Ella's Twisted Senior Year (16 page)

The recipe for a Crazy Ex-girlfriend sells fifty more shirts overnight. By Monday, one hundred and fifteen people have bought one, and Ella has already made a list of all the baking supplies she’ll buy with her earnings. She acts like she doesn’t want to go to prom but I’ve seen her admiring the photo of her prom dress on more than one occasion. It leaves me stuck in the middle of wanting to drag her out to prom just so she can wear the dress and also wanting to blow it off because I don’t really want to go

I kiss her goodbye before first period and watch her turn the corner to her history class. “Hey, April,” I call out, jogging to catch up with her and Toby.

“What’s up?” she asks.

“Dude,” I say to Toby, pointing at his shirt. “Did you pay for rush shipping?”

He nods casually. “I have to support my boy, after all. I wanted to wear it before everyone else gets theirs.”

I bump my knuckles to his. “Nice.”

“These shirts are way better than Ella’s poster idea,” April says, nodding to Toby’s shirt. “I’ve already heard people saying they’re going to buy one. Seems like the whole school is on your side after her little social media rant.”

We pass some girls from student council hanging up prom posters in the wall. “Hey, so, the reason I wanted to talk to you is about prom.”

April lifts an eyebrow. “Did Ella finally admit that she actually wants to go?”

I shrug instead of giving her a real answer. “Do know where that pink dress is sold? The one she has a picture of?”

“Yeah, it’s at the Galleria. A store called Dress Fantasy.”

“You gonna wear a dress to prom, Poe?” Toby says.

I wiggle my eyebrows at him. “You wish.”

By seventh period, Ella’s shirt has been ordered fifty more times. It’s now ranked as my most popular shirt on my storefront and I almost want to turn off email notifications because my phone is blowing up nonstop in class.

I haven’t seen Kennedy all day, and by Wednesday when most people’s shirt orders come in, she’s been a complete ghost. Maybe she learned her lesson about messing with us and decided to keep her distance. Probably not, but, a guy can hope.

The school hallways are a sea of navy blue shirts. I get high-fived several times and Ella gets quite a few impressed looks as we make our way to lunch.

“Okay, as soon as I see a teacher wearing one of these shirts, I’m gonna lose my mind,” Ella says, taking a place behind me in the lunch line. “I can’t believe this has worked out so well. I almost feel evil.”

I grab a tray and fill it with a slice of pizza, a soda, and some cheese fries. “Me too, but as soon as those thoughts cross my mind, I just remember what she posted about me online and suddenly, I’m okay with it.”

She lets her head lean against my arm for a second, her adorable little consoling gesture. “Don’t worry, it’ll be over soon. I can’t wait to be out of this sham they call a high school education.”

She takes an order of cheese fries and grabs the squirt bottle of ranch, drowning the things in the stuff.

I go to pay for our food and she holds out her hand to stop me. “I got mine today.”

“I don’t mind buying your food.”

Ella gives me a pointed look. “Dad gave me some cash today, so I’m good.”

I’m not about to argue with her in front of the lunch lady so I pay for my food and wait while she pays for hers. It’s funny how a few weeks ago I was so annoyed when Kennedy would expect me to buy everything for her. Now I have a girlfriend who doesn’t need my help and all I want to do is shower her with all the things she wants.

Like that prom dress.

It’s raining outside so we’re forced to sit in the cafeteria for the first time since we’ve been a couple. “Where to?” Ella asks, looking around the half-filled cafeteria.

Toby appears behind us, his tray filled with three hot dogs and pizza. “The regular table, or somewhere else?”

I shrug. “We could sit with the guys, I guess.”

Toby scowls. “Yeah, but now we both have beautiful girls to spend our time with. That table is a freaking sausage fest that only talks about football.”

“Touché,” April says, holding up a hand with bright red nails.

“Oh my god.” Ella pretends to gag herself with her finger, her food tray balanced in the other hand. “Who even are you?”

April laughs and glances back at Toby. Something passes between them and I think it’s pretty cool that they seem to like each other so much for being a random match. All I had done was pick the nicest guy from my group of friends and introduce them and now they’re a thing.

We choose a table at the far right of the cafeteria, and although no one says it, I know this spot was chosen by the four of us collectively because it’s as far away from Kennedy’s table of cheerleaders as you can get.

I don’t see her though, not that I’m looking. I’m pretty sure she hasn’t been to school all week. That, or she’s really good at avoiding me. Too bad she didn’t bring out those evasive skills the day after we broke up. Maybe then this whole mess could have been avoided.

My knee touches Ella’s under the lunch table. She steals some of my fries even though she has her own so I steal a drink of her sweet tea for no reason other than I know I can. We’ve slipped back into our old best friend ways only now there’s the added (and most important) benefit of getting to make out.

Ella scoots closer to me on the bench seat. “So, I’ve been meaning to ask you something,” she says, staring at her food.

“What is it?”

She swirls the straw around in her drink and casts a glance toward Toby and April who are laughing at a video on Toby’s phone. “Does Kennedy have . . .
other
things she could use against you? Like more texts or dirty photos or something?”

“Nope,” I say confidently, since I’ve already thought that over myself. I’m not the type of guy to send naked photos and that one conversation we’d had about sex was the only one I can remember having. “She doesn’t have anything else unless she wants to make something up. We’re good.”

“Cool,” Ella says as her shoulders relax. “I don’t want any more surprises. I just want this feud to be over.”

Principal Reynolds walks over to our table just as the bell rings. He clears his throat. “Which one of you is Ethan Poe?”

Ella’s eyes widen and she grabs my hand.

“I am,” I say, standing and untangling myself from Ella. I put on the best innocent expression I can. “What’s going on?”

“You drive the red Ford?”

I nod. “Uh, yeah?”

His lips flatten into a thin line. “Come with me.”

I give a helpless look to Ella and follow him down the long hallway that leads at the student parking lot. “Can I ask what’s going on?” I say just to break the silence. “Am I in trouble?”

“Not with the school, you aren’t.” Mr. Reynolds says. “But you’re either a target of random acts of vandalism, or you’ve pissed someone off, son.”

“I don’t understand,” I say, but then I stop short in the middle of the parking lot. The school cop is parked in front of my truck, his lights on while he fills out some paperwork on a clipboard. That’s not what makes me curse under my breath.

It’s the busted windows that catch my attention first. Every single pane of glass has been shattered. All four tires slashed. The headlights lie in broken pieces on the asphalt and Mr. Reynolds has the nerve to say, “At least they didn’t scratch up the paint, kid.”

My stomach launches itself into my throat. The cop walks over to me. “Any idea who might have done this?”

“Yeah.” My voice is heavy, my fists hurting from how hard I clench them together. “I know exactly who did this.”

Halfway through fifth period, I get a text from Ethan.

Need to talk. Meet me in the science hallway.

I ask to use the restroom and then book it across campus to the science hall. Ethan is pacing between two classrooms, his shoulders up near his ears and his expression far away.

“What’s going on?” I ask. Gallons of rage are pouring off him in all directions, so I know this isn’t a romantic scheme to steal a kiss in the middle of class. “Ethan?” I say, to pull him out of his daze.

He sighs through his nose. “Kennedy took this whole thing too far.”

“Oh no, what happened?” I reach to my back pocket, realizing too late that I left my phone in my purse in class. “What’d she post this time?”

“It’s not a post,” he says, shaking his head. He unlocks his phone screen and finds something on his phone, then turns it to me. “She got physical.”

I don’t understand what I’m seeing at first. The photo on his phone shows his truck all smashed up and my first thought—stupid as it is—is that another tornado must have whirled through the parking lot. But of course that’s not the case; we would have heard about that. I hold the phone closer, peering at the damage inflicted onto his shiny red truck. “Kennedy did this?”

“Of course she did.” Ethan’s chest rises, his jaw flexing. “You know she did. And yet there’s no damn evidence to prove it.”

He shakes his head and continues pacing. “I just got back from a meeting with the principal where they said
someone
vandalized my truck but they can’t know who. You know those cameras on the light poles? Turns out they don’t work.”

My heart aches for Ethan but I can’t say anything because he’s going off on a rampage now. “I
told
them it was Kennedy and they even called her parents but she’s home ‘sick’, yeah right.” He makes air quotes with his fingers. “The bitch got pissed about our shirt and then took it out on my truck. Or maybe she hired someone else to do it. We know she did it. And now Dad is pissed. He had to get a wrecker to come haul my truck to the shop.”

“Wow.” I touch his arm and he stops pacing and turns to face me. I reach for his hand and he lets me take it. “I’m really sorry, Ethan. This sucks and she won’t get away with it. We’ll make sure she pays.”

His lips press into a thin line as he inhales a sharp breath. “I appreciate the fire in your words, Ella. You’re a fighter and that’s sexy as hell. But maybe we should let this go. I mean, what’s next? Will she hire someone to take out my knees with a metal pipe?”

I sigh. “You need to file a police report.”

“Already did.” He drags his hand down his face. “Insurance will fix my truck. I just hate that she got to me. I
hate
that she won.”

I shake my head. “She hasn’t won. Is your truck already towed?”

“Yeah. Toby said he’ll give us a ride home.”

I use Ethan’s phone to check social media. So far every app he has is completely free of any talk about his smashed up truck. “Did anyone see your truck besides you and the principal?”

“Just the school cop, why?”

I grin. “I don’t think anyone knows. Word never got out and your truck is gone so no one knows. And if Kennedy wants to post something about it to tell everyone, then it’ll make her look guilty as hell.” I put a hand on his shoulder and look him in those beautiful dark eyes. “Don’t worry. That bitch hasn’t won anything.”

*

The dinner table is a strictly Poe affair tonight since both of my parents are working late. Dad has a twenty-four-hour shift and Mom doesn’t get off until eight. Tensions are high as we sit around the dinner table, and it’s not because Mrs. Poe won’t tell us all of the ingredients in her eggplant veggie pasta.

Mr. Poe stares at his dinner fork like it’s done something to offend him. “You think it was a rival football team?” He points the fork at Ethan. “Some kind of prank to WCHS’s quarterback? Man, if we find out who did it, there will be some hell to pay.”

“It wasn’t football related, Dad.” Ethan takes a tentative bite of something green from his plate. I think it’s zucchini but it tastes spicy with the sauce that’s baked into it. “This has nothing to do with sports.”

“Well it must be a random act of violence then,” Mr. Poe says. His graying eyebrows pull together. “Kids these days get jealous of people having nice things. They probably don’t even care who owns the truck and just wanted to be heathens.”

Ethan’s shoulders tense while his dad keeps rambling on, dissecting today’s youth and how they don’t have respect for anything. Mrs. Poe is taking pictures of her plate, probably for her blog or Instagram and she doesn’t seem to care that her son’s very expensive truck was smashed to bits in the parking lot.

Ethan sighs. “Dad, it’s none of that. It was Kennedy.”

Now Mrs. Poe looks interested. “What makes you say that?”

“Because she hates me for breaking up with her.” He pushes his plate away and drops the fork on top of the uneaten pasta. “I know it was her but they said there’s no evidence so they’re not doing anything about it.”

“Oh honey, you don’t know that for sure. It was probably random like your dad said.”

He chuckles sarcastically. “Mom, I know my life. It was Kennedy. She’s pissed at me for breaking up with her and for not going with her to prom and now it’s not good enough to blast me online she had to blast apart my car as well. You don’t have to believe me, but it is what it is.”

Mrs. Poe’s eyes widen. “Blast you online?”

“Trust me, you don’t want to know.”

“Speak to your mother with respect,” Mr. Poe says, his dominating voice booming over the dinner table. Even Dakota flinches and she’s not the one being yelled at. “You can think whatever you want about who smashed your truck but I’m the one shelling out the higher insurance cost from now on. If you really think the girl did it, then maybe you should stop dating crazy airheads.”

Mrs. Poe chuckles. “That is some solid advice, honey.”

“No need to worry about that,” Dakota says. She takes a sly sip of her sweet tea and looks at Ethan and me. “I don’t think his next girlfriend will be nearly as crazy as Kennedy.”

“Next girlfriend?” Mrs. Poe lifts an eyebrow. “Aren’t you two . . ?”

Mr. Poe clears his throat. “Not while they’re in the same house, I should hope.”

Flames burst over my skin as Mr. Poe’s insinuation proceeds to embarrass the hell out of me.

“We’re just—” I begin, but Ethan finishes for me when I can’t think of how to end my sentence.

“Dating,” he says, throwing me a sly grin. “But we’re taking it slow, so you don’t need to worry about anything.”

Dakota giggles and Mrs. Poe looks up from her phone. “I knew it!” She points a manicured finger toward her husband. “You called it like ten years ago.”

“Called what?” Mom asks, walking into the room in her Hello Kitty scrubs. Her hair is tied up in a messy bun on top of her head.

“I thought you were working late?” I say at the same time Mrs. Poe says, “Our kids are dating.”

Mom’s smile goes all the way to her eyes. “It’s about time,” she says, ruffling my hair as she walks by. “We called that a long time ago,” she says, giving Mr. Poe a high five.

She drops her purse on the counter and gets a plate from the cabinet. I’m not sure if it’s medically possible to blush so much that your skin melts off, but it might be a good idea to throw a pitcher of ice water on my head right now, just in case.

We’ve just pretty much admitted we’re an official couple to our family and they’re all laughing about it like they knew it all along. I sink down into my chair and Dakota meets my gaze. “Remember a long time ago when we used to plan out your wedding to my brother?”

“Oh my god, let’s not talk about this,” I say, eyeing the ice water in the middle of the table.

“Wait, I want to hear,” Ethan says. Mom joins us at the table and fills her plate with the veggie pasta.

“Let’s not talk about weddings, okay? Ya’ll are way too young. But I do have great news, Ella. Your dad and I found a rental house.”

I force a smile. A few weeks ago I would have been over the moon to move out of Ethan’s house, but that was—of course—when I hated him. Now the idea of not having him down the hallway at night makes me sad. Of course, I realize that normal high school seniors don’t get to live with their boyfriends. Still, it was fun while it lasted.

“Where is it?” I ask, twirling my fork around in my food.

“Over by the lake on the west side of town. It’s a two bedroom, but we really don’t need more than that.”

Two bedrooms? We had four bedrooms before the tornado took them all away. “Cool,” I say. I know my parents are trying hard to get us back on our feet. But I also know that Kennedy will have a field day if she discovers that we’re living on the west side of town.

Only four more weeks of school left. We can handle this.

Ethan wraps his arms around me once we’re back in the rec room after dinner. “I’m going to miss you when you move out,” he whispers into my ear.

The close proximity makes my whole body warm. I slide my hands on top of his and let my head fall back against his chest. I’ll miss you, too.”

He takes his laptop off a nearby table and opens it, balancing it on his knee while he sits on the armrest of the couch. “Am I the only one who thinks it’s kind of weird how our parents handled finding out that we’re together?”

“No, that was definitely weird.” I sit on the couch and pull my knees up to my chest. “It’s a little weird that they know. Like, are they going come barging in here constantly to make sure we’re not hooking up?”

Ethan shrugs. “So tell me more about this childhood wedding planning you did.”

I punch him in the arm and roll my eyes. “Not happening.”

He chuckles, his face lighting up from the glow of the computer. “You sold thirty-five more shirts today, babe.”

I sigh and sink into the couch. “So, you know how I said we should just let it go with the Kennedy thing?”

Ethan plops down onto the couch next to me and I put my feet in his lap. He puts his laptop on top of my feet. “Let me guess . . . you don’t want to let it go?”

“What if we make it easier for people to get the shirts? Maybe tell everyone to wear them on the same day, just to piss her off.”

“How would we make it easier?” he asks.

“Let’s set the price as low as it goes. Zero profit.”

He lifts an eyebrow. “You sure?”

I nod. “Then we’ll blast the info all over the internet and ask everyone to buy one.”

“I have a better idea,” Ethan says, narrowing his eyebrows at the computer screen. “They have an option to make the profits go to charity. Let’s keep it the same price but have the funds be donated to . . .”

He scrolls through a list of charities and I lean forward, looking over his shoulder. “Dogs!” I point at the screen, choosing a charity that supports homeless animals.

Once it’s all set up, the webstore page for the shirt has big charity logos all over it, making it clear that 100% of the profit goes to support shelter animals.

It’s cathartic, being a bitch to the supreme bitch, and as I make the social media post on both Ethan’s and all of my accounts, I don’t feel the least bit guilty at all.

Is your ex-girlfriend a total dog? Buy this shirt and support more dogs like her. But the good news is that, unlike your ex-girlfriend, these dogs are actually capable of being loved!