Wild Cards

Chapter 9

CHAPTER 9

Derek


Ashtyn cursed a bunch of times, then rushed out of the house like a zombie was chasing her. I find her in the front yard, staring at the mess littering the lawn and the trees.

Holy shit.

“Go away,” she cries as she frantically lifts the pads that are stuck to the driveway spelling FREMONT’S BITCH. She’s got what looks like ketchup all over her hands. It gets on her hockey jersey as she piles pads in her arms.

As a guy who appreciates pranks, I’m impressed. This took some serious thought and effort. Retaliation would be fun to plan. But Ashtyn’s breathing hard, like a dragon about to spit fi re. She’s
not amused or impressed. She’s pissed. I grab a garbage can next to the garage and start untying tampons from the branches.

She yanks the can away from me. “What are you doing?”

“Helping.”

She’s managed to get ketchup on her face and hair. She pushes stray strands out of her face, but that only makes it worse. “I don’t need your help.”

I glance at the tampons waving in the air above her. “Come on, Ashtyn. You know it’ll take you twice as long to do it yourself.” I pull a tampon off a branch and wag it at her. “Let go of that big ego of yours and let me help you.”

She grabs the tampon out of my hand and tosses it into the trash. “I don’t think you’d find it funny if this happened to you.” Turning her back, she drags the can out of my reach. “Why don’t you get brownie points by helping my sister or nephew, because you’re so good at that? You’re not earning any with me, so you might as well go back in the house.”

If that’s the way she wants it, fine. I hold my hands up in surrender. Let her deal with the mess. I know from past experience that getting mixed up with girls like Ashtyn, who take life way too seriously, is more trouble than it’s worth. “You are one bitter girl.”

“What’s going on out here?” Gus demands, then turns to me. “Did you have anything to do with this?”

“No, sir.”

Ashtyn keeps ripping pads off the trees.

Gus huffs and looks at Ashtyn as if this prank is the worst thing that could possibly happen. “I’m calling the police.”

“Dad, no!” Ashtyn gives her father a pleading look. “If you call the police, everyone will accuse me of being a weak girl who can’t handle being team captain.”

“You are a girl, Ashtyn,” Gus states matter-of-factly. “Why don’t you let some boy be captain? Have someone else’s family deal with vandalism to their yard.”

“Gus, it’s not her fault,” I say. Maybe they need to hear the voice of an unbiased third party who doesn’t think getting pranked is the end of the world. “It’s just a prank.”

Gus turns on me. “Just a prank, huh? Pranks are not funny.”

“It’s not a big deal, Gus. Instead of yellin’ at her, why don’t you—”

“Derek, stay out of this.” Ashtyn stands in front of Gus, demanding all his attention. She stands tall, shoulders back and head high. “Dad, I promise I’ll clean everything up before you get home from work. Don’t call the police. Please.”

Gus shakes his head, completely frustrated as he eyes the yard again. “If your mother were here, she’d never allow you to be on the football team. She’d sign you up for cooking classes or dance
classes or something like that.”

Ashtyn looks like his words are a slap in the face. “I like football, Dad. I’m good at it. If you’d come to a game or practice and just watch me . . .”

Her voice trails to a whisper as Gus dismisses her words and walks to his car. “Make sure the yard is clean before I get home, or I will call the police.” He gets in his car and drives off. After he’s gone, Ashtyn takes a deep breath to compose herself, then goes back to taking pads off the trees.

I start pulling tampons off branches too high for her to reach.

“You know,” I say as I reach around her and toss the tampons in the trash. “Just because you can deal with bullshit on your own doesn’t mean you should.”