Revenge of the Homecoming Queen Page 3

  “Oh, really? Like what?”

  Great. Now I have to lie so I don’t look like a total natural-resource hog. Oh, well. Here goes.

  “I’m a vegetarian,” I state proudly.

  “That’s kind of hypocritical, don’t you think? I mean considering how many cows had to die for those boots of yours.” He glances over at my boots that are practically sitting in my lap courtesy of this joke of a car of his.

  “I wear animals, I just don’t eat them,” I say, clarifying my made-up vegetarian status for Rand.

  “Huh? So I guess that must have been a double tofu burger you were eating today and not a double cheeseburger?” He laughs.

  I narrow my eyes into slits and give him one of the dirtiest looks out of my arsenal. He continues laughing. His behavior is completely outrageous. A D-lister making fun of an A-lister? I swear the whole world has gone insane today.

  “Whatever.” Not exactly my wittiest comeback, but it’s been such a crappy day that I’m in no mood to spar with the biggest geek in school. I’m starting to think I should have just let the janitor bust me. He chuckles as he makes a left on Spruce Street, heading for my house.

  “How do you know where I live?” Ewww, I hope he’s not some psycho A-list stalker.

  “Aspen, everybody knows where you live. This is Comfort, population twenty-five hundred, not New York City. Don’t worry, I’m not stalking you,” he says, reading my mind.

  “Well, I sure don’t know where you live.” This, of course, is kind of a lie; after all, this is Comfort. But I’ve never actually seen his house; I just know that he lives a little outside of town, off a dirt road. But between this car and Rand’s atrocious outfit, I’m starting to think all these rumors about him being rich are total myths. There is probably a double-wide at the end of that dirt road instead of some mansion.

  Oh. My. God. It just occurred to me that I am riding around town with Rand Bachrach. If anybody sees me, I will never live this down. I try to slouch down in my seat, but with my legs pushed up against the dash it doesn’t really work so well. I just end up with a huge wedgie.

  “Don’t worry, Aspen. Nobody’s going to see you. Oh, and you’re welcome by the way.”

  Okay, so maybe I’ve been a little rude. I guess it’s not Rand’s fault he’s a dork. You don’t really get to pick your social standing in life. Although getting a stylist wouldn’t kill him either. But he did give me a ride home, and he didn’t bust me out with the janitor, so I guess he’s kinda cool.

  After what feels like an eternity, we pull in the driveway of my parents Cape Cod style home. I’m so not looking forward to this awkward good-bye. I mean Rand seems like an okay guy, but we are just from two different worlds. Just as I am about to give him a big fake smile and thanks, I remember, that like a total idiot, I forgot to get my garage door opener out of Cookie and since I never carry keys and my parents won’t be home for another hour I would only be able to run to the front porch and stand there looking like a grade A dork.

  “Listen, I’m sorry for being a jerk before. I just get really sensitive when it comes to environmental issues,” he says, running one of his hands through his unkempt curls.

  I totally don’t get people who get worked up about dwindling oil supply or a hole in the ozone layer. I mean, we can totally start drilling in Alaska if we need to and it’s not like any of us will be around when the sun’s rays start melting people so let future generations worry about that stuff. Jeez!

  “I’m sorry you didn’t get queen. I know you really wanted that tiara,” Rand says.

  How in the world would he know what I want? He doesn’t even know me. It was kind of sweet of him to give me his condolences though.

  “The girls are going to be lining up now that you’re king,” I tell him. Of course I know that’s total BS, but I felt like I should say something nice back. After all, it was my bonehead boyfriend who did this, so I do feel a tiny bit responsible.

  “The one I really want won’t be.” He answers back, giving me a funny look. I wonder who he’s talking about? Before I can ask, he says, “I’m sure you have better things to do then sit here chatting with me. Besides, I need to get home and call Angel to tell her what you wrote on her locker.” He laughs, giving me a wink. His smile shows off a really great set of pearly whites. He almost looks cute, not that I’d ever admit that to anyone, not even Tobi. But, just for a split second, I saw potential.

  I’m obviously just overly exhausted. I’ve still got the bonfire tonight. I’d rather just go inside, take a hot bath, climb into bed, and forget this horrible day ever happened. But, I’m locked out and sitting in the freezing cold waiting at least an hour on my parents doesn’t sound appealing so I’m going to have to ask Rand for another favor.

  “Very funny. Um, actually, Rand, I’m kind of locked out. I left my garage door opener in my car and I never carry keys,” I confess, rolling my eyes.

  “Your parents aren’t home either, huh? I guess we’re stuck with each other for a little bit longer then. I’d offer to take you back to the school, but that renegade janitor may still be on the lookout for us. You’ll just have to come home with me.”

  “No, that’s okay. My parents should be home any minute. Can we just wait here?” I ask, a little nervous. Rand seems nice, but what if he’s really a freak. I mean he must be on the D-list for some reason. He could slip me a roofie, take my picture on the sly, and then show all of his geeky friends how much of a stud he was snagging a homecoming princess. It would be like Sixteen Candles when Anthony Michael Hall drives the drunk popular girl home. No way. That may sound extreme, but the way this day has gone nothing would surprise me.

  While I am daydreaming about how Rand would love to take advantage of me, he has pulled away from the curb and starts heading away from my house. I’m nervous, which is not a common emotion for me. I contemplate jumping from the car, but road rash would not be a good look for my flawless complexion.

  “It wouldn’t be very gentlemanly of me to leave you out in the cold, now would it? Let’s go get some coffee while we wait for your parents.”

  “Oh, okay.” I try not to laugh out loud at how dramatic I was being just a second ago.

  As Rand navigates the streets of Comfort he suddenly turns to me and asks, “So what is someone like you doing with Lucas Riley anyway?” He says Lucas’s name like it is some sort of sexually transmitted disease.

  “What do you mean, someone like me?”

  “You know, beautiful, smart, could choose anyone?”

  He said I was beautiful. I can’t help but smile and feel a little more relaxed. I never tire of compliments on my looks even if they are coming from someone who wouldn’t know beauty from a hole in the ground. “Lucas is handsome, popular, and he’s the quarterback of the football team.”

  “Those are all superficial things,” he says sarcastically. “By the way, I noticed you didn’t say anything about intelligence.”

  This guy doesn’t miss a trick. Is there such a thing as an overly observant male? If so, Rand Bachrach definitely fits the part. “No, he definitely isn’t the brains of the operation, but it’s just a senior year thing. Next year we’ll be going off to college and we’ll forget all about each other.”

  “That’s the weirdest thing I’ve ever heard. Why would you want to waste your senior year with someone you’re planning on forgetting in nine months?”

  “I’m just saying, it’s not that serious.”

  “Aspen, I’ve got to tell you. I had you all wrong. I took you for someone so passionate she wouldn’t waste one ounce of herself with the wrong guy.”

  “I’m not saying he’s the wrong guy. You’re twisting my words. He is special, okay? Let’s just leave it at that.”

  “Okay, sorry. It’s really none of my business anyway.”

  “I know you think I’m shallow,” I hear myself saying.

  “That’s one thing I’ve never thought,” he says, gazing deep into my eyes. I feel my stomach drop, pro
bably because I’ve only had a bag of Cheetos and a Coke to eat today.

  “What’s your poison?” He asks, confusing me until I realize we’ve arrived at the drive-thru of the local coffee shop.

  “Oh, just a hot chocolate. But I want it made with two percent milk, not water, and topped with whipped cream and chocolate shavings. And don’t forget a straw.”

  “You drink hot chocolate through a straw?”

  “What?” I give him a playful dirty look, challenging him to make fun of my drinking habits. “It’s just that I always dribble on my shirt if I don’t use a straw. Look at this outfit, it would not look good with chocolate dribbled all over it,” I explain as Rand raises his eyebrows and tries not to laugh. He gives the voice in the speaker our order, then pulls around to the window. I reach my hands through my legs to try to grab my purse. Rand realizes I’m going for my money and stops me, gently grazing my hand. He jerks his arm back like touching me burned him.

  “It’s on me.” He turns his attention back to the window and hands the girl a twenty. I’m still stuck back on that touch because I felt something, too. It must have just been static electricity, but I wonder why I have butterflies in my stomach. As I push this thought aside Rand hands me my drink. I stick the straw through the tiny opening and sip carefully so I don’t burn myself. And as usual, my order is wrong. You always get screwed at the drive-thru. I could make a big fuss, but Rand probably already thinks I’m a total snob, so I’m just gonna keep my mouth shut for once.

  “Did they get your order right?” He places his coffee in the miniscule drink holder. There is definitely no room in here for a Big Gulp.

  “Um, it’s fine. Thanks.”

  “What’s wrong?” He takes my drink from me, pops the lid to find no whipped cream, no chocolate shavings, and a very obviously watered-down hot chocolate. He bangs on the window and the girl returns.

  “Hi, miss, I ordered this with two percent milk, whipped cream, and chocolate shavings. None of those things are present. Would you be a sweetheart and fix this for me?” He blinds her with the same smile I saw just a second ago. A smile I wouldn’t have thought him capable of. She starts to blush, and then guiltily glances at me. She must think I’m his girlfriend or something. As if! She scurries off to hopefully fix my hot chocolate. I would never have taken Rand for an order returner. It takes balls to return an order, and most people just don’t have ‘em. Just the other day, Lucas took me to McDonald’s and I ordered a cheeseburger with no onions. Of course, there were onions on it. When I asked Lucas to complain, he drove off and told me to just scrape them off. Ugh, as if the onion juice hadn’t already polluted the entire burger.

  Maybe there is a little more to Rand Bachrach than I thought. I start doodling in the condensation on the window and before I know it I’ve drawn a huge heart.

  “Gee, thanks, Aspen. Now I’ve got to clean my windows.” He hands me my new and improved drink, pulling me out of my daze.

  I snap back and admire my artwork. “Oops, sorry. It’s been a long day. I guess I’m sort of out of it.” I take a sip of my drink and I swear it is the best hot chocolate I’ve ever had. “Yum, I think I’ll take you with me in the drive-thru more often.” I say, then immediately regret it, afraid that Rand will think I’m hitting on him or something.

  “Shoot, that’s nothing. You should taste my mom’s. She uses our company’s chocolate and some other secret ingredients. She could patent it, I swear. You’ll have to try it some time.” He gives me a little wink while sipping his black coffee.

  “Yeah, sure.” I’ll go have hot chocolate with you and your mom right about the time monkeys fly out of my butt. I have to admit Rand seems totally sweet, but I seriously doubt that our orbits will ever cross again after today.

  As Rand steers his hybrid banana of a car out of the coffee shop drive-thru his headlights flash on a familiar vehicle.

  “Hey, drive over there for a sec,” I say, pointing in the opposite direction.

  Rand cranks the steering wheel and the car spins around toward the deserted parking lot of the local mini-mall. Rand’s headlights illuminate the familiar license plate confirming my suspicion.

  “Is that your mom’s car?” Rand asks, coming to a stop.

  “Why?” I ask, defensive.

  “The license plates say Aspen’s Mom so I just thought maybe … ” Rand trails off.

  I don’t hear him because I am scanning the darkened storefronts trying to figure out what Mom’s car would be doing here. There has to be a reasonable explanation, but for some reason I feel nauseous.

  “Are you okay? You look kind of green,” Rand says, concerned.

  “Can you just take me home?” I plead.

  When we pull up to the house Dad’s side of the garage is open and his prized pickup is pulled inside.

  “Do you need a ride to the bonfire tonight? It would be no problem to come and get you,” Rand offers, his eyes filled with hope. I hate to crush him, but I can’t be getting his hopes up by telling him yes. Besides, how would it look if I showed up to the bonfire with him? I should do it just to piss Lucas off, but I’m a bigger person than that.

  “No, thanks, Rand. Lucas had already planned to come pick me up.” Which is a total lie but won’t be once I get inside and call him.

  “Well, okay. I guess I’ll see ya tonight then.” And before I can respond he has jumped out of the car and is rushing around to open my door. I’m not going to lie; it is kind of cool to be treated like such a lady. Lucas could definitely take some lessons from Rand on how to treat women. He wouldn’t open my door for me if his life depended on it. But I guess Rand probably doesn’t get girls in his car very often, so he’s thought things out a lot.

  I grab my purse in one hand and my drink in the other and lift myself out of the car. My legs are wobbly from being scrunched up for so long and Rand steadies me as I start to fall against the car. There’s that spark again. Weird. There must be tons of static electricity in the air tonight.

  “Thanks, Rand. This was super cool of you. I’ll see you tonight.” I start to turn and walk through the open garage, then I turn back around. Rand is already back inside the car when I approach him. He lowers his window.

  “I’m sure it’s nothing, but could you maybe not say anything to anyone about seeing my mom’s car tonight? “ I ask him.

  He clenches his lips together then uses his fingers to act like he’s zipping them shut. He tosses the imaginary key over his shoulder, waves, and backs out of the driveway. He beeps his cheesy hybrid horn and waves goofily as he drives away. I can’t help but laugh and realize that I had Rand Bachrach pegged all wrong.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Pumpkin isn’t normally a color I would choose for myself. But Mom, being the fashion guru that she is, thought I needed a fallish-type sweater for the bonfire tonight. I’m modeling it for her now. With my blonde hair and periwinkle eyes I’m definitely a spring, but as I gaze at my reflection in a full-length mirror I realize that someone like me doesn’t have to be restricted to one season. I look pretty great in every color.

  “I’d kill for your complexion, Aspen. You look amazing in any color,” Mom gushes, while pulling the price tag off a new pair of khakis to go with my sweater. “Your boots will look really good with this outfit,” she adds, jealously eyeing my new leather boots and making me glad that we don’t wear the same shoe size.

  “I wore those today so I can’t wear them again until at least Thursday. Besides, these are more comfortable for outdoors,” I hold up a pair of brown suede clogs.

  “Maybe you should think about putting some of your allowance in your college fund instead of buying more shoes and purses. What do you think?” Mom says, not taking her eyes off my boots. I just know she’s going to be shoving her size-ten hooves into my perfect size-six boots the minute I walk out the door. Maybe I should hide them before I leave.

  “Oh, you’re a good one to talk, Little-Miss-has-the-Credit-Card-Bill-Sent-to-a-Post-Office- Box-So-Her-H
usband-Doesn’t-See-It.”

  She whips her head up with so much force I’m afraid it might come off as she stares at me with huge eyes. “H … H … How do you know about that?”

  “I’m wise beyond my years, and I don’t miss a thing that goes on in this house, Mother dear.”

  “In my defense, most of the stuff I buy is for you.” She pushes her new Coach bag behind her back.

  “Oh, the sacrifices you make.” I dramatically hold my hand across my heart. We start into one of our famous mother-daughter fits of laughter.

  “Judy, where have you been?” my dad asks, busting into my room looking flustered. Mom quickly bends the price tags in her palm. My dad is like a total cheapskate. An example would be the time he tried to make us reuse paper plates by turning them over. My mom threatened to divorce him. He would probably give himself an aneurysm if he found out that she bought me a new outfit just to go hang out by a gigantic pile of burning wood. Or that her new purse would probably pay for the textbooks my first semester of college, but what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him. Men just don’t understand the price you have to pay to look good.

  “Don’t you remember me telling you that I had to work late tonight?” Mom asks him.

  “Oh, that’s right,” Dad says, slapping his forehead. “I just get nervous when I can’t find my girl.” He wraps his arms around Mom’s tiny waist and gives her a squeeze. I swear, they are the cutest old couple ever.

  “So, let me see it,” Dad says to me.

  “See what?” I ask, confused.

  “The tiara that you’ve been coveting for the last year of your life.”

  “Oh,” I say, disappointed. “I didn’t get it.”

  “Oh, babe. I’m so sorry,” Dad says, squeezing my arm.

  “It’s no biggie,” I lie. I am still disappointed about losing to Angel, but right now my mind is back on why Mom just lied to Dad about where she was tonight.