Chapter XV: Parental Guidance

It wasn't so much the Ferris wheel itself that presented the problem—it was more what occurred on it. Somehow I ended up stuck with Ashton again, because Britt practically leapt over Aimee—one of the girls from school—to get in the same car with Josh. Courtney and her boyfriend filled the next, and Aimee, appearing somewhat salty about Britt's stealing Josh, reluctantly joined Dave in the following car. Rubbish.

After a begrudging glance in Ash's direction, I followed him into the last car. An awkward silence hemmed in around us, although I could distinctly hear cheerful voices and laughs coming from outside our little sphere of solemnity.

We remained perfectly hostile as our car rose higher and higher in the air. Truth be told, I'd never ridden in a Ferris wheel before, mainly because they looked boring to me. In addition, I'd heard that it was primarily couples who went on them, and I didn't have a boyfriend.

With that thought, my eyes landed on Ash who was sitting straight across from me, and I felt a blush threaten to warm my cheeks again. I somehow managed to keep my embarrassment in check by looking out the window at the shrinking fairgrounds.

We had ascended to about half the wheel's height, when, suddenly, our car experienced a sharp jolt. It was obviously a mechanical error, for I was jerked right from my seat. Screaming in surprise, I tried to grab hold of something, but my body had already been flung too far forward.

Panicked, I threw my arms around the first thing I came into contact with, which, of course, was Ash. I didn't fully realize this until he let out a strangled exclamation from underneath me. "Maine, what the—"

Horrified, I jerked back from him, which only caused the car to rock back and forth further. I then proceeded in my retreat to trip and nearly fall onto the floor of the car, only to be caught by Ashton's arms.

We were both on our feet now—at least, he was. I was probably putting more weight on him than I was on my own two feet. Our car had nearly reached the top of the wheel by now, but I paid no heed to the scenery.

I was too busy staring into Ashton's eyes—into those chocolate orbs that stared right back into my blue ones. With my body pressed flush against his and our faces so close, I, for a nerve-wracking moment, saw his gaze drop to my lips. What is he doing?

My heart was racing by now—so fast that I could hardly take it. Ash was way too close, and I was imagining things that threatened the mere fabric of my relationship with him.

Over the expanse of a second, my own gaze flickered down to his lips and then just as quickly back up to his eyes, but it was too late. As soon as I looked into Ash's eyes, I knew I'd been caught. It didn't matter that he had been the first to commit the offense. All that mattered was that he had seen me do it—right in front of his eyes.

He stared down at me now, eyes narrowed, as if in some sort of challenge. I desperately wished that he would let me go, but under the heat of his gaze, I felt powerless to do anything except stare right back.

That was when the camera flashed.

Taken by surprise, we both whipped our heads in the direction of that sly camera, and, upon locating it, a loud curse spewed from Ashton's mouth. In response, I brought my hands to his chest and shoved him away. Then, as my brain put the pieces together, I dropped to my seat and ran a distressed hand through my hair.

Why hadn't the people in charge of the ride told us that this ride did pictures? Stupid, rubbish ride! I almost felt like swearing myself—but that that would only make me feel worse. Instead, I let out a frustrated groan as I banged my head against the back of my seat.

Ashton sat down then, and I made a point not to look at him, until I heard him swear under his breath again. Glancing up, I was about to reprimand him, when he suddenly spoke. "This wouldn't have happened if you weren't so clumsy, you know."

Feeling my anger flare, I snapped through gritted teeth, "No, it wouldn't have happened if you had just let me go right away."

That seemed to shut him down somewhat, and he even appeared a trifle uncomfortable about the fact that my words were true. I guess he didn't want to face the reality that he had held me longer than necessary. I didn't want to face it either, because it only confused me more.

Thus, we remained in a tense silence for the rest of the ride, avoiding eye contact at all costs. What previous rides I had thought were awkward now seemed like trivialities compared to this one. At last, our Ferris wheel car touched down on planet Earth, and we were allowed to breathe fresh air once again as we exited the car.

Despite this renewal of freedom, I was keenly aware that our struggle was far from over. This fear was reinforced when I glanced in the direction of the photo station and saw Josh making his way toward us, a photograph in hand and a sly grin on his face.

Ash must have seen this too, for he spit out another curse and paused in his tracks.

In spite of my anxiety, I still managed to hiss at him, "Would you stop swearing for like five minutes? Please!"

He barely looked at me before doing the last thing I expected him to. With one more glance in Josh's direction, Ashton reached down and, grabbing my hand, whispered, "Run!"

"What—Ash!" I exclaimed in surprise, but he was already pulling me away. I had no choice but to pick up my feet and run after him, despite my confusion. Pushing through the masses of people, I was reminded of our flight from Rowlett last weekend. And yet, this was different, mostly because I wasn't terrified for my life this time around, and partly because I was not sure why we were running in the first place.

After we'd run a few hundred feet, Ashton finally slowed down a bit, and, after glancing back, he took the care to explain his actions. Through ragged breaths, he got out, "They saw the—picture, and I didn't want to—deal with Josh or any of them."

Understandable. "Finally. Something we agree on," I muttered, and noted with a small ounce of embarrassment that our palms were still clasped together. Trying to ignore this, I added, "The last thing I want to do is explain myself to Josh stupid Presley."

Ash glanced down at me then, and he almost appeared as if he were going to smile. I felt a strange sort of warmth fill my chest, before I forced myself to look away from Ash. I could not let him creep back in without a fight.

Instead, I turned away and began leading us to another part of the fair. We had fast walked about fifty paces or so, when we ran into the last two people on the planet that I wanted to encounter right now.

My parents.

And when I spotted them, I knew that they'd already seen me, leaving me no chance of escape. Feeling my pulse quicken, I stopped in my tracks and ripped my hand from Ashton's. He glanced down at me in confusion before looking up at what had me so terrified.

"Maine!" my mother exclaimed with surprise, but her eyes were focused on the person standing next to me. As they approached us, I saw that my father's gaze was trained on Ashton as well.

I felt my stomach begin to churn uncomfortably. How could I have let this happen? Why are they even here? "Uh, hi, Mom. Hi, Dad." I greeted them cautiously.

Ashton tensed beside me, but he did not say anything. At the moment, I wasn't sure what would be better—for him to speak or remain silent.

As it were, my parents had no problem doing the talking. "And who is this young man you're with?" my father interrogated almost immediately.

As their gazes ran up and down the length of Ashton, I could not help but be reminded of all the little things about him that would surely disturb my already-skeptical parents. His leather jacket, his ripped jeans, his hard expression—everything about him.

Somehow I still managed to answer my parents. "This is, umm, Ashton. He goes to my school."

My dad was still watching Ash warily as he questioned, "Does Ashton have a last name?"

Rubbish, rubbish, rubbish!

I was about to reply, when Ash beat me to it. In a surprisingly respectful voice, he answered, "Savvonski—sir."

My anxiety only mounted. It didn't matter that he'd said it in the most harmless way possible—it was the name itself that presented a problem. "Savvonski?" my mother repeated in subtle horror. I felt like whacking myself on the head. This was not going at all as planned.

I could practically feel the tension radiating off of Ashton, and I now knew the reason. Why wouldn't he be tense? He had just found out all too well that I hadn't said a word about him to my parents. As far as they were concerned, no Ashton Savvonski existed.

I could hardly blame him for being upset.

My mother stole my attention again when she questioned, "Savvonski—as in, the son of Jacob Savvonski?" I didn't have to be a genius to know that she was not happy.

Ash was ready for it this time. "Yes, the exact one."

I noted with regret that he had now turned against me intentionally—what better way to get back at me than to betray me to my parents? If only I had been on good terms with Ashton today.

I winced as my mother raised her eyebrows at both me and Ashton. "You are? And I take it you live with them?"

Feeling my last trace of hope crumble to the ground, I waited in silence for Ash to say the words I was dreading more than getting my wisdom teeth pulled. "Yes, I do."

Now both my parents were staring at us with a mixture of disbelief and displeasure. My father's jaw clenched, and my mother's eyes narrowed. I felt like hunted prey without any means of escape. All three of them were stacked up against me—my mom, my dad, and now Ash. Then again, Ash wasn't exactly going to get away with this either.

"Maine Eilerts," my mother spoke suddenly, her voice grave and condemnatory. "Just when were you planning on telling me this?"

I shrank into my sweatshirt, fearing what my near future held. "Uh—I—"

Ash cut in then, all too complacently. "I don't think she was ever planning on telling you, Mrs. Eilerts." What is wrong with him?

"Ashton," I hissed furiously, nudging him with my elbow. Turning to my parents then, I hastily tried to defend myself. "I really was going to tell you—sometime."

"Maine," my mother said warningly, and I bit my lip in trepidation. A few seconds passed as she stared at me condescendingly. Finally, she snapped, "Come with me, missy."

Then she took off walking in the opposite direction, and I had no choice but to follow her, leaving my father and Ashton standing behind together. I glanced back once at Ashton, shooting him a dirty look. He just lifted one eyebrow in mockery of me.

Then I was forced to turn my attention to my mother, who was leading me to a small clearing outside of the carnival traffic. When she came to a halt in the clearing and turned to me, I could already see how this conversation was going to pan out—all in her favor, none in mine.

"What were you thinking, Maine?" she hissed angrily, her hands balling into fists at her sides. It had been a long time since I'd seen my mother this upset.

I tried desperately to pull myself from the quick sand I was stuck in, but all I could do was stutter. "I just—I'm sorry—I—"

"You're sorry?" my mother repeated incredulously. "If you were so sorry, wouldn't you have told your father and me about this? Wouldn't you have told us that you've been spending every weekend alone in the same house as some scummy delinquent?" She was practically yelling now.

She was clearly right, and I was clearly wrong, but something about her comment made my blood boil in my veins. So I, without thinking, shot back, "Scummy delinquent? How can you say he's a scummy delinquent? You don't even know him, Mom!"

I knew my defensiveness shocked her, for she stared at me with wide eyes for a second, before retorting, "I know enough just by looking at him!" I opened my mouth to reply, but she went on, "Don't take me for a fool, Maine. I know a delinquent when I see one!"

I wanted to say something—anything, really—to counter her brash statements, but I was too confused and upset to do anything but stand there with my own hands clenched into fists. So I just stared at her, my incense evident on my face, as I waited for her to say more.

Seeming somewhat calmed by my silence, but choleric nonetheless, my mother took a breath before saying through clenched teeth, "I am very disappointed in you, Maine. I thought you knew better than to do something like this."

So that was it then—she was disappointed in me. I knew I had messed up; it didn't take a genius to figure that much out. But for her to assume the worst—that was just plain insulting. In a somewhat injured tone, I wondered aloud, "You don't actually think we've been doing anything, do you?"

My mother stared at me for a long moment, appearing to ponder my question. Just what did she think? After nearly killing me with her prolonged silence, she finally replied, "I honestly don't know what to think right now, Maine. I didn't even know the Savvonskis had a son until five minutes ago."

Her slightly resigned voice told me that I was at least gaining some ground, but I somehow managed to throw even that away in a matter of seconds by trying once again to justify myself. "I know, Mom. I know, and I should have told you! But I just—I didn't want you to worry, and I knew you'd act like this if I told you."

Something sharp flared in her eyes at that, notifying me immediately that I'd made a mistake. "And how exactly am I acting?" my mother snapped defensively. "Do you think I'm being unfair, Maine? Because if so, then you—"

"No!" I exclaimed in frustration, regardless of whether the refutation was true or not. "No, Mom. I don't think you're being unfair! I'm just trying to make you understand my view!"

That only seemed to incense her further, and she countered hostilely, "I'll do the understanding when I find a reason to. So far you've done nothing to warrant my understanding, so don't even think about trying to make me understand!"

"But—"

She cut me off with harsh finality. "We'll continue this discussion at the Savvonskis'!"

Great. Just great.

My mom wasn't joking either. Twenty minutes later, all six of us were standing in the foyer of the Savvonskis' house. I half expected my mom to behave uncouthly, considering her evident anger concerning the situation, but she somehow held an air of civility that was unprecedented in most cases of AMS (Angry Mother Syndrome). Granted, she was incensed, and she made no point to hide that detail. She did, however, refrain from yelling at Pam in the same way that she had at me.

That did not change the fact that I was beyond humiliated—and I had the sneaking suspicion that that was precisely my mother's design. At least I was comforted in the knowledge that Ashton was just as ill at ease as I—perhaps even more so. He was standing opposite of me, with his hands shoved awkwardly into his pockets and his eyes shifting back and forth between my parents and his. We were both undoubtedly going to be penalized for my actions, but I held no sympathy for him.

Besides, I was too distracted by the conversation that was going down between my mother and Mrs. Savvonski to care much about Ash at the moment. "So you didn't think there was anything wrong with having two teenagers alone under the same roof for extended periods of time?" my mother was questioning accusingly.

Still appearing as easy-going as ever, Pam tried to explain herself in a way that would be of no offense—something I had failed to accomplish earlier. "I am terribly sorry if I stepped out of bounds, Mrs. Eilerts. However, I can assure you that I had only the best intentions for both Ashton and Maine."

"Yes," my mother said skeptically, "I'm sure you did. Still, as a parent, I really can't condone exposing my child to such a scenario."

Maybe it was my imagination, but Pam seemed to bristle slightly at that. "And what scenario is that exactly?"

"As I said," my mother answered, "it's about my daughter spending the weekends alone with your son."

For a second, I was unsure what was upsetting Pam, but her next words told me all I needed to know. "And just what is wrong with my son?"

My gaze snapped to Ashton, and I found him staring at Pam in disbelief. I myself was shocked, but I tried to control my expression as I observed Ash. A second later, his eyes shifted to mine, and his brow furrowed. We watched each other for an uncertain moment, before my attention was pulled elsewhere by my mother.

"No—nothing is wrong with your son," she said unconvincingly. "He just—I just don't want my daughter spending so much time with him."

I could hardly believe her. I knew she was upset, but was she seriously going to say such things right in front of Ashton—and his parents, no less? It was humiliating just standing there. How was I going to face the Savvonskis again—if, that is, I ever got to see them again after this?

"Look," Mrs. Savvonski replied in her same subtly irritated tone, "I realize that you're concerned about your daughter and all, but I know my son well enough to know that he's not going to corrupt her or whatever it is you assume he's doing!"

I winced somewhat at her words, for, if I were being perfectly honest, I had a suspicion that Ash was doing exactly that to me. How else could I have ended up jumping on the back of a gangster and biting him? That was not the Maine my parents knew.

My mother seemed a bit troubled that she had made her presumptions so obvious, but she still went on to say, "But you can't honestly expect two teenagers to spend so much time under the same roof alone without doing anything at all. She's a girl and he's a guy, for Pete's sake!"

My jaw dropped. "Mom!" I hissed at her indignantly, but she paid me no heed as she awaited Mrs. Savvonski's response.

And Pam was all too ready to provide her with one. "I know that—which is why I've had our neighbor check up on them every weekend. I'm perfectly aware of what it's like being a teenager, Mrs. Eilerts—I was one once, same as you. I just think we should have a little more faith in our children is all."

I bit my lip in both satisfaction and embarrassment. At the same time, my mind wandered to Daphne. Just what had the elderly woman told Pam? I realized now that it had been her duty all along to make sure that Ash and I weren't making babies—and we obviously weren't—but Daphne had never exactly found us in favorable situations.

So how much did Mrs. Savvonski know?

I stopped wondering when Pam answered my inaudible question herself. "Besides, faith or no faith, I don't think you need to be concerned about this. According to my neighbor's reports, Maine and Ash have been doing an excellent job of staying away from each other."

I felt like snorting at the thought, and, out of habit, I shared a look with Ashton. I knew we were still at odds, and, as soon as this little parley was finished, we'd be back at it again. For the moment, we smirked at each other. There had obviously been a lot of things that Daphne left out of her reports. Despite her indirect dishonesty, I couldn't help but feel grateful to her.

That gratefulness increased when I glanced at my mother and saw her expression soften somewhat. Pam was making ground with this.

"Well," my mother began, appearing to be reconsidering her stance. "Thank you for at least taking that precaution. And I can't deny that you've been doing my daughter a great service by letting her work for you." Yes, yes, yes! "However, I would really appreciate it if you let me know your neighbor's reports every weekend, because apparently I can't trust my own daughter these days." She turned to me then, and I guiltily bit my lip. "And, Maine, if I hear so much as a suspicion that things between you and Ash are more than friendly, this whole arrangement is over. Do you understand?"

Mutely, I nodded my head, trying to ignore the fact that Ashton was in the same room, hearing every single word of this awkward conversation. My mother appeared at least partially satisfied, though, so I was soaring inside.

Soon enough, my parents and I were exiting the Savvonskis' house and making our way to the car. Clearly my carnival visit with Ashton was long over, and I would be lying if I said I was disappointed. It was just as well that my parents had interrupted us. For the time being, I really didn't want to see Ashton any more than my parents wanted me to see him.

Of course, that did not alleviate the awkward atmosphere that surrounded us during the drive home. I would have tried to explain to them that Ashton and I hated each other—for the most part—if it weren't for the fact that they didn't exactly trust me at the moment.

Thus, I endured the ride in silence, dreading whatever the following day held in store for me.