Beatty & The Beast

EIGHT: Where the Beauty Begins the Fairy Tale

The next day, January 11

The day was unseasonably warm, or at least it decided to open that way. As Andie stood outside the mansion waiting for Keefe so they could walk to school, she was forced to take off her scarf. She wrapped it around the neck of the nearest nude statue, figuring she'd put it away after school.

She was in a rather good mood. The day before may have started off awkwardly, but it definitely didn't end that way.

Normally she wasn't so open, especially about her mom, and she hadn't even meant to talk about her. Then all of a sudden she found herself vomiting up every detail to this boy she barely knew. She had to wonder what had come over her.

But he was different, he had a way about him that made it easy to open up. Even if he didn't ask for information, somehow a person was just possessed to tell him everything.

Or at least she was.

Tugging on her hood and covering her scars with her hair for maybe the umpteenth time, she changed the song on her phone and shifted her weight impatiently. She had been waiting for a while. He should've been there by now.

Maybe he ditched her. It would be a good joke, leave the bitchy new girl waiting on her sidewalk like a dope. Make her think that they were friends and then pull the rug out from under her. Then he could run off and laugh about her with all of his friends.

Except that, as far as she could tell, he didn't have any friends.

Telling herself to relax – the last thing she needed was to put herself in an irrational bad mood – she figured he must've got caught up in something and perhaps was just a few minutes late. She wouldn't be surprised if he was the type to fix breakfast for his apparently dependent father and useless brothers, only to do their dishes afterwards. Maybe his family held him up.

At that moment, the classmates Keefe usually walked to school with came up Beaumont Hill and into her view. She was confused and disappointed to see that Keefe was not with them.

As the other three approached, the girl – Enid was her name? Andie wasn't sure, though she had a class with her – took one look at her and scowled. Evidently, she had not forgotten their little spat from the other day.

Red-faced and beady-eyed, the roly-poly thing stomped her way up to Andie, leaving the boys in her dust and stopping about four feet away to glare at Andie. "What? Disappointed your little slave isn't with us? Disappointed that you can't order him around like some psycho tyrant?"

Andie put her phone and earbud into her hoodie pocket. "I'm not sure who you're referring to," she said tonelessly.

If it was possible, Enid's face grew redder. "You know exactly who I'm talking about!"

"No, I'm afraid I don't." Andie sent her a smile. "I don't have a slave. You must be mistaken."

"Are you aware that you're the worst?" Enid spat. It appeared, Andie mused, that this one had a very short fuse. Andie loved short fuses ... they were so much fun to play with.

"Come on Enid, let's go. She's not worth it," the taller, better-looking boy – Chris was it? – said, stepping forward and putting a tentative hand on Enid's shoulder.

"Yeah, she's not worth it," the little sheep of Chris – Lewis, she knew – echoed.

Amused, Andie smiled. "So where is Beatty?"

Enid looked about ready to explode. "None of your business!"

"You don't know, do you?" Andie said. "Hmm, interesting."