Ashes, Oh Ashes

chapter 14

(Sorry for the uber lame super slow and small update . . . but I'm posting two chapters that hopefully make up for it!)

Enjoy!!

We kept throwing the same ideas back and forth on the ride back to my house. Henry drove.

“A party is really the only thing I can think of,” James mumbled, cracking the window in the back seat to keep the car from filling with the acrid smoke.

“Too public.” I reminded him. “Too many people. This idiot has to be alone.”

Henry stared sternly at the desolate road, his hands braced onto the steering wheel tightly. He was thinking- I could tell.

I let the silence fill me so I could think over what I just found out about Ashley. I’d never tell James and Henry unless she told me to—they wouldn’t believe me anyways. Who would? Who would believe a kid known to be drunk or high once about something unnatural like Pyromania? I couldn’t say inhuman- she was more human than anyone I knew.

It was a major relief off my head more than anything else. I didn’t have to worry about her anymore. I would know her reasons for leaving our movie nights early. I would know the reasons for her color changes. I wondered if the twice a month thing was like a regular period. Yeah, I’d probably get slapped if I asked her that- so I decided to forget it.

“Hey!” James slapped the back of my head lightly. “Pay attention, dork.”

“Right behind you, jack-off.” I muttered, getting out of the car to follow the other two into my oh-so-lovely home. Ironically for a kid like me . . . .

My parents weren’t home.

Which meant Henry and James could openly crack open some drinks my dad always had in the cabinets or fridge without having to say “Yes ma’am” or “No sir.”

I went upstairs for a moment, trying to get my scattered thoughts together. I listened faintly to the laugher from the other two downstairs. They’d probably find their way up here once they stuffed their mouth with whatever junk food I had.

I thought about calling Ashley. She seemed fine after she vented her secret. I wondered if she was still holding up alright. Apparently she really trusted me.

I was still dawdling about, wondering what I should do, when two pairs of stomping rushed up the stairs and into my room.

James had two bags of chips stuffed under his arms and a Debbie Cake in his mouth.

Henry followed with two two-liter sodas.

I smirked. They had no sense of boundaries, did they?

“Ish nof ahl yer stuh.” James mumbled, mouth full of cake.

“He said we didn’t eat all your stuff,” Henry translated, plopping down onto my chair and flipping on my TV.

James grinned and stuffed the rest of the cake into his mouth. Ew.

“By the way, I thought of something,” Henry continued.

I turned to face him, grabbing one of the chip bags and sitting on my bed. James sprawled out on the floor- back down- for whatever odd reason. Sometimes he was too weird for me to question.

“Yeah?” I asked.

He looked at me deviously- and I could tell it was something ingenious. “Have Ashley write a note. Yeah, I mean her. I don’t know, make it a secret rendezvous or something. Will he fall for it? Yes—“ he held up a finger to keep me from interrupting. “Because she’s going to threaten him. She’s a charmer- and he’ll get too pissed to think about it being anything other than what it’s really going to be.”

~

She stared at me skeptically. She raised a firm eyebrow at the pen and paper I held out to her.

I didn’t have to guess that she didn’t like this idea. But this was getting done, so that blackmailing bastard could finally be out of her life.

So, I stood there, holding out the pen and paper.

She crossed her arms.

I kept a blank face.

She scowled at the objects, then at me.

My arms were staring to burn.

She huffed, waiting.

I sighed, giving up and letting my arms drop to my sides. “Look, you have to do this. Do you want him gone or not?”

“I don’t have the will in me to send a fake threat!”

“Then I’ll write it!” I rolled my eyes. “Let me see what your handwriting looks like.”

Ashley just slowly shook her head in disbelief. I couldn’t believe how resistant she was to this. Only days ago she openly proclaimed to be ready for anything at this point, but now she couldn’t write a damn note?!

Sometimes I really wondered about that girl.

“Alright,” she chirped. I didn’t like her tone. “You have to do something for me first.”

I wanted to fall over laughing.

But then I realized just how serious her devious little mind could be. So, cautiously, I asked what.

She smirked- and already I knew I was in trouble. “You have to watch The Green Mile with me.”

“That’s it?!”

Her face dropped into a sincere look. “Oh Matt, please, please, please, pleeease?”

I gave her a look. “We watch movies all the time. We’ve both seen that movie. Is that really it, Ash? A movie? For you to write a fake note?”

“Shutter Island. I change my mind!”

I opened my mouth to speak, but she cut me off, whirling over to her dresser and already brushing out her mahogany hair. “I want to watch it tonight, if that’s alright. I’m a bit busy for the weekend with my art fills.”

“Right,” I mumbled, totally confused. “So you’ll write the note?”

I saw her roll her eyes through the mirror. “Yes, dummy.”

I smirked.

“How mean do I have to be?”

“Enough to make him go out in the middle of nowhere.”

She gave me a look. “What do you mean?”

“Nothing. Make it pretty.”

She just stared at me until I answered correctly. All I had told her was that we were going to beat the shit out of Brian and needed him to come to us. I hadn’t exactly explained that the house was in the middle of nowhere and under Lucas’s name.

I grumbled and explained.

She crossed her arms again.

“Oh come on!” I whined. “You just agreed to it!”

She shrugged. “I don’t like it.”

“I know.”

She grimaced. “Hand it here . . . .”