My appearance was next. I’d styled my hair to match Celine’s, had it cut a similar length, found the same lip gloss at the pharmacy and used my pocket money to buy it, but still, despite Brad passing a comment about how Celine and I could almost be sisters—yeah, only if I was the ugly one—Ash didn’t notice. Even when I stole one of the love letters she’d written Ash, and practiced until my writing looked exactly like hers, he still couldn’t see what was in front of him.
I needed him to understand I could be so much more than he thought, if only he’d let me. If only he’d give us a chance. I knew him, understood him. What he liked, what he hated, his favorite food, music and movies. There was nobody on this earth who could make him as happy as I could, but still, he only had eyes for Celine, and every time I saw them together, it stoked the colossal fire of envy burning inside me.
When Brad took Mom out for dinner and a movie one night, hoping it would cheer her up because she hadn’t been well again, Ash promised he’d spend the evening with me. Not twenty minutes after our parents had left, Celine called, and Ash suggested she stop by.
“Why is she coming?” I said when he hung up, hugging my knees as I sat on the sofa, pulling a cushion against my chest. “Why does she always have to intrude?”
“It’s not intruding if I invite her,” Ash said, with a hint of annoyance, and him thinking badly of me made my stomach turn. “You know she’s having a hard time.”
“I’m having a hard time,” I said, swiping at my eyes with the back of my hand.
He came over and plopped himself on the coffee table in front of me. “Hey,” he said gently. “What’s going on, Bee? What’s happened?”
“It doesn’t matter. You won’t care.” I jumped up, sending the cushion flying. I brushed past him, ran to the stairs and up to my room, where I slammed and locked the door, making the thin walls shake. It wasn’t long before I heard his footfalls, followed by a soft knock.
“Bee? What’s going on? Talk to me.”
As soon as I opened the door, he put his arms around me. “What’s wrong?”
I didn’t want to tell him everything, couldn’t face verbalizing my jealousy, but he asked me again, his voice gentle and calm. I wanted to keep him here, with me, in my room. I wanted us to spend the whole evening together. I wanted him to finally see me, look after me, love me.
“They call me names at school,” I whispered, fighting back more tears, relieved to finally let go of the secret that involved him. Maybe he wouldn’t be disgusted with me, but with them, and we could fight this together. “It’s been going on for weeks.”
“What kind of names?” Ash said. “Who’s bullying you?”
“I don’t know who started it,” I lied, not wanting him to know I’d been the one who’d stolen Sydney’s precious jacket and ripped it to shreds, which had done nothing to stop the taunting. “Someone found my notebook. It got passed around and now they call me a...they call me a...a brotherfucker.”
It was a mistake telling him because he looked as if I’d slapped him across the face, and I wanted to take the word back, erase it from his memory, but it was too late.
“Why would they call you that?” he said.
“Because I wrote ‘Maya and Ash forever’ over an entire page.” I swallowed. “Or two.”
“Maya and Ash...?” he said, shaking his head. “Bee, why would—”
“Because I love you.”
“I love you, too, but—”
I wrapped my arms around him, silencing his next words with my lips. It was a kiss I’d dreamed of for months and months—it was what I needed more than anything in the entire world, the one thing that held the power to make everything okay. Every gibe, every taunt, every horrible note, and all my jealousy faded away to nothing. Ash’s mouth tasted of breath mints, but when he tried to loosen my grip on him I held on, not ready to let the moment end. But then I heard a creak on the landing, and a high-pitched, disbelieving voice rang out.
“What the... Ash?”
We spun around, both of us startled by Celine, who now stood in my bedroom doorway, the goddamn sparkling butterfly necklace Ash had given her hanging between her perfect breasts. She stared at us, eyes wide, mouth open, before turning and thundering down the hallway.
“Celine,” Ash yelled, shoving me to one side. “Wait. It’s not what you think.”
I wanted to ask him what he was talking about. Our kiss had to have meant as much to him as it had to me. He loved me. He’d said so before I kissed him. It was why I’d kissed him. I followed him out onto the landing. He’d stopped Celine at the top of the stairs and stood a few feet away from her, holding up his hands, backing away.
“Don’t touch me,” she shouted, tears streaming down her face. “How could you?”
“It’s not what you think,” he said. “I’d never do that to you. Not with her, not with anyone. She’s just a kid, she’s my stepsister. I love you, Celine, please. Maya was confused.”
I opened my mouth to shout at him, tell him he was wrong, that I wasn’t a child, that I loved him, but no words came out.
Celine looked past Ash, her face full of loathing.
