“Ashton, wake up, honey!”
I peeled my eyelids open, the familiar weight of morning dragging me from sleep. The bedroom walls were a saccharine pink, trimmed with baby blue—a shade that felt as alien as the new town. A sigh escaped my lips as I swung my legs over the side of the bed.
I padded to the closet, pulling out a pair of underwear, jeans, and a worn jersey. As I changed from pajamas to denim and cotton, I heard my mother’s footsteps approaching the door.
My parents’ divorce had been…spectacular. My father, caught in flagrante delicto with my principal.
The principal. A man built like a redwood, muscles straining against tailored shirts. I remembered the kitchen floor, the glint of light on polished wood, the raw, naked betrayal. My mother had found them both kneeling in the kitchen, my father’s hands clasped around the principal’s waist.
I hated the memory, the way it clung like a shadow. I loved my father, but forgiveness felt miles away. My mother had decided we needed a clean break, a new state, a new start. And today was my first day of senior year.
“Honey, you’re going to be late,” my mother said, her voice laced with exhaustion as she opened the door. They said I was a spitting image of her—same height, same bone structure. Where she carried her weight with soft curves, I was lean muscle, honed by endless squats and push-ups. “You’re perfect size, Ashton,” she’d tell me.
“I’m almost ready, just let me brush my hair and teeth,” I said, slipping past her and into the bathroom.
I stared at my reflection. Soft, round eyes, framed by raven black hair. My nose wasn't petite, but it wasn't harsh either. My lips were full, naturally rosy. At my old school, boys had thrown themselves at me, but none of them had sparked anything beyond polite interest. I preferred to keep to myself, even though popularity had clung to me like a second skin. I craved anonymity, but my classmates hadn’t understood.
After finishing in the bathroom, I found my mother waiting by the front door.
She offered a small smile. We walked out together, the air crisp with autumn.
“So, how’s the new job, Mom?” I asked, hoping to coax her into conversation.
She sighed, sliding into the driver’s seat. “Ashton, I’m going to be your principal. I’m nervous. You’ve got a record, honey—fights, suspensions. How am I supposed to send my daughter home for fighting? You said you wouldn’t fight anymore, but…” Her voice trailed off. Before my father’s betrayal, my mother had always been the one to pick me up after school, to deal with the fallout of my brawls. Everyone assumed I was stealing their boyfriends, threatening me until I finally snapped. I'd become the "Bad Girl" of the school, and the fights had been brutal. And I always won.
I decided to ignore my mother for the rest of the ride. I glanced out the side window and noticed a blacked-out Escalade tailing us.
Damn, that’s a nice ride.
“Watch your language, Ashton!” my mother snapped. I ignored her as we pulled into the parking lot. The Escalade slowed, matching our pace. It pulled into the principal’s parking spot. My mother slammed on the brakes, throwing me forward.
“Are you okay, honey?!” she squealed. I looked up to see two tall blondes stepping out of the Escalade. They glanced at my mother and laughed, a cruel, dismissive sound. I unfastened my seatbelt, anger simmering. Before my mother could react, I was already out of the car. The blondes looked down their noses at me, a condescending sneer twisting their lips. I was six feet even, and they were looking up.
“Aww, did we take your spot, sweetheart?” one of the blondes chirped. I clenched my fists and walked up to the one who'd been driving. I grabbed her purse as she screeched, and pulled her keys out. I walked to the driver side of her car getting in, and put it in reverse. All while the two blonde bimbos are watching with shocked expressions. I pulled all the way out of the spot, and honk signaling for my mom to pull in then I drive all the way to the end of the lot almost to the road.
I parked the champagne-colored Prius, hopping out and locking it. I skipped back to the two blondes, dropping the keys back in the girl’s hand, and walked straight into the school without a second glance. As soon as I got through the doors, all eyes were on me. My name crackled over the intercom. I scowled and trudged toward the office.
“Ashton Olivia Niko! What exactly was that?!” My mother shrieked. She was standing behind her desk, arms crossed. I clenched my jaw and let my hair fall in my face.
“They stole your assigned spot, Mom,” I sighed.
“Ashton, honey, please don’t make this hard on me. Get to class. We’ll talk about this when we get home.” She pinched the bridge of her nose and turned away from me. I grabbed my backpack off her desk—a studded leather bag sagging with weight—and walked through the door, ignoring the stares.
I pushed open the classroom door and found an empty seat in the back. I looked up at the front of the room. The teacher was leaning back in his chair, feet propped on the desk. He looked barely older than me, golden brown hair framing a sharp jawline. When our eyes met, he smirked.
My face flushed crimson just as the bell rang.