I am so sorry for the delay, I intended to upload a chapter before i went on holiday but it never happened, then when I got back last week I was too preoccupied worrying over my exam results to write one quickly, that's also why this chapter is so short...I lost my muse and decided to just upload what I have so far rather than keep you guys waiting any longer!

Forgive me?

Again, apologies for the shortness/general shittyness of this chapter...my mind was elsewhere. Hope you enjoy none the less!

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Chapter 8

Mind still reeling, probing my thoughts for a time where I may have pissed off whatever Gods are up there, I walk home with my feet thumping angrily against the curb, cursing the chances that I would be paired up with Spencer Carlin for our English assignment.

Opening my bedroom door with more force than needed and ignoring the terrible sound of it clashing against the opposite wall, I dump my bag on the ground with a loud thud and launch myself onto my bed, letting out an elongated scream of frustration.

"Ashley?"

I jump, consequently falling off my bed with a yelp.

Kayla stands in the doorway, her face a mixture of concern and amusement. She leans against the doorframe, her arms folded, one hand clutching that awful magazine article that basically ruined my life.

"Girl, you've got yourself in a right mess haven't you?"

Having scrambled quickly to my feet, I stand by the side of my bed, looking down at my feet like a child being scolded for stealing cookies. I nod my head once, unwilling to look into my sister's face and see the same disappointment that has been etched on my dad's face ever since that bloody article was published.

Unexpectedly, and to my utmost relief, Kayla lets out a bark of laughter, closing the short distance between us and engulfing me in a warm and welcomed hug. I realise that I've been too caught up in my own personal misery to remember that Kayla was due home and just how much I've missed her.

"I leave you for a few days and all hell breaks loose," she ruffles my hair affectionately and I don't even bother to chastise her for it because I've missed human contact within the walls of this house. Her voice drops and she looks me dead in the eye, a playful sparkle in hers. "I knew you'd take after your big sister…"

And she winks and leaves my room proclaiming her need to unpack and do some 'damage control'. Needless to say my mood has improved vastly in the last few minutes.

In fact, the mood of the whole house picked up after Kayla's arrival home. My dad began talking to me, helped me put my scooter back together and even assisted in clearing some of the furniture from my room, which I still have plans to redecorate.

The only thing dampening my mood is my forced interaction with Spencer every English class. We're so far behind on our essay it's beginning to worry me. Spencer is, well, Spencer. I doubt she's worrying about an English grade; she'll probably pay her way out of high school anyway. I sigh miserably as I tap my pen against the blank page in front of me, raking my brains for an idea, a theme, hell even one of Shakespeare's works to begin analyzing…

With a groan I sink into my chair, the deadline date looming ever closer.

After a fitful night sleep and a rather boring few classes I find myself in English class once again. Spencer is slouching in her chair, fidgeting with her pencil. I stare at Spencer, unsure which emotion is stronger right now; utter frustration at her lack of co-operation or sheer hatred because it's her fault we're in this mess in the first place.

An entire class passes while neither of us speak a word to each other, and I grimace at the thought that another day has passed without any progress on this. 'This' being the entire situation not just the darned essay…I guess I was foolish enough to think Spencer would stop being a bitch just long enough to work with me through this project, I thought we bonded enough for her to realise that grades mean a lot to me. I guess she never really cared at all.

The bell rings and I sigh as Spencer leaps from her chair, having never actually bothered to unpack her bag in the first place. I become overwhelmed by an unwarranted urge to go after her, and I do. I don't want to but my legs move and eventually I catch up with her as she turns down a deserted corridor.

"Spencer," I reach out and grab her shoulder, spinning her around to face me. Her face remains expressionless and she merely folds her arms, eyes focusing somewhere over my shoulder.

"We have to work together on this project okay?" I decide to allow her attitude to slide for now, and plough on with my intentions for seeking her out. "We can't keep ignoring each other, we're not getting anything done…we haven't even started! We're ridiculously far behind and just this once I need you to stop being a heartless bitch and work with me! I need this grade…"

I trail off uncertainly, her eyes have finally snapped to mine and she remains stoic for a few moments. I realise my hand is still resting on her shoulder and I hurriedly remove it.

"You think I'm a heartless bitch?" she asks after a tense silence.

"Ye-I uh…" I stumble over my words. I hesitate. I want to scream at her how much I do think she's a heartless bitch, how much I hate her right now and how much I had anyone else but her as my partner, but I can't force the words out of my mouth because something changes in her eyes. My stuttering is enough for her though and she swiftly turns on her heel and walks away, down the hallway and out of sight.

I'm hurt.

It's a strange feeling, I usually allow people insults to bounce right off me but this is different. Sure I've been called heartless before, a bitch as well but it's more the fact that they came from Ashley's mouth than anyone else's. I always saw her as so pure, always seeing the good in everyone. I guess there's just no good left in me.

I sigh heavily, leaning my head against the cool window pane as I watch the stars flicker in the darkness of the night.

For some reason her words pierced right through me, maybe because I've just been told that too many times now. Maybe it was because I was always hoping for some form of forgiveness from her. I'm still crushing on her, and often wonder why I'm not studying my ass off for this essay as a means to get into her good book, but her cold demeanour towards me dampened my spirits when we we're paired together and I simply couldn't will myself to make such an effort for nothing.

Now every last hope I ever bore has been dashed because I'm such a heartless bitch.

I strain to keep my eyes open, unwilling to allow them to close because in the state between being awake and sound asleep I find myself picturing ways to get her to talk to me again. Just to talk to me, sometimes more when I'm feeling extra pathetic, but pleasant conversation between the two of us would put a skip in my step right now…

"God, I'm such an ass," I groan, my breath fogging up the window.

I know she wants this grade to be good; she didn't have to tell me that. She has an air of wanting to achieve when she walks into a classroom, I see that about her. Then I look at myself, underachieving, not caring about school, not even bothering to turn up to class on some occasions and I realise that her being paired up with me had basically killed her grade.

I hate myself for that…

My fists clench in anger, my jaw set tightly and my nostrils flared as my eyes stay glued to the clock at the front of the classroom. Seven minutes late…eight minutes late…I hate her. Probably hasn't even bothered turning up to school at all never mind English class. It was a stupid idea to tell her how much this grade means to me, just gave her another aspect of my life to sabotage.

Twelve minutes late…

The door suddenly flings open. The teacher is to stunned reprimand her lateness, I'm so shocked I forget my anger, the whole class falls silent as Spencer staggers towards me, arms laden with various books and pages all balanced in a haphazard pile in her hands. She dumps the pile on the desk with a puff of breath and a thud and she gingerly shakes her arms out. Given the way the table has just creaked beneath them, I'm sure the books we're a dead weight.

"I have no idea how to research shit," she says without looking at me. Instead she picks up a book and begins flicking though it. "But I got all these because they mention Shakespeare in some way and I figured you could do the studying part and I could make useless ideas." Her uncertain gaze finally lands on me and she inclines her head slightly.

This is her peace offering. I understand.

I return a small smile and begin searching the titles of the books for a place to start. I don't care than I will probably have to haul all these books home, nor the fact that Spencer implied that I will probably do all the work for us, I'm just glad that progress is finally being made.

In the middle of my vigorous note-making Spencer suddenly looks up from the book in her hands.

"I'm sorry," she blurts, eyes down and shoulders slumped.

I frown, my hand freezes mid-sentence.

"For what?"

"You know, the magazine thing…didn't think it would get so out of hand, and for being such a, um…'heartless bitch'…" she uses air quotes with her fingers and her voice shakes a little and it tugs at my heart strings and I smile sympathetically and rest my hand atop hers for a brief moment, squeezing it gently before returning my attention to the book before me.

I watch her face light up a little out of the corner of my eye.

When the bell rings for the end of class, I begin to pack the enormous pile of books into my bag. Spencer hurriedly grabs a handful and thrusts them into her own bag. At my look of confusion she shrugs, "Now we have an excuse to work together…outside the classroom?" Her statement turns into more of a question as my eyebrows arch upwards in disbelief.

"Are you making an effort Carlin?" I ask playfully.

She seems shocked for a second. "Yeah, I guess I am…"

I chuckle lightly and head to the door, she hurries to catch up with me.

I turn a sceptical eye to her as we leave the classroom.

"Are you walking with me? Like, in the corridors, where people can see you?"

"Yeah, apparently," her eyes remain straight ahead of her as she answers.

I snort, "But I'm, you know, looking far too nerdy to be seen with the queen bitch," I smirk towards her to let her know that I'm joking.

Her gaze is as steady as her voice when she replies.

"I think you look kind of cute…"

And with that she darts into her next class and I'm left to stand in the hallway alone, surrounded by the crowds of students who failed to see Spencer Carlin check me out...

The rest of the week passes relatively smoothly. Aside from the usual death glares from Madison and occasion glower from Aiden of course. But I can easily ignore them, concentration on school work, Chelsea and Clay, and Spencer too.

Although the bothers me that our encounters beyond the English classroom are brief, I am glad that she's making an effort.

"This doesn't mean we're friends," I warn her at least once a day. She usually laughs good-naturedly. I find myself heeding my own warning more and more as the week progresses. We talk. We talk more than we did when we were "friends" at the beginning. I know stuff about her now, and she knows things about me. I sometimes see a side of her I didn't know existed and then it disappears behind her bitchy exterior when someone does something to annoy her…

"Ash?" Spencer nudges my side, bobbing her head towards the clock and I realise that everyone is packing up, that the bell had rang for the end of the day and I was too lost in thoughts to notice. She chuckles as I shake my head, clearing it a little and begin gathering my own things.

My bag feels lighter than it did during school but I shrug it off as I walk home, humming a little tune in my head and feeling in an uncharacteristically cheery mood. Pushing open the front door my eyes immediately lock onto two large cans of paint and a paintbrush and a scribbled hand-written note saying 'Love dad' balancing on the top. I chuckle at my father's antics, grab the cans and head upstairs.

My room is completely bare except for a mattress lying in the middle of the floor and a couple of schoolbooks resting on top of it along with a duvet and two pillows. I change into old clothes, things I won't mind getting dirty, and crack open the tins.

Ashley's house looks as daunting as ever as I slowly approach the drive, clutching the textbooks from English class a little closer to my chest, despite the fact that it is blatantly deserted. Well, almost deserted; Ashley's home alone because her bedroom window is open and there are the faint whisperings of music coming from within. I raise my knuckles and knock gently on the door. It swings open. Yeah, like something out of a horror film when you scream at the person to not step inside the house.

Well, I'm now the idiotic person who does that.

The music is slightly louder in the hall, a faint beat disrupting the stillness of the house. Ashley's school bag lies deserted at the bottom of the stairs.

"Ash?" I call into the silence.

I didn't expect an answered. All situations like this are typically clichéd. I shift uncomfortably from one foot to the other for several minutes, contemplating whether to call back again later. Her family could be home later though, and I'd rather not cross them after…you know…I could just not give her the books, but I know she needs them if any progress is to be made on our assignment…

Gulping rather loudly, I hesitantly raise one foot to the bottom stair and slowly ascend, the music getting gradually louder with each upwards step. Ashley's bedroom door lies open, a strong stench of paint wafting from within.

"Explains the open window," I mumble whilst trying not to choke on the fumes. My eyes lock on to Ashley, prancing around in a pair of faded grey sweatpants and a loose white t-shirt, a baggy hooded black jacket hanging from her shoulders.

I clear my throat in a pathetic attempt to catch her attention, even rap on her door. Call out to her but she fails to hear me above the music which I realise she's singing along to. I fight valiantly against the urge to laugh.

"Taakeee on meee! Taakeee meee on!" The brunette hollers, although the sound isn't exactly unpleasant. The delicate voice is just straining to be heard above the sheer volume of music coming from the speakers nearby, interrupted by light pants of breath as she dances along, and occasionally stretching upwards to glide the paint brush along the wall.

"Ash?" I've managed to walk right into the room now, practically standing behind the brown haired girl before she finally notices me. God, this girl is oblivious. Immediately, Ashley's cheeks turn a delicate pink shade, eyes widening like a deer caught in headlamps or a child caught stealing cookies from the jar. I smirk down at her, before gently picking out some of the white paint which has splattered into her bangs and pulling her hood up over her hair to stop anymore white drops from sprinkling her dark locks, as if it were snowing in this very room.

"Brought your books back," I say after a moments silence. 'Take on me' has ended, leaving the room in eerie silence, as if awaiting to see what will possibly happen before the next song interrupts.

"Th-thanks," the smaller girl stutters, taking the books from my hands and allowing our fingers to brush far longer than necessary.

"Best be off," I turn to go, trying to hide my smile from the girl, "Can't be having Papa Davies finding me trying to corrupt his princess again."

And I'm down the stairs and out the door before she even says "Bye."

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Well thats it for today, i promise i'll not take any elongated breaks without informing you, my lovely readers, first! :D i'll try update as soon as possible but I dont know exactly how soon that will be, I plan a long weekend of partying to celebrate my results and then school starts back relatively soon as well but hey!

Thoughts and opinions always welcome!

Peace.