Lacey's back with a new story :) This one's supposed to be a bit more intense and action-filled than "Rebellious." I hope you enjoy it, and review! -Lacey
I'm complex. I believe that your name describes you. My name is different. I'm not just another Megan, Katie, or Emily strolling along the street. I'm also not an Evangeline, McKenna, or Gwendolyn.
My name isn't average and simple. My name isn't feminine and frilly. Some people take it as a boy's name, which most fifteen year old girls would absolutely loathe. But I love it, because it's got unique written all over it.
I'm Ashton Shay, and I'm perfect.
Alright, I sound a little over-confident right now, but look at the situation through my eyes. Shouldn't you love being yourself? There shouldn't be anyone on Earth who loves you more than you love yourself. I believe in myself, unlike most insecure teenagers. Hooray for Carsyn, right?
Most people are intimidated by the certainty I hold within myself. They back away from me, thinking, "Nope, shouldn't mess with Ashton. Who knows what's going on in her mind?"
Luckily, I found someone worthy of my trust and loyalty. Sierra Cruise is my best friend, and she's not threatened by me. She's actually thrilled to have me, because I totally help her reputation, and her ego.
I don't understand why I would have to help Sierra, though. She's gorgeous, strutting around school with her golden locks and crystal blue eyes. Unfortunately, she doesn't see herself clearly. She looks for flaws in everyone, which includes herself.
"Sierra, he's perfect for you. I don't see why you would ever dump him," I told my friend about her boyfriend Ritchie Connell. At the time, we were sprawled out on my basement floor, cracking open our fortune cookies and scooping spoonfuls of rice into our mouths.
Sierra read her fortune out loud. "'Long walks help relieve stress.' What?! That is the worst fortune ever!"
I rolled my eyes and broke my own fortune cookie. My trembling fingers pulled the white slip of paper out of the cookie, and I read it out loud in a clear voice. "'The one who admires you greatly is hidden before your eyes.'"
I pondered about my fortune for a bit in the silence, feeling Sierra's eyes on me. I wondered what the writer of this quote meant. Did they mean that people tend to look too hard for the one they love? So hard that their desperate eyes zoom past the person who truly cares?
I heard Sierra clear her throat. I looked up at her.
"About Ritchie? He's nice, but he expects too much of me," Sierra explained, and I exhaled deeply.
"I don't know. All I'm saying, is maybe Ritchie is the one, and if you let him go now, you'll never know for sure," I told her.
She laughed. "You obsess over fortune cookies."
"That's part of who I am," I replied with a wink.
I'm egocentric, stubborn, temperamental, and I can't walk anywhere without stumbling or falling flat on my face. I'm confident, superstitious, sarcastic, and a compulsive liar. I don't look like I just stepped off the cover of Vogue, and I have no desire in looking like that. My shoulder-length charcoal black hair and sensitive eyes tell a lot about me. I don't wear make-up; I believe in natural beauty.
I know that the butterfly tattoo on my right ankle is the biggest distinction about me. I don't remember when I got the tattoo, or why it's there. The tattoo has something special about the appearance. It seems to glow, and it is outlined with such caution that the human hand could never have created it. The wings of the butterfly hold a design that – call me crazy, seems to mean something. The number 436 is printed neatly right under it. I stare at my tattoo for hours, trying to figure out why it's so important. I never get any luck, of course.
Unfortunately, my siblings and I moved in with our grandparents. This is a bad thing why? Because once the school year starts, I'll be cramped in freaking Minnesota with kids who'll probably think I'm a freak. The worst part is that Sierra Cruise will be back in Florida, soaking up the sun with her boyfriend and new best friend Tori.
My grandparents are wonderful. Grandpa is the average lazy retired man, sitting on his recliner all day reading the newspaper. Grandma cleans the house, not complaining once. It must be hard for her, suddenly having four kids in the house to deal with. The house never looks clean anymore. Toys are sprawled out everywhere, and the kids never try and help. I do the best I can to make things easier for Grandma, but I'm just a teenager. I can't have this much responsibility heaped onto my shoulders.
Skye, my eleven year old sister, follows me around everywhere. Sierra and I would plan to go to the mall, and Skye would insist that this time, she's old enough to tag along. The situation ends up with her winning, due to her to-die-for puppy dog eyes that she inherited from me. Our eyes are literally gorgeous. The base color is a brown, and they have specks of gold and grey swirling around the pupil.
My poor brother Ryan and my other sister Talia were not given the gift of my father's eyes. They were given plain blue eyes from my mother.
Ryan is a pain. He's got these weird little phases. He used to be the sweetest kid ever, obsessing over Spider Man and Frankenstein. My cousin Garrett clearly changed that.
Garrett is sixteen, a year older than me, and he's a total bad boy. He's got tattoos covering the muscle on both of his arms and his back, and he even has one on his chest. He believes in violence and screamo music, and he tends to stop in at everyone's houses, thinking he's welcome. He's wrong. Garrett is a selfish, sexist, perverted pig, and I want nothing to do with him. But over this past summer, he spent a month with me and my family.
Garrett taught Ryan how to fight. These days, Ryan is aggressive, mean, violent…and I blame Garrett one hundred percent. I miss my Spidey-loving eight year old brother.
Talia, on the other hand, is adorable. She's the sweetest little sister I could ask for. She's six, and her full name is Natalia. I gave her the nickname Talia, and she can't get enough of it.
I lay on my bed, my face pressed into my pillow. My music was playing, but not blasting. It wasn't loud enough to drown out the soft knock on my door.
I groaned and pushed myself off my bed, opening the door, expecting Skye.
Grandma Mary is a small, fragile woman of sixty seven years. She has brown hair, with only a bit of grey. Her eyes resemble mine, and she is beautiful. She's also the coolest grandma ever.
"Ashton?" She asked in a gentle tone, standing in the doorway.
I smiled politely, not knowing what else to do when a look of concern was plastered on her face.
Grandma took a step into my room. She was holding a small cloth, probably taking a break from cleaning to check in on me.
"Why don't you head out tonight?" Grandma asked nervously, as if I would lash out at her for asking me to go make friends. I didn't.
"Grandma, I'm studying tonight," I lied. All I really wanted to do was relax all summer and make friends later when the school year started.
Grandma frowned. "Well, Grandpa and I are taking the kids to a drive-in movie. That new one, about the prehistoric cartoon animals."
"Why don't I join? I could take my books, and I'll help watch the kids," I suggested, and Grandma's face glowed.
"I would love that, Ashton. Thank you," Grandma said with a wide grin. I pulled her into my arms, squeezing her gently. "Of course, Skye was hoping you would come as well."
"Of course," I replied with a quick smile.
"We leave in an hour, so get dressed sleepy-head," Grandma teased, eyeing my pajama pants and white cami-sole. It was my lazy day, Sunday.
I dressed in blue skinny jeans and a neon green camisole with a white sweatshirt that has a design with overlapping black stars. The drive-in would get late, and when it gets late in Minnesota, its freezing. I know this from past experiences.
My black hair fell in layers to my shoulders, and I straightened my bangs so that they fell over my eyebrows. I didn't put any makeup on, obviously, and I slipped my feet into black converse. My style was sort of skater, punk-ish. I've never been one to dress in a jean skirt and pink blouse with flip flops, curling my hair and loading myself with makeup. I don't see the point in looking good for other people when I think I look good in the first place.
I looked at my reflection in the full-length mirror, and then crouched down, staring at my ankle. It was covered with the familiar jean material. I rolled the leg of my skinny jeans once, revealing the swirling design embedded in my skin. I closed my eyes, letting my fingers trace it. I had memorized each mark.
"Ouch! Skye, I'm studying, could you please go play with Ryan or Talia?" I asked as politely as possible when Skye grabbed my hand, pulling my finger back and demanding me to say 'mercy'.
Skye pouted and glared at me. "No."
I let out an exasperated sigh, and slammed my Trig textbook shut, standing up. It was almost ten o'clock, and Skye still had enough energy to drag me around the lot where the drive-in was taking place. She was definitely the Energizer Bunny in disguise.
Talia sat in the car, her eyes drooping as she watched the movie. Ryan was awake and completely focused Ice Age 3: Dawn of the Dinosaurs. Grandma and Grandpa were in the front of the car, talking in hushed tones.
"We're going to the bathroom," I told Grandma, and she smiled at me, nodding her head. She turned back to Grandpa with a concerned expression on her face.
Skye took my hand and pulled me away from Grandma's blue minivan. It was dark, and we walked towards the concessions and restrooms.
"Do you have to go to the bathroom?" I asked Skye curiously, and she shook her head with a smile on her face.
I looked up at the screen, watching as Sid the sloth argued with the big dinosaur about what the baby dino's were going to eat. I felt like a child, actually being interested in a movie like this. Some of the comments the animals made were inappropriate, though.
Finally, Skye and I reached the building, and Skye bit her lip.
"What do you want now? Are you hungry? Because I'm broke," I told her.
"I'm not hungry. I changed my mind. I have to go to the bathroom," Skye said, looking up at me. I pointed towards the restroom, and she skipped towards it, leaving me alone.
I took time to look around, and the place looked kind of like a small diner. The tables set up were small. They were made for only two or three, but there were a couple booths along the wall.
The floors were tiled in white, and the walls were painted light blue. A waitress zoomed by me on roller-skates, and I scowled and followed her with my eyes.
She had short red hair, glasses, and a freckled face. She carried a tray of drinks and rolled towards one of the booths where three teenagers around my age sat.
The waitress was average. The kids at the table were not.
There were two boys and one girl. The blond boy was pale, with hazel eyes and a long-sleeved black shirt. The contrast between the shirt and his skin was immense. His hair was shaggy and he had dirt on his face. He had a scar cutting through his left cheek. The boy with tussled chocolate brown hair and silver-blue eyes was wearing a white wife beater, revealing his tan arms which happened to be appealingly muscled. The girl had light brown hair with a streak of bright blue in the front. She wore black jeans and a plain white t-shirt.
The scariest thing of all was the mark on the brunette boy's upper arm. It was far too similar to mine – it wasn't a butterfly, but a black scorpion was gleaming on his arm. I saw blurred symbols underneath the scorpion, and I knew it had to be numbers of some sort.
Now the boy stared into my eyes. He looked almost amused, and my face flushed. Had he seen me staring? He has an incredibly God-like appearance, and I'm sure he was showing it off.
The boy's eyes were still on me, which made the other two turn to look. The girl's mouth widened and the blond boy grinned.
Skye was humming loudly when she exited the bathroom. She grabbed my hand, pulling it impatiently. "Let's go! What're you looking at?"
I blinked my eyes and followed Skye out of the diner-like building. The outside was not attractive. Posters covered the outer walls, and Skye sat on the ground, pulling her shoes off and shaking rocks out of them. Where did the rocks come from? I have no idea.
As she carefully picked the rocks out of her shoes, I examined the posters. They were ads for dogs, horses, missing cats.
I yawned, growing tired of the posters. They were boring with nothing unique about them at all. Then my eyes scanned over a poster that sparked interest.
AGE: AROUND 15
BLACK HAIR, BROWN EYES
BUTTERFLY TATTOO ON ANKLE
My eyes widened at the realization that these people were describing me. What other fifteen year old has a butterfly tattoo on their ankle, topped off with black hair and brown eyes?
I wasn't missing, though…was I?
This girl couldn't be me.
Just in case, though, I fished a pen out of my purse, writing the address on the poster onto my hand. How could this be happening?
I would stop by the house, ask them if I was who they were looking for, then leave. If I'm who they want, I'll explain that it's a misunderstanding.
Someone cleared their throat.
"Just a second, Skye," I said, peering at the poster again.
A low laugh startled me. That was definitely not Skye. I whirled around, facing the boy that was staring at me in the diner. I felt my cheeks heat up, and stumbled backwards a bit, shocked at how close he had come.
"I'm not Skye," his charming voice said the obvious, and I tried to pull myself together.
"Yeah, I can see that," I replied, narrowing my eyes and crossing my arms over my chest. Don't give in to him, Ashton. He'll just play with your heart.
"I'm Heath," he told me, and I raised my eyebrows as if saying, "So?" He chuckled again, turning towards the poster about me, or someone freakishly like me. "This girl sounds a lot like you. Of course, you may or may not have the tattoo."
I rolled my eyes. That wasn't his business. I refused to speak to him.
"Are you going to tell me your name?" Heath asked me, and I saw that his two friends had just walked out of the diner.
"No," I snapped stubbornly, and Heath smirked.
His friends stepped towards us, and I heard the girl's musical laugh. "This is Jaeger and Morgan."
"Hi!" Morgan said enthusiastically. "Heath, aren't you going to tell us her name?"
Heath grinned cheekily. "Can't," he said. "She's a stubborn one and won't tell me. Why do you think that is?"
Jaeger had his mouth full of French fries, but still attempted to answer Heath's question. "Because she's not in the mood to be harassed by creeps with names of candy bars?"
I had to laugh at that. I liked Jaeger more and more by the second, and Heath stayed at the "Don't talk to me" level.
"A-ha, I made her laugh! You may clap," Jaeger said. When no one clapped, he glared at Morgan, who clapped with fake interest. "Thank you."
"Listen, like J-something said, I'm not in the mood. So I'll just find my sister and leave, okay?" I said, scanning the area for Skye. When I didn't spot her anywhere, I averted my narrowed eyes at Heath. "Where the hell is she?"
Heath put his hands up defensively. "I didn't touch your sister. But we'll help you look for her. We wouldn't want her to go missing like you did."
I deepened my glare, refusing to take my eyes off of that bastard. "I'm not missing, and this isn't your business. I don't need your help finding my sister."
"You're in denial, sweetheart. If you aren't the girl described on that poster right there, why don't you show me your ankles? I mean, if you're not the girl, I'll leave you alone. But until I'm sure you aren't her, there's no way you aren't going to see me sometime in the distant - or near - future." Heath raised his eyebrows at me, looking down at my feet.
My temper flared, and I brought my arm back and snapped it forward, my fist smashing into Heath's face. I heard the gross crack from where I stood, and Heath groaned in pain, his hands moving up instinctively to cover his nose. Jaeger and Morgan helped stabilize his balance, and I beamed.
"Stay away from me," I said with a threatening tone dripping from my once-angel-like voice.