Chapter XIV: Fair Affairs

All Thursday night, nightmares plagued me, the majority of which contained Ashton's scornful face. When I awoke, I found myself in a sweat, and I immediately threw the covers off in an attempt to cool off. Inadvertently, I looked across the room and saw the outline of Ashton's sweatshirt hanging from my laundry basket—I'd never returned it last weekend.

Squeezing my eyes shut, I tried to shove him from my mind. "Get out of my stupid head," I grumbled as I finally opened my eyes and tumbled from my bed. After slipping my glasses on, I glanced at the alarm clock and found it to read 9:15 AM.

I sighed in relief, satisfied that I'd at least been able to sleep in. It would have been galling if nightmares of Ashton had robbed me of sleep as well.

Not bothering to trade my pajamas for daytime clothes, I felt a sudden prick of excitement at the realization that I had the house all to myself today, being that my parents were both at work. At last, some good news. Smiling for the first time in a while, I opened the door to my room and took off down the hallway. I descended the stairs to the first floor and stepped into the kitchen, on the hunt for food.

I was about to grab a box of cereal when my phone suddenly rang, interrupting my peace and quiet. "Party pooper," I muttered as I walked into the living room to pull my phone from its charger.

Checking the caller ID, I was surprised and slightly baffled to find Mrs. Savvonski's name on my phone screen. Why would she be calling me on a Friday?

Curious, I swiped the answer button and brought my phone to my ear. "Hello, this is Maine," I said mechanically.

"Maine! Hello!" Pam's cheery voice flooded through the phone. "This is Pam Savvonski."

Still confused, I feigned ignorance as I replied, "Oh, Pam. Hi!"

As she began rattling off, I was once again reminded why I hated phone conversations. So awkward. "So, Maine. You know about the carnival in town, right?"

"Yeah, it comes every year," I replied, unsure if her question was rhetorical or not.

"Right. That one," Pam confirmed happily. "Well, I was thinking this week about if you wanted to go to it. I know you're working this weekend, but when Ash slept in this morning, I was reminded that there's no school today for you kids." Just where is this going? "Do you have anyone you're planning on going with?"

The carnival. With everything in disarray this past week, I had totally forgotten about it. I'd actually been planning for a while now to go with Britt, but last I'd heard, she was busy this Friday. Besides, I wasn't so sure I'd want to go with her anyway, after our delightful phone conversation the other evening. Thus, I answered Pam with, "No, not really."

"Perfect!" she exclaimed suddenly, causing me to jump.

"Perfect?"

"Yes. This works out wonderfully," she said in satisfaction. Then, as if suddenly remembering an important detail, she hastily asked, "You do want to go, right?"

"Uh…yeah?" I was beyond confused by now.

I could practically hear her smile through the phone. "Great! You can go with Ashton!"

I almost dropped the phone. What? "Uh—umm—" I couldn't even muster a coherent response.

Apparently I wasn't the only person in the dark. In the background, I heard a distant male voice exclaim, "Mom! What are you—?"

"Oh, shush!" Pam hissed at him before addressing me. "Yes. You two can go together. He'll pick you up in fifteen minutes. Okay?" She hung up before I could even reply.

Shocked, I stared at my phone for a full five seconds, before jumping to action. I was practically tripping over myself as I scrambled up the staircase and tumbled into my room. My mind spinning, I dizzily approached my dresser before ripping open one of the drawers. After rifling through an odd arrangement of poorly-folded shirts, I forced myself to pause and think. What am I doing? What even am I doing? Why am I expecting that he'll actually come? I should just stay in my pajamas.

And yet, as if driven by some manic force, I was pulling my night shirt off and shimmying out of my shorts. My brain was a muddled mess as I tried to figure out what to wear. As if my clothes mattered at a time like this.

I would have worn shorts and a T-shirt, but since the early October weather in Meadowfield, Michigan was slightly sub-par, I settled on a pair of ripped cutoff jeans and a black sweatshirt. Going on as if my behavior were perfectly normal, I then tried to figure out what shoes to wear. Selecting a set of combat boots I'd only worn once in my life, I pulled those on and laced them up with fervor.

Since the carnival came rather late this year, I felt that it was safe to assume there wouldn't be many—or any—water rides, so I didn't concern myself over that.

Staring at myself in my full-length mirror, I realized just how ridiculous I was being. It wasn't like Ashton would actually come pick me up in…seven minutes now. Just seeing how long I'd taken to get dressed, I frowned. What was wrong with me?

And yet, I carried myself downstairs and forced myself to eat some breakfast, despite my sudden loss of appetite. Time and time again, I found my eyes traveling toward the clock hanging on the kitchen wall. It took me about five minutes to finish eating, and then I spent the remaining time pacing the house and panicking.

What was I supposed to do if he actually came? Ignore him? Act like I hadn't just thrown these clothes on for the sole sake of going to the carnival with him? Pretend everything was cool? I knew that last idea was hopeless. After all, Ashton had made it quite clear this past week that everything was not cool.

His icy glare was still fresh on my mind today as I paced and paced. He hated me. Surely, he hated me. So there was no way he would come today, even if Pam tried to drag him by his ears. Right?

The sound of a motorcycle engine outside abruptly shook me from my thoughts. My stomach leaping to my throat, I ran to the window and peeked out to see if my suspicions were correct.

Sure enough, Ashton's familiar red and black motorcycle was speeding into my parents' driveway. The instant I saw him, I jerked away from the window, my heart pounding away in my chest. Thankfully I'd had the sense to wear a shirt that didn't show sweat marks, for I was already sweating.

Why did he come? I didn't want him to actually come! Do I hide? Do I go outside? Do I pretend no one's home? Do I tell him I can't go? But I already got dressed and everything—

I nearly jumped out of my skin when the doorbell rang.

Feeling sick, I ran an anxious hand through my hair before pulling myself rigidly to the door. As my heartrate reached an all-time high, I placed my hand on the door knob, and, after a moment's hesitation, turned the knob to open the door.

Ashton was standing there, all tall, cold, and bored; while I stood on the other side of the threshold, trying just to stay on my feet. "Ashton," I could barely get the word out without my voice sounding weird and slightly strangled.

"Maine," he answered in a steady, emotionless tone. We stared at each other for a moment, neither of us quite sure how to act. Finally, Ashton spoke again, this time in irritation. "Well, are you coming or not? My mom pretty much forced me, so—"

"Yeah. Whatever," I interrupted him. "I wouldn't want to disappoint your mom, would I?" It felt oddly satisfying to get that out of the way. We had both made it clear that we were only doing this for Pam—not for ourselves, and most definitely not for each other.

It was with that that I followed Ashton down the steps and toward his motorcycle. My mind automatically flashed back to the last time I rode on the back of his bike, but that only made me more upset, so I forced the image from my mind. We didn't utter a word as Ashton put on his helmet and handed me an extra. He must have bought new ones, for we'd lost the last ones at the archeology museum.

Then Ashton swung his leg over the seat and revved the engine to life. I was less than pleased to get on behind him, but I forced myself to follow his lead and reluctantly put my arms around his waist. It was torture pressing my body against his, especially when I felt him immediately stiffen under my touch, but I had no choice. Unless I wanted to fall right off the back.

We were soon zipping out of my driveway and into the street, heading in the general direction of the carnival. At least when I was on the back of his bike, I could blame the racing of my heart on fear of falling off—not on whatever else it might actually be due to. As Ashton's motorcycle sped through the streets of Meadowfield, I held on tightly, and tried my best to ignore the fact that it felt so strange when both our bodies were as rigid as ice. All I wanted to do was relax just a little bit, but the tension in Ashton's back warned me not to.

Thankfully, the ride to the carnival only lasted about ten minutes, and before I knew it, I was pulling away from Ashton and climbing off his motorcycle. Removing my helmet, I avoided his eyes as I handed it to him. I did note with annoyance that he seemed to rip it from my hands in a needlessly aggressive manner.

Ashton placed both helmets on the bike, before turning toward the gateway to the carnival. Heading in that direction, he didn't even glance behind to see if I was following. It was just as well that he ignored me. That meant I had one less thing to worry about—until he suddenly stopped in his tracks, and I collided with his back.

Surprised by the action, I leaped back and, with widened eyes, waited for his response. He just sent me a bored look, before turning away from me again. Frowning, I peeked around him to see why he'd stopped. Then I saw the ticket booth and kicked myself for not noticing it earlier.

I realized with regret that I had forgotten my purse, but Ashton paid for both of our tickets without missing a beat. I was momentarily flattered by the gesture, until I remembered who had done it. Undoubtedly, he had only done it because Pam had told him to, so it was really nothing to thank him for.

Even so, my tongue was itching to say something in thanks to him when he handed me my wristband, but I somehow managed to refrain. It was just as well, for Ashton was clearly not in the mood for anything from me. I avoided his gaze as I attempted to put my wristband on. Regrettably, accomplishing that feat was not as easy as I had presumed.

After about thirty seconds of watching my struggle, Ashton lost his patience and snapped, "Stop it! You're only making it worse."

Stopping what I was doing only to glare up at him, I questioned in exasperation, "Well, what am I supposed to do? Just let it put itself on?"

Frowning at me, he reached out impatiently to snatch the wristband out of my hands. Before I could react, he grabbed my left wrist and wrapped the band around it, sealing it almost perfectly. "There," he said tersely. For some reason, this gesture only made me more upset, and I made sure to yank my wrist free with as much force as possible.

I could feel his glare on me as I turned to enter the carnival, but I ignored him. It was asinine to fight this early in the morning, and I knew that with a little more prodding, both of us would lose it. That was why I figured it was best for us to just ignore each other. It really was too bad that we had to stick together—or did we?

"Hey, Ashton," I quickly spoke up, breaking our momentary lapse of silence. He was now by my side, so I could see his head turning my way even without looking directly at him. He said nothing, so I continued. "Should we just split up? Your mom probably won't find out."

A dry chuckle left his lips. "Did I hear that correctly? Perfect little Maine wants to disobey an elder? Wow, times must be changing."

"Just stop it," I retorted, stopping in my tracks altogether. Ashton stopped as well, and I turned to face him challengingly. "I was only saying that to make you happy, you know. It's obvious that you want nothing to do with me—and the feeling's mutual, so why don't we just leave each other alone?"

I expected him to immediately agree, but he surprised me. "You're right about one thing—I do want nothing to do with you. But that still doesn't change the fact that we're stuck together for the rest of the day, so just give it up, Eilerts." What?

"No, why don't you give it up?" I snapped, not about to relent. "You're just going to be a jerk all day, so why should I be forced to hang out with you?"

Ashton stared at me with narrowed eyes for a long moment, before pronouncing slowly, "Because I want you to."

My lips parting in disbelief, I debated how to respond to that. Because he wants me to? I didn't even know what that meant. "You—what?" I finally stuttered after a pregnant pause.

"You heard me. Because I want you to." He said it with such straightforwardness that I found myself even more confused than I had been the first time he said it.

My answer came without permission. "But you hate me."

"Exactly."

I could hardly believe him. "Uh, thank you?" When Ash just continued to stare at me expectantly, I went on, "I still don't get it. You say you hate me…so why do you want me stuck by your side all day?"

"Why do you think?" he said before turning toward the nearest ride. Just before he began walking, he added, "It's so I can annoy the hell out of you."

Two hours later, Ashton and I were standing in line for one of the rollercoasters. We'd only been on six rides so far, due to the long waiting lines, and this was going to be our first rollercoaster ride of the day.

Our moods hadn't improved much since our argument two hours ago, and I doubted they would be improving any time soon. After all, Ash had told me he hated me. He had professed it right to my face. And it had hurt far more than I wanted to admit.

Despite our ill tempers, we had begun to form a bit of a system. When walking or waiting in line, we always kept at least one yard of space between us, and we would only speak when it was absolutely necessary. As an unspoken rule, we kept our hands and eyes to ourselves and made sure not to smile when looking in the general direction of the other.

This made the rides themselves somewhat troublesome, being that we were forced to break a few of our rules, but we still managed to ignore each other as best we could. I had never in my short existence spent so much energy on just trying to appear cross. The problem with this effort was that, as the sun climbed higher and higher in the sky, I started to lose concentration on being angry.

I would find myself momentarily smiling about something at the fair, and then I would have to immediately pull my face back into restraints. After all, if my spirits lifted, I would lose to Ashton. I was not about to let that happen. If Ashton could remain incensed for the remainder of our time together, then so could I!

We probably scared about fifteen small children with our glares, but we were so wrapped up in our own silent war that we didn't even seem to notice. We did notice, however, when a familiar voice sounded from behind us. "Maine? Ashton?"

Ash and I turned simultaneously, and our eyes landed on none other than Britt Owens. Accompanying her were Josh, Dave, and three other people I recognized from school. Why is she with them? Hardly bothering to mask my surprise, I exclaimed, "Britt! What are you—why didn't you tell me you were coming here?"

A touch of panic graced my friend's eyes as she tried to come up with an excuse. Before she could open her mouth, I added somewhat spitefully, "Sorry, I didn't realize you already had people you were coming with." Yeah, you went and replaced me for some stupid boy. Thanks a lot.

She must have sensed my injury, for, after glancing at the others, she pulled me aside. Leaning close, she said in a hushed voice, "I would have told you, but I figured this was my only chance to spend time with Josh."

As if that helps. "Right. So you told me you were busy and didn't say why," I said drily.

Frowning, Britt jumped to her defense. "I only did it because you've been so prickly about Josh lately. I don't know why you have such a problem with him." Maybe because of what I heard some girls saying yesterday in gym class—about how Josh had slept with Cheryl Flowers a few weeks back and never called her back? Yeah, that was a real kicker.

My expression turned sour, but she continued on. "But you know what, Maine? You're one to talk. You came here with Ashton Savvonski. Everyone knows about his reputation."

I stared at her in shock. What? Where had that come from? Her words were cutting, and I almost lashed back in defense of Ashton, until I remembered that I was mad at him at the moment too. Even so, Britt was talking about things she didn't understand, and it was starting to rub me the wrong way. Thus, for a moment, I forgot my anger at Ashton and retorted, "So what about his reputation? At least he doesn't sleep around."

Glaring at me, Britt snapped, "How would you know?"

I was about to fire back, when I realized what we were doing. We were fighting—like toddlers too. Although I still felt slighted, I forced myself to calm down. My face softening somewhat, I made sure to keep my tone in check as I muttered, "Look. I'm sorry, Britt. I guess I was just a little offended that you didn't tell me about this."

Remorse filled her eyes almost instantly. Britt and I had never been in a fight that last much longer than a day, so we were both eager to fix this. Britt appeared quite sincere in her apology. "I know, I know. I'm sorry, Maine. I was just scared of what you'd think."

"I know—" I started to say, when a hand suddenly jabbed me in the shoulder, causing me to jump in surprise. Whipping my head around, I frowned at the sight of an impatient-looking Ashton. "Hello? There's a line," he said with annoyance, gesturing toward the line that had now moved ahead a few yards. "Could you two stop with the chit chat, so we don't have to stand here all day?"

I felt Britt bristle behind me, and I was reminded once again that, despite our altercation, we were still on the same side. Feeling reassured by this, I allowed myself the liberty to roll my eyes at Ashton. "Okay, okay, Trashton. We get it."

His jaw clenched in irritation, but I paid him no mind as I swung my arm over Britt's shoulders and covered the distance to where the line had moved up. After a few minutes, conversation picked up again among our larger group, and my mood brightened considerably. I noticed that Ashton didn't show any sign of cheer though, even when his friends tried to make him laugh.

Appearing somewhat disheartened by Ashton's behavior, Dave wondered aloud, "What's wrong with you, Ash? You look terrible."

Ashton just glared at him mutely, so Josh decided to join in. "He's right, Ash. You look like hell. Shouldn't you be happy? I mean, you're here with your girlfriend, right?"

My cheeks turned the color of Britt's hot pink shirt. Did he really just say that? Josh had always been an impulsive talker, but I wished now more than ever that he would just stay quiet.

Ashton looked just as stupefied as I felt. After glancing at me for one agonizing second, he said through clenched teeth, "She is not my girlfriend."

Shrugging his shoulders indifferently, Josh replied, "Hey, calm down. I'm just saying she might as well be. The delinquent and the geek. Now isn't that just sweet?"

I felt like throttling him, and, after a quick glance in Ashton's direction, I reasoned that he might actually throttle him. Thwarting those plans, I hastily interjected. "Shut up, Josh. You know that's never going to happen."

That only provoked him to say more. Laughing, he returned, "Never going to happen? For all I know, it already has happened."

What is wrong with him? Despite my growing irritation, I couldn't seem to find more excuses that would get him off my case. Instead, I grumbled, "You're wrong, but whatever," before facing the other direction.

I made sure not to meet Ashton's eyes, for fear of my embarrassment showing on my face. Out of the corner of my eye though, I caught him looking at me, which only caused my blush to heighten. Rubbish. Rubbish. Rubbish.

An awkward silence had fallen over our group, save the hushed conversation of the other two girls from school. I couldn't hear what they were saying, but I had a creeping suspicion that it involved Ashton and me. Thankfully, we had reached the ride by then, and were thus distracted once again.

Britt and I shared a car, which made my roller coaster ride one hundred times better than all the other rides I had been on earlier that day. Finally, I was allowed to be at ease.

That ease soon came to an unfortunate end when one of the girls—I think her name was Courtney—suggested we go on the Ferris wheel.