Dark and Twisted (3 page)

“Homecoming: A wholesome source of entertainment, or a cruel underground competition between today’s youth?” I spread my hands in the air to add pizazz.

Okay, so the title sucks, but I can work on it.

Ralph opens his mouth in protest, but I push on, turning to the other members at the table.

“What is homecoming? A dance? Innocent fun? A football game? Or is it more? I want to go deep and find out the ugly truth on how it turns seemingly normal, sane, high school girls into conniving psychos, and to what lengths they’ll go to have the perfect night. Like homecoming will determine their futures!”

I finish giving my amazing pitch and smile around the room, stopping on Max, who is smiling back at me and nodding his head in approval.

“No,” Ralph says without even giving it a thought.

“No?” I repeat slowly, giving him a chance to change his mind.

“No. As fascinating as it sounds,” he rolls his eyes, “no one will read that crap,” Ralph says, pulling out a paper from a large pile.

“Crap. Now that’s going a little far. Sure, my pitch needed work, but—”

“No.” Ralph says, his face turning a bright shade of red from anger.

“I would read it. It’s a great pitch,” Lindsay pipes up, coming to my defense.

Girl power
. I give her a smile that says, ‘I have her back anytime she needs it.’ I look over at Max for help, but he has become extremely interested in a ketchup stain on his pants.
Coward.

Ralph ignores us and continues to hand out the assignments. “Lindsay, you’re on fashion and the dating Q and A’s this week. Max, I need you investigating that smell coming from the cafeteria …”

I can’t believe this.
I flop down in my chair and cross my arms, seething at Ralph. I wonder if anyone would notice if he suddenly went missing.

“And, Eden, you’re covering sports.” He tosses a list of names in front of me, and I stare at it. “You are going to interview the top athletes at C.F.H.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I mutter as I silently read the names.

1. Olivia McCalister

2. Daniel Myers

3. Juliet Smith

4. Buck Warren

5. Cardelian Valentine

“How can they be our top athletes if we never win anything? Plus, this is Cardelian Valentine’s first year playing! He just moved here and has never stepped foot on the field. For all we know, he could suck. How can he be on this list? And Daniel is on the chess tea
m
.
Chess is not a sport,” I protest.

“Consider yourself lucky. Not only do you get to interview the hottest guy in school, but you also get to leave this room,” Lindsay mutters, glancing at Ralph with a look of disgust.

I wonder if he offered her the same enticing date as me as Ralph ignores us and passes out the rest of the assignments.

I turn to Max, who still will not meet my gaze. Either he is really hungry, or he feels bad for not helping me. I’m mad at him, but I decide to give him a lead anyway.

“I saw the lunch lady digging in the dumpster yesterday. You might want to start there.”

He looks up at me and smiles. “Thanks, Eden,” he says quietly.

I wave him off. “Yeah, yeah, whatever.”

I wait until the room is empty before attempting to change Ralph’s mind again. “Ralph, you cannot expect me to write this assignment,” I say, shoving the offensive piece of paper away from me.

“You know, Eden, you’re lucky you even got this assignment … with your grades what they are.”

“Wait, what? What about grades? They have nothing to do with how I write. Hey, how do you know what my grades look like anyway?”

Ralph nervously scrambles behind a desk. “Being a teacher’s assistant earns me certain privileges,” he says defensively.

“Oh my goodness, you were totally creeping! Who else’s grades did you look at?”

“I wasn’t. Mr. Richards gave me the task of entering grades into the system. It’s not my fault you have missing assignments in all of your classes.”

Ralph is
so
getting written into my novel … So I can kill him off! Maybe I will give him a flesh-eating virus.

“I am the best writer you have! And you give me sports? Give me something to show my talent.”

This ruffles his greasy feathers because he knows I am the best. “I am the editor-in-chief and you will write what I tell you to,” he bellows.

I don’t respond because I’m too busy picturing him with oozing boils.

I hang onto the handle as Liv speeds through the narrow streets, missing an elderly couple crossing the road by mere inches, but managing to hit every pothole.

“I don’t get what you are complaining about. You get to interview some of the hottest guys at school,” she counters after I finish my tirade on my belittling assignment.

“Daniel is far from hot, and Buck is a rude, sexist pig who smells like corn chips.” I put my feet on the dashboard and pull a soda can out from under me, adding it to the pile on the floorboard.

“He does not,” she says defensively, wrinkling her perfect little button nose. Liv dated Buck for a week last year, and she takes her dating life seriously.

“I am not judging you, Liv.” I reach over and hit her on the knee. “Some girls find the smell of corn chips attractive.”

She ignores me and changes the subject. “At least now you have a reason to get closer to Juliet.” She smiles impishly at me as she takes a sharp right turn.

“Yay, just what I want to do. Get close to Juliet,” I roll my eyes.

She slams on the brakes in front of my house, painting the side of her truck with a mixture of fresh mud and gravel. “Are we still on for tonight or what?” she asks, annoyed with me.

I look up at the small yellow cottage that I share with my aunt. She was the only one willing to take care of me after my parents died. Not even my charming grandmother had wanted me.

But, the truth is I am the one who takes care of her. She suffers from paranoia and schizophrenia, and spends half her day at the senior citizen center playing bingo, and the other half on the Internet researching alien abductions. I once came home to find the entire roof covered in tin foil, and the fence lined with pie tins. She read a website that putting tinfoil on the ceiling will prevent aliens from entering a dwelling because they are allergic to metal.

“Remind me again when I agreed to go with you?” I ask.

“I swear, Eden, it’s like you don’t even listen to me when I talk!” Liv is one of seven children which causes her to have issues with not being heard.

“Huh?” I say.

Liv’s mouth drops open, and she throws her hands in the air, exasperated. “Ore Pond and you better not flake out this time,” she says.

“Just kidding! Don’t go getting your panties in a bunch,” I say as I open the door and get out.

Ore Pond was an old mining shaft that was flooded by underground rivers and became a local hang out for teenagers
.
The only way to it is up a winding, washed-out dirt road, making it the perfect party spot.

“Promise me, Eden Marie Day,” Liv shouts as I shut the door and start jogging up the stairs to my house. “Eden!” This time, my name comes out like a high-pitched screech.

“I’ll see. After all, it’s a school night,” I call back and quickly shut the front door before I get into a battle I know I’ll lose.

I have no intentions of going to Ore Pond. I know how
that
scenario will play out. I’ll be stuck with Liv and her boyfriend, Jamie, they will get into a fight and then take turns arguing their points to me so that I can pick a side. I will tell them five hundred times that I’m not getting into the middle of it. They’ll break up, and after receiving fifteen minutes of the silent treatment, Jamie will eventually remember that Liv is the love of his life. Then they’ll spend the rest of the night making out while I sit on the frozen, muddy ground, coming up with plots for my stories. I’d much rather stay inside where it’s warm in the comfort of my bed.

I kick off my shoes by the door and wiggle my toes, letting them defrost.

“Eden, is that you?” my aunt calls from the living room.

Dropping my bag to the floor, I peel off my jacket and deposit it on the bench. “Yes, it’s me.”

I grab a soda from the fridge before heading to the living room. She is curled up on a recliner with a wool blanket over her lap, a red scarf wrapped around her neck, and her purple-gloved hands peek out from under the blanket.

“Whyis the heat off
?
The weatherman called for snow.” I glance over at the thermostat,which i
s
taunting me with the prospect of heat.

“Aliens hate cold. They can’t live in it for long.”

Sighing, I sit down on the armrest next to her, rubbing at the growing numbness in my arms.
Yeah, well humans will not survive long in the cold either.

“How was school?” she asks, changing the subject from the threat of an alien invasion to something as normal as my day. “Let’s see, I want to kill Ralph for giving me a crappy assignment, and I’m on the verge of failing just about every class. Other than that, it was great,” I say.

She smiles at me and pats me on the leg. “That’s not true, honey.”

Oh, but it is
.

“You have such an active imagination.”

I lean back and turn my attention to the TV.
Let’s Make a Deal
is on, and a fat guy with a gray beard, who is dressed like a fairy, just won a trip to Florida. The man is jumping up and down while hugging the host.

“Now he was smart,” Essie says, picking up her yellow legal pad to jot down notes. Her dream is to be on
Let’s Make a Deal
. She’s obsessed with the show and even has every episode recorded.

I put my head on her shoulder and wiggle my way down next to her, pulling part of the blanket over me. She smells like hand sanitizer and peppermint, but to me, it’s a comforting aroma.

###

I wake up to the phone ringing. Stretching out my stiff limbs, I yawn and glance at the clock above the TV, 6:30.

Essie pops her head into the room, holding the phone out for me. “It’s Liv. I told her that you can go out with her tonight.” She says with a smile.

“Great.” I get up and take the phone. “Hello?”

“We’ll be there in ten, so go change your clothes.”

To Liv, ten minutes means she will be pulling into my driveway at any moment. I look out the front window for her truck.

“And what’s wrong with what I have on?”

“We don’t have the time to get into that right now. Just go change out of your school clothes… Jamie, you are not going to eat that—” she shrieks before a dial tone sounds in my ear.

Despite my argumentative inner child, I decide to avoid a fight with Liv and go upstairs to change my clothes.

A few moments later, Jamie turns into my driveway with him scowling behind the wheel. I grab my coat and bag and head outside, realizing this is going to be a long night. I take a deep breath and climb into the truck. Jamie doesn’t even wait until I am fully seated before taking off. I have to climb over Liv—who obviously isn’t going to move over. When I take my seat in the middle of them, I feel like I’ve entered a war zone.

“So, how is everyone doing tonight?” I try to break the tension, but they both ignore me.

“Tell him, Eden! Tell him that eating meat is practically committing murder.” She glares at Jamie.

I look over and give him a weak smile.

“Will you tell my crazy vegetarian girlfriend that eating a cheeseburger is my constitutional right as an American!” he shouts.

Liv’s mouth to drop open. “Well, tell the murderer I don’t think I can go out with someone who finds joy in the killing of innocent animals. How can you look at this face and eat it?” Liv shoves her phone, with a picture of a cow on the screen, in Jamie’s face.

“How about we all just keep our eyes on the road?” I say to deaf ears.

“Easy, I do it with cheddar cheese and a side of bacon, that’s how!” he yells back.

At least, Jamie’s attempt to eat a cheeseburger in front of Liv saved me from her picking apart my dirty jeans and a blue sweatshirt.

###

Jamie parks next to all of the other jacked-up modified trucks around the pond. I don’t get it. To the kids in my school, it’s like the higher the truck, the more of a man they are.

“You know what? If you have such an issue with me eating a burger, then maybe we shouldn’t be going out,”

Jamie snaps before slamming the truck door. Liv climbs over me to yell out of the window. “If that’s what you want, it’s fine with me,” she calls, digging her heel into my thigh.

“Ouch! Really? That’s my leg.” I groan, but Liv ignores my obvious pain.

She finally climbs back into her seat, once again inflicting pain as she goes, she exits the truck with me behind her. “Can you believe him? What did I ever see in him?” Liv asks as she slams the truck door shut, glaring at Jamie’s back as he stomps off toward his teammates, who are crowded around a keg of beer.

“That he was the cutest thing to walk the halls of C.F.H, and he treats you like a princess,” I murmur, repeating her words as I rub the sore spot on my leg.

“Some best friend you are,” she snaps and storms off.

“It was a cheeseburger, Liv. One he got at a fast food restaurant. Be angry at the fast food overlords, and not their victims. He’s a victim, just like the poor cow he ate.”

We find a pair of unoccupied, broken beach chairs and sit down next to the fire.

“He is pretty cute,” she says, glancing over at Jamie, who is watching her out of the corner of his eye.

“The cutest,” I agree with her, rolling my eyes. “You should go make up with him.”

“I should, shouldn’t I?” She gazes at Jamie with longing. “He really is a victim, just like countless others.”

She doesn’t wait for me to respond. Instead, she jumps up and jogs over to Jamie, who looks relieved to be in her arms. I see heavy PDA in their near future.

I dig out my trusty notebook and look for my pen. I know it was in my bag earlier. “Where is that thing?”

It’s an ordinary white pen with a black topper. The kind that can be bought by the hundreds from any office supply store. What makes this one different is that it belonged to my mom. She held that pen in her hand the day before she died, twirling it between her fingers as she fussed over bills, biting the end until it was flat and filled with tiny teeth marks. When I use that pen, it’s as if she is still with me, reading my stories over my shoulder.

“It has to be somewhere in here,” I mumble to myself.

“Talking to yourself again, freak?” Buck says, lowering himself into the chair next to me.

Ugh.
I grab half of a pencil and try to ignore Buck’s heavy breathing.
Where is Liv when I need her?
I dare to peek in their direction and find Liv and Jamie in a heavy make-out session.

“Are you turning into a schizo like your crazy aunt?” he taunts, still trying to get a rise out of me.

“Wow, Buck, you’ve only used that line in, like, every other sentence you have ever spoken to me.” I look up into his emotionless face. “Don’t hurt yourself trying to come up with something new.” I sigh and start to read over the last paragraph I wrote.

“Why are you always doing weird things like coloring in your disgusting-looking book?”

“For your information, I’m working on a story, not coloring.” I roll my eyes at him.

“What are you are writing, anyway? Fan-fiction about vampires or something?” Buck snatches my notebook out of my hand.

I try to stay calm because, if he sees me freaking out, it will just escalate the situation.

“I am impressed that you even know what fan-fiction is. Is there something you want to reveal about yourself?” I ask, holding out my hand for my precious notebook. I am trying to play it cool and hide the fact I’m having a complete meltdown on the inside.

“What? Like the fact that I’m awesome, sexy, and absolutely amazing? Then, baby, I am revealing it.”

“Wow, conceited much? Careful, your head is getting bigger,” I warn him.

“You should watch who talk to like that,” he threatens, and just like that, he shows his true nature.

“Or what?” I glare at him.

“Or else something bad might happen to you … or your precious coloring book.”

“I’m not afraid of you.”

“You should be.” He gives me a wicked grin before flipping through the pages and tearing one.

“Hey, be careful.”

I reach over for it, but Buck is bigger and faster. He pushes my hand down and jumps to his feet, holding my notebook just out of my reach. I feel like a little kid trying to get her lunch back from the schoolyard bully.

“I think you need a reminder of who you are talking to and exactly what you are. You’re a freak! A nobody, a loser.” He tears out another page from my beautiful book.

“Stop it, please,” I beg, but he doesn’t stop.

Damn, my short legs.

“You have an attitude, and I think you need to be taught a lesson. This way, you’ll remember that you are nothing. You are beneath me. In fact, you’re lucky I’m even speaking to you,” he taunts.

“If you remember correctly, you came over to speak to me. I have no desire to talk to you, ever.”

He dangles my book over a mud puddle before tearing out another page, and I watch in dismay as my precious words tumble into the muddy water.