Relying On Ben and Jerry (Waltham #1)

Chapter Twelve: Caught White and Nerdy

“I don’t care what Mom has to say,” I mocked in a high-pitch voice.  “I’m not getting seen with the school freak. That’s, like, totally uncool. YOU WANT TO KNOW WHAT IS COOL, FELTON? BLOODY HOMICIDE, THAT’S WHAT!”

It wasn’t enough that I had run across the student parking lot flailing my arms with a pair of fairy wings on, and didn’t stop even when my brother floored on the gas and I was hanging off of the back of the car with my legs swinging all over the place—I had to talk to myself, too. With a lot of emphasis and screaming and I think I stomped my foot once.

Mud flew as that became twice.

“He’s such a jerk!” I announced loudly to the sky. It’s only reply was a rumble of thunder, soon accompanied by a sudden increase in the downpour of rain. I groaned helplessly and kicked violently at the puddles, reaching up to bury my fingers in my wet, stringy hair.

Boy did I hope I was adopted.

So, long story short, it seems that everyone forgot about the sneak-out-ability of Felton’s room, and he suddenly found he didn’t care how many times he was going to be grounded if he could just as easily sneak out without having to end up being associated with me. Needless to say, his tiny brain finally came to its first decision in a long time that didn’t involve ham, and my brother decided to floor it the moment he saw me running at the car across the parking lot, leaving me stranded there. Again. In fairy wings.

I glanced at the nearest pole and contemplated repeatedly slamming my head against it.

I had thought that my day couldn’t have possibly gotten worse.

I was constantly teased.

I wore an old lady cardigan.

I was screamed at by a choir director with Albert Einstein hair to sound like a five hundred pound Russian plow woman.

I was left stranded at school.

Days like these, I wondered why I was even born, and if it was possibly just because I was being filmed and broadcasted to someone sitting on their couch and eating popcorn and laughing at my life. Just laughing.

A lightning bolt flashed across the sky, and I sighed to myself woefully.

As a Floridian, I couldn’t even wrap my head around the slush that was Waltham—there was some crazy mixture of snow and freezing water and black ice on the ground. The wind chilled me to the bone and made me wish that I had thought to throw a jacket into the backpack, even if I knew I couldn’t, that it wouldn’t be crazy enough for Aubrey’s idea of entertainment. A breeze crashed down around me, spraying water in my face along with the wind, and I did this weird combination of shivering and hissing through my teeth as they chattered, but basically it just made me sound like a walking mariachi band.

I soldiered on, pushing forward through the torrential rain, muttering to myself some more as if it was the most normal thing to do in the world.

“I know where he sleeps,” I reminded myself in a murmur, thinking hard. “Dad has rat poison. Enough to make him sick. Maybe . . . No, not good enough. Smother him with a pillow? Next time. I think a machete would—”

An air horn sounded directly behind me. I would have opened my mouth and screamed if I was a normal person, but since there’s something wrong with me I immediately dove to the side, rolling until I was crouched behind a shrub in someone’s yard.

“MAN DOWN!” I screamed, reaching up to cover my head. “Please don’t rape me!”

“Lena?” I heard a voice call through the rain, sounding both concerned and amused. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you—I just knew you wouldn’t be able to hear me. I guess I could have gone a little easy with sitting on the horn, huh?”