“Yeah. It’s a friend’s.”

“C’mon, Willa,” Aidan shouted. “Tell her the truth about us.”

I gestured vehemently, slicing my hand across my mouth to tell Aidan to shut up.

“Who’s that?” she asked. “Who’s with you?”

“No one,” I said. “Just some guy.”

“Some guy?” Aidan chided. “Come on. Is that all I am to you?”

“Mom, I—”

“What’s going on?” she asked.

“This guy’s just being stupid,” I said. “It’s just a stupid joke.”

“Who is he?” She sounded worried, her tiny voice straining inside the speaker.

Aidan was making kissy faces at me, and I wanted to punch him. This wasn’t cool. Flirting was one thing. But this wasn’t flirting … it was just douchery.

“Mom, I’ll be home in a few minutes.”

“Tell her I said bye!” Aidan called out as I was hanging up.

“What do you think you’re doing?” I demanded, staring him down.

“I’m entertaining you on the ride home.”

“You’re freaking out my mom is what you’re doing.”

“Aw, I gave her a little thrill.” He glanced at me, and then back at the windshield. “Besides, is your mom that freak-outable?”