Ashes, Oh Ashes

chapter 9

“Your dad seems to like me.” She giggled on our way to Armstrong.

“Yeah,” I scoffed. “Anyone that agrees with him is his pet.”

She stuck out her tongue at me as I pulled into the small parking lot. She had let me drive her car since I was only a month away from getting my license back. I needed to practice again.

“That’s a great retort,” I teased. “Where’d you pick up that one?”

“Che-Che!” she giggled and flitted out of her car.

I laughed and noted how well her black dress clung to her curves. It was imprinted with tiny, red polka-dots, but didn’t look gaudy in the least bit. Red trim and crinoline added delicate touches to the cuteness of her retro-look. Her pumps were bright red today, and she wasn’t wearing any stockings or hose.

“How is my bow?” she asked, patting the large, black bow-clip that was holding some of her hair at the back of her head. So she had noticed my stare. Oops.

I shrugged. I wasn’t sure how to answer that.

She giggled. “You crack me up. Always afraid to say the wrong thing.”

I went along with that, even though that wasn’t even what I was thinking. I nodded

She smiled and turned on the asphalt, her heels clicking with familiar resonance. I followed her, ignoring the stares we received as usual from the others, until we found James sitting at our usual waiting-place.

“Guten morgen.” She greeted softly.

“No, I do not have any of those.” James answered.

I laughed. “Even I know that means ‘good morning’, idiot.”

“You never know.” He calmly responded. “She could’ve been calling me a malignant disease from a monkey’s arse.”

“Arse?” she mumbled.

I sniggered. “Yes James. Because Ashes is so malicious and spitefully cruel.”

He grinned impishly and snubbed out his morning dose of nicotine.

“So, tomorrow, are we going to watch The Green Mile?” she asked, like usual and weekly.

“I hate sappy movies!” he complained.

“Yes,” I answered her. James could get over himself. “I’ll bring 9 while I’m at it.”

“The one with Cher?” James wrinkled his nose.

“No, the Tim Burton one.” She answered.

“Oh!” he brightened. “Alright, cool.”

“And Henry?”

“He’ll be busy this weekend. Has to help his uncle at the mechanic shop.” I responded, stretching my arms and feeling the tautness of my less-than-awake muscles.

~

Ashley was aflame today. I could predict her now. I betted right then that her hair, eyes and skin would return to a dull luster by tomorrow. I still hadn’t gotten the nerve to ask her why she seemed to change color, but the still-awkwardness of such a question made me hesitate. Besides, she had never mentioned it, so why bother?

As it turned out, I was right about my prediction. The very next day her bright-scarlet was a dark burgundy. But it still stood significantly out against her favorite gray dress.

I had yet to see her in pants or shorts besides her pajama-pants the few times I had spent the night or vice versa. It didn’t bother me, but she had gotten fair shares of vile gossip from the other girls about her choice of apparel.