Madison

Momma didn't come home at all that night. She's on a roll, really. Ashlyn's not stupid. She's aware that something is up, but Momma has always managed to keep herself together around her, and as long as she does, I can deal with the rest.

We settle into our routine. She does her homework while I do laundry. I take a shower, then she follows with her own.

The morning comes before I'm really ready.

I stare at my closet for minutes waiting for something new to show up to wear.

It's getting embarrassing at this point. Ashlyn has my hand-me-downs, things I couldn't wear on a bet these days, but there's no one around to hand anything down to me.

Momma is half of my size, a wisp of a thing, and Ashlyn takes after her. She'd swim in my clothes if she didn't have friends like Jessie to supplement. To be honest, I don't know how she gets away with getting so much from her friends. She plays it off like the chameleon that I could never be.

I call into her room over the music she has softly playing. It's been on all night. I normally would have shut it off hours ago, after she was good and sleep, but when I'm upset, I sleep deep. Something in me praying that when I wake up, the world will be different if I sleep long and hard enough.

"Up and atom, Ashlyn," I say, pushing clothes out of the way with my feet as I work a path to her bed.

"Five more minutes."

"Zero."

"Ten," she says, pulling the sheets over her head.

"Two, and I'm counting," I say, tossing some clothes on her that I gather from the floor next to her bed.

We still take the bus even though I'm more than old enough to have my license by now.

We don't have the money for a car, not right now, and every time I turn around, I see another reason to get back to working. I need to do something. It's like an itching in my skin these days, especially after Beau last night.

Twenty minutes later, we're at the edge of the trailer park at the bus stop. There's some other kids there too, years younger than my eighteen, so they have every right to be there and actually not be embarrassed.

I pull the sleeves on my long sleeve shirt, yanking the fabric over my knuckles. I ruin clothes, pulling, shaping, and wearing them out. It might be a nervous tick or something, or maybe I want them good and run through so I can give myself reason to replace them.

Ashlyn stands nearby, not choosing to be around the other kids her age. She's three years younger than me, but there's a world between her and the other people around here her age. She's got this inner confidence that I would have killed for when I was fifteen.

I hear the car before I see it. A Trans Am that would have been cherry red if the paint was new pulls up to us. Mike is driving. He kicks up some dust as he comes to a stop near where we're standing.

"My favorite sisters." I look at him and see him smiling. He's been all but a brother to us since he moved here a couple of years back. He was gangly when he first got here, all elbows and awkwardness, but now he's coming into his own in the way his shoulders are filling out his shirts.

"Michael," I say, smiling despite myself but sounding stern all the same.

"We're beyond that, sweetheart. I should have a nickname by now."

"Maddie doesn't like to cuss," Ashlyn says, cheeky as ever.

"You wound me, little girl. Y'all want a ride to school?"

"Will it make it there?" I ask.

"I didn't spend the past few nights making her purr like a kitten for nothing, did I?"

"We're good," I say, not wanting to give him the wrong idea. All I can think about is missing finding out about my English exam because Michael Conry's car decided to hate me.

"Please, Maddie? Mrs. Sawyer is always late, and I'm completely over being here."

"Yeah, Maddie, please?" He draws out the last word, getting Ashlyn's voice down to a tee.

I know I've lost already.

"Let's go."

We make it to school, but we're almost late. Mike takes the scenic route because he can and even gets us breakfast on the way.

Inside, I'm waiting for someone to call me out on my clothing choice, but no one does. Maybe they're used to me wearing whatever these days. Nothing fits. Fitting well has been secondary to functioning to cover all my appropriate parts.

I think back to Beau's words yesterday. Apparently I'm not doing that good of a job. Something inside of my stomach twists, hard, remembering his body against mine.

Ashlyn has already gotten out of the back seat on Mike's side, and I realize I'm still sitting in the car.

I get out and grab my bag, a messenger I love. It's an item I spoiled myself with months ago because I wanted to be selfish for a minute and think of just me before the bills, the food, the everything else. It's the nicest thing I own, even if I did just get it from the discount bin at the mall.

"You good?" Ashlyn asks. She's too perceptive.

"Totally. I'm good. Really." I tell myself to stop talking, but the words just kept coming out.

She shoots me a weird look but gives me a hug before heading off with her friends.

Most of her friends are rich, obnoxiously so. They accepted Ashlyn because they couldn't not. She looks like she's two steps from modeling. I'm glad she has them.

"Thanks for the ride," I say. Mike is still getting his stuff from the car.

He walks around to join me on the other side and walk in.

"Actually, I was wanting to ask you--"

"Watch where you're going, freak." We look up to see we're right in line with the boys. That's what people call them. The boys. Like they're the only ones around.

Inwardly, I groan. Seeing them is the last thing I need right now.

There's four of them, Marcus, the definition of bad boy and general dickhead to anyone who he doesn't deem as being worthy, Kyle, a guy too good looking for his own good, Jason, the good one, All-American, and Asher Brent, the athletic star who makes the girls go crazy. He seems impossibly strong. Blonde hair on the longer side and a body that years of sports and working out earns. Every girl in the school has wanted to be with him, and from what I hear, they have.

But not me. He's practically made of money and no one that good looking would go after me.

"We're not causing trouble," says Mike, some of the wind coming out of his sails by the sound of his voice.

"Running into me doesn't sound like trouble to you? I think it sounds fucking dangerous."

"Lay off him, man." I look to see Asher staring at me. It's disconcerting. He's not leering, thank goodness, but the look on his face makes me feel raw all the same.

"Let's go, Maddie," says Mike, holding my elbow to steer us away from them.

My eyes haven't left Asher because his eyes haven't left me either.

But I break the spell as we turn to walk away. I feel shaken, but it's hard for me to nail down why. I let out the breath I've been holding. Seeing Asher actually look at me makes me feel something warm, low in my stomach, like there are butterflies in there, but they're on fire.

"Maddie." I hear Asher's voice behind me and feel his breath on the back of my neck.

I close my eyes. In fantasies I don't let myself have too often, self-preservation and all of that, we start like this. I hear the low growl of his voice, I feel his hands run up my arms to turn me around...

"Maddie?" Except for in my fantasies, I do end up turning around instead of just stopping in my tracks like a weirdo.

I turn to face him. Asher is close. Too close. He's looking down at my five, five frame, but he doesn't look me over.

I catch his eyes look at my lips though, I know it. I think.

"Yes?"

"You have Mrs. Carol for English right? Third period?"

"How did you--"

"I've seen you in the halls." He looks away, his throat a little flushed like I've caught him making a confession. "You're smart right?"

"Excuse me?"

"I mean--What I'm trying to ask--"

"No shit. Ashy's got a crush on the trailer princess," I hear Kyle's words and immediately feel my face heat. Trailer princess? Is he kidding me?

"Shut the fuck up, Kyle." Asher's voice booms across the courtyard we're in. I wouldn't want to cross that voice.

He turns back to me. "Pardon the cussing." He scratches his neck.

"I'm going to be late, so I better go," I say, turning and not waiting for this to continue. It's weird enough that Asher is even talking to me at all. Smart? Okay. Trailer princess? Seriously?

Mike is waiting for me just a few steps ahead. He's not looking at me though. I see him looking back at them over his shoulder. His eyes are narrowed like he doesn't seem to like what he's seeing.

I don't want to turn around to see if Asher is still standing there, which would be terrifying and exhilarating at the same time, and I definitely don't want to turn around to see him not standing there, choosing to go back to his friends. Either way, I don't want to look.

I hear them talking though, I can't help that. There's laughter and I feel flushed all over. They're laughing at me now? They have too much power and the suckiest part is that they know it.

"What was that?" Mike asks as we walk our way to first period.

"Beats me."