Fair Folk Fell Read online

  It wasn’t even October, and I already had three, all courtesy of Ms. Clemmings.

  This year was definitely going great.

  Walking with my head down, trying to distract myself by thinking about male figure skaters, I almost knocked into Jake Wildern when I reached the classroom door. I’d forgotten he’d been thrown into purgatory with me.

  He sort of grunted in greeting, and I grunted back, like a pair of proper apes.

  Here’s the thing about Jake Wildern. We may be nemeses, but we used to be friends. Loooong ago, way back in Kindergarten and all the way through Fourth Grade we were inseparable. We’d climb trees, playgrounds, even buildings. We’d hang out every summer running through the subdivision like a pair of feral cats, and we’d shared everything, from our first kisses to our Yu-Gi-Oh! card collections.

  Everything comes to an end, and I guess the abrupt ending of my friendship with Jake Wildern was my first experience in that particular life lesson.

  “Don’t dawdled in the doorway, darling,” he mocked, pushing past me into the classroom.

  “Heh,” was my cunning – as always—retort.

  The embarrassing thing wasn’t that I used to be friends with Jake Wildern. Everyone has shameful pasts. The embarrassing thing is that I used to be convinced he was a fairy prince.

  He looked like a fairy prince—all golden blond hair and fey green eyes—but sometimes I thought he did magic. Or, it seemed like he did magic. Idk, I was a kid and extra impressionable, and he was my best friend and he fascinated me.

  I grew out of it, thank goodness.

  And let me tell you, Jake The-Worst Wildern was no fairy prince.

  “You looked like a cow that’d been kicked in the tits when Clemmings’ gave you detention,” Jake said cheerily.

  “Cows have udders, not tits.” I stepped into the otherwise empty classroom and sighed. The room was warm and seemed to be filled with a haze. I had no doubt I’d be asleep in fifteen minutes.

  “You’re late,” Ms. Clemmings accused, striding in after me. “Sit down, both of you, and don’t talk back, or I’ll put you both in detention for the rest of the week.”

  Obedient and obliging, we sat. Jake took the seat near the wall and I took the one farthest away from him near the door.

  Clemmings lifted her lip like a dog about to bite off a hand. “Closer,” she snarled.

  Obliging and obedient, we moved to adjacent desks.

  Ms. Clemmings threw down a box of unsorted reading questions between us. “Sort and staple. Once you’re done with this box, I have envelopes for you to stuff. And no complaining, Catherine Wadell.”

  I closed my mouth, hurt at the accusation, and Jake shot me a smirk.

  By the time we got to stuffing envelopes (and licking them shut, per the Devil Incarnates’ instruction), Ms. Clemmings deemed us appropriately subdued, and stalked off to the teacher’s lounge.

  We halfheartedly licked envelopes, although I was pretty sure Jake was only pretending to lick his.

  “So,” Jake said in his most conversational and friendly tone, “what happened between us, Wadell?”

  I scoffed. “You’re making it sound like we were an item.” I angrily licked an envelope and got a paper cut on my tongue for my efforts.

  “We haven’t really talked since what… Fifth Grade?” he rolled his pretty green eyes. “If I remember correctly, we were inseparable.”

  I paused. Normally, I don’t ever stop to think before I say the first thing that comes into my head. This was tricky territory, though. Sure, we’d been friends, but high school had a hierarchy, and heart-to-hearts between jocks and nobodies was frowned upon. “Well,” I eventually said, “it’s because you decided to keep on being friends with the jerk who was bullying Becca.”

  “Becca Beecham? That quiet chick who’s always following you around?”

  I resented the implication that Becca always followed me around, but grunted, “yep.”

  “Huh.”

  Annoyed, I stuffed the envelopes with renewed relish, leaving the licking to Jake. “Why were you even friends with that guy?!” I blurted, using too much force and crumpling the folded paper stuffed halfway into an envelope. I couldn’t even remember his name—he’d transferred to a different school in Sixth Grade—but I’d refused to talk to Jake ever after.

  Jake considered the question with far more seriousness than I’d expected. “It’s not that I would’ve rather hung out with Ashton than you, Cat. He never played Deep Jungle Exploration and he couldn’t name a single ninja turtle for the life of him, but he…” he trailed off and shrugged. The expression on his face could only be called wistful.

  “Why, then?” I tried to keep the hurt out of my voice. This was just a bridge underwater. Wait, water under the bridge. Old news.

  His somewhat wistful expression had been replaced by something harder and unhappier. I wasn’t sure if there was a name for it, but it made me want to give him a hug, and that was an unnatural and disgusting desire. I looked away. “You remember how he transferred to another school? It was a school my parents wanted me to get into, and his parents are… on the school board, I guess. They had influence with Admissions. They said that by being friends with him, I’d have a good chance of getting into Silveridge.” He snorted. “Fat lot of good that did me.”

  I sat back, like, completely forgetting about the envelopes. “What the crap kind of thing is that to do to your kid?!”

  Jake snorted again but didn't answer my question.

  I bit back ruder words and muttered, “your little sob story still doesn’t change anything, Wildern. You were a butthole.” Meditatively I added, “still are a butthole, really.”

  It was in this meditative mood that Ms. Clemmings found me when she returned.

  After insinuating that we hadn’t done half the work expected of us, she signed off on our red slips and released us to the Great Wild.

  The fastest way out of the school from the third-floor Lit hallway is taking the West stairs down to the main atrium, but I honestly contemplated taking the long way out just to avoid having to walk with Jake. He caught my eye before I could swivel in the opposite direction, and gave me his typical, smug bastard look.

  Ugh, fine.

  I trudged after him, keeping a good ten feet back so he didn’t get any weird ideas.

  Because of this, I could see down into the atrium when he turned onto the stairs, as I was still at the balcony.

  Waiting—like, clearly, obviously waiting—at the bottom of the staircase was none other than Anna Flores, my very own hateful Chem partner. She noticed Jake and grinned cheerily, lifting one hand in greeting. Half a second later she noticed me and her expression immediately shuttered. She dropped her hand like it’d been holding a buttcake.

  …Wait a hot second.

  What the bananas?!

  As far as I knew, Popular Football Star Jake Wildern had nothing to do with derpy dweeb Anna Flores.

  I sprinted down the steps and Anna turned redder with each step I vaulted. “I-I was here for Chess Club,” she stuttered, trying to scuttle away.

  “More like…like Loser Club,” Jake retorted, in what was probably the FAKEST insult I’d ever heard. He shoved past Anna as if she hadn’t been waiting. “See you round, Wadell.”

  “Yeah sure.” I glanced back at Anna. “You’re weird,” I advised her. I flicked a hand at Jake’s hastily retreating back. “Both of you. Real weird.”

  “Like you’re one to talk,” she muttered, still beet red. She didn’t say bye, instead hurrying away.

  I watched her escape. What had that been about? Were Jake and Anna secret friends? More than friends?! I thought of Finn, who’d be very interested to hear about Jake Wildern’s possibly illicit relationships with nerds, but shook off the idea. Jake wasn’t the sort of guy who’d ever date anyone who wasn’t as hot as he was.

  Maybe Anna was tutoring him?

  But that expression on her face—that’d been the same doofus expression I
wore when I saw Finn or Becca. Whatever they were, they knew each other well enough to make dumb happy faces at each other.

  Highly, highly suspicious indeed.

  Taking a Walk

  There is something hauntingly exquisite about school an hour before classes start.

  (I will not go into details about why I was even awake an hour before school started, just know it had everything to do with my stupid sister Meg and her inability to climb into our bedroom window quietly in the early hours of the morning)

  Only the weirdos who take early classes are there, and teachers pass in the hallways like half-remembered ghosts, footsteps echoing and voices all hushed.

  Well, except for mine. I have a hard time speaking quietly, it’s a personal problem, please be understanding.

  I’d squatted down near the gym, trying to bullshit my way through my History homework when my arch nemesis found me.

  “Morning, Wadell,” Jake said, stopping in front of me.

  Today he wore a papaya orange knit sweater and slim blue jeans with the faintest pale wash, and he’d tucked his sunglasses into his collar. He looked like he’d stepped out of a Ralph Lauren catalog and was ready to go do some wholesome polo watching.

  I stared up at him like a dog caught stealing pizza off a plate. “Good morning,” I replied cautiously. I didn’t like being cautious around Jake Wildern, screw that. “Did you eat your breakfast?” I asked to hide my own discomfort. “Breakfast is the most important meal of the day. Helps kickstart your metabolism.”

  “I’m fairly confident that’s just government propaganda,” he replied breezily with a smile.

  I used to love that smile. It was the smile of a shared joke, and I felt my lips inadvertently twitch up before I could slap them into stillness. How dare I smile at Jake Wildern!

  Finn saved me. I’d forgotten that he took a Zero Hour class. He paused, his sneakers squeaking against the clean floor, backpack slung over both shoulders, and stared from me to Jake.

  Finn is my soulmate. Like, my platonic soulmate. He always knows when I need a pesto sandwich, and I always know when he needs a Ninja Attack Hug of Love. He likes classic rock and swimming, and I like indie pop and sleeping, but we share one thing in common, which is our terrible taste in men.

  I’ve told him what a butt-hat Jake Wildern is, but in the four years I’ve known Finn Brooks, it hasn’t stopped him from crushing on the most popular boy at school.

  Jake is oblivious (obviously) to Finn’s feelings, probably because he and Finn haven’t spoken to each other since Jake came into JJ’s Sub Shop last May while Finn was working and ordered a #11 without onions. (Finn remembered his order. He also remembered how their fingers brushed when he passed Jake’s card back to him. He has not shut up about it for months which is how I too, now remember).

  “Oh, hey Wildern,” Finn said, casual as a criminal. He gave Jake a decent estimation of a bro nod.

  "Brooks.” Jake returned the bro nod. He raised his eyebrows, as if surprised Finn had talked to him, but Finn had already turned his attention to me.

  “You’re here unusually early, Cat.”

  “Blame Meg,” I muttered. Giving up on my homework, I stuffed it into my backpack and stood up. I looped my arm around Finn’s and forcibly turned him away from Jake. “Good morning, pretty boy. Did you pack me any cookies today?”

  “Will brownies suffice?” Finn asked, only glancing over his shoulder once as I dragged him down the hallway. In a quieter voice he hissed, “what the heck were you doing flirting with Jake Wildern?!”

  “Finnothy,” I sighed, patting his hand. “You haven’t seen me flirting. You have no idea what I’m capable of.” I rolled my eyes and lied out of my butt. I have four sisters and am an experienced and excellent fibber. “We were just talking about last night’s Euro Lit homework.”

  “He looks so good in that sweater,” Finn muttered, his eyes now resolutely on the floor in front of him. “How is that even possible?”

  I considered, tapping my free hand against my chin. “Maybe he’s a fairy prince?”

  I’d meant it jokingly, but Finn choked on his own spit and tripped, nearly sending both of us crashing to the floor. I managed to grab him and haul him out of danger before an untimely end. He stared at me with his big amber eyes, completely flabbergasted.

  Well! I was just as flabbergasted by that overreaction.

  “You’re—you’re just goofing,” he said, quite unsteadily. His mouth twitched and he forced it into something resembling a smile. “Ha—haha, yeah, funny. Big chuckles.”

  “First Anna and now you,” I muttered, shaking my head. Sure, Finn was stupid in love with Jake, but he’d never reacted quite so weirdly to something I said about The Jerk.

  Finn looped our arms back together. “Walk me to Psych,” he said, trying to play off his stumble. “Tell me about Meg.”

  Obvious change of subject much? I gave him a suspicious eyeball, but relented.

  Classes went as expected. In French I got my grade back from the oral exam and stared dismally down at the big honkin’ C. Becca wasn’t any help. She advised that I shouldn’t have said, “thank you for the delicious time, waiter,” which I totally don’t remember saying.

  Yesterday was Gaston and the Beast situation, but today was straight up Buffy, with me playing the role of a wicked vampire.

  In Euro Lit, Ms. Clemmings droned on and on about Romanticism and nearly gave me detention when I accidentally hit Becca in the head with a folded note. Luckily, I claimed that the kid behind me did it, and she totally believed me. (Sorry, Greta!!!)

  Choir: boring.

  LUNCH!

  Finn produced the promised brownies, and his mother, who is a beautiful and generous soul that would NEVER give her 17yo daughter a diary for her birthday, had packed him an extra sandwich, with the words “For Cat
  “Pesto?!” I screeched, tearing the bag open. “OMG I LOVE YOU, FINNBERLY!!!!!!!!” I dropped the precious sandwich and threw my arms around him, trying to kiss his cheek, which he laughingly tried to avoid (he lost. I kissed him. Ha!)

  Then Becca tried to eat one of those EXTRA Flaming Hot Pulled Directly From the Pits of An Active Volcano chips and nearly DIED which had all three of us gasping and laughing on the floor. Every time I made eye contact with Becca or Finn it’d set us off again, and I left lunch still grinning like an idiot.

  In Calc Jake didn’t try talking to me, in History I actually fell asleep for fifteen minutes and no one noticed, and in Chemistry I plopped myself down next to Anna.

  “So,” I said, “you bffs with Jake Wildern or what?”

  “What?!” she sputtered, turning red again. I don’t think I’d ever seen anyone blush as easily as her.

  “You were waiting for him yesterday, weren’t you?”

  “I don’t know where you got such a ridiculous idea,” she huffed, absolutely not looking at me. She spent way too much time taking her pencil out of her boring beige, utilitarian pencil case. “I wasn’t waiting for anyone.”