A/N: See? Told you! Updates galore. Here's the next chapter of 'The Fight'. R&R porfavor.
A/N2: Also, the italics in the story lines are the character's subconscious, something like their conscience. Basically, the characters are talking to themselves. S'weird. I know. Go with it.
A/N3: Also Again, there is a lot of actual monologue in this chapter. Sorry.
Disclaimer: Tom Lynch owns 'em cuz he's wicked cool. That is all.
No, no, no, no, no! She wasn't supposed to hear that poem! I didn't know we'd have to read them in class! I can't take this, I saw the look on her face. I know she doesn't want this either. Why am I putting myself through this? Why am I putting both of us through this? Why can't I just admit she was right, I know she is, I just…I don't want to accept it. She couldn't be right, there's just no way.
I couldn't tell if it was my own suddenly self-imposed anger or embarrassment or sadness, but somehow, my feet ran me all the way home. I almost slammed into the front door. But I didn't. I reached it, turned around and slid down the frame, tears streaked across my cheeks. How could she have done this? How could she have this to us? Why couldn't she just let sleeping dogs lay? Because she cares about you. No, if she did care about me, she wouldn't have said those things. But they were the truth. She was only telling you because she cares about you and doesn't want to see you hurt. Too late for that. But this hurt, this is your fault. You decided to take what she told you this way. No. It's her fault. No it's not.
I didn't know how long I had been sitting on the stoop. It didn't really matter, no one came home. Glen was probably somewhere knocking up Madison. Clay was probably somewhere arguing with Sean. Mom is probably sucking face with Dr. Homewrecker and Dad is probably still at the office working himself to the bone so he can pretend the problems he's having with mom aren't affecting him.
Must've been a while. Before I knew it, a regrettably familiar Porsche Cayenne pulled up into the driveway. And she stepped out. She is coming to talk to me. I know she is. I want to get up and run. I don't want to be here. I want to be anywhere but here. What if she's coming to laugh at how pathetic my poem made me? No, I can't handle that. I can't. My feet finally made to move and I was up and opening the door before I was even having a coherent thought. My coherent thought was a hard one to decipher. Run.
My fear must've been written all over my face because before I even got halfway through the door frame, she caught me by my elbow.
"Don't run." Don't run? What does she expect? That I'm just going to sit here and let her ruin my life some more? "Please, don't run Spence."
Suddenly, everything stopped and I turned around to meet the sad, withdrawn look that had dawned on her features. "Why?" The ice in my voice made even me question if I had really said that.
But she wasn't deterred that easily. "I need to talk to you. I need you to hear me."
"It always was about you wasn't it." Wow. Maybe I could pageant for Ice Princess.
There was that look again. The one that looked like she'd just been slapped.
"This wasn't –isn't- about me and you know it." She replied calmly, sounding almost as though she were holding back tears. I almost felt sorry for being as harsh as I knew I was being.
As in. Not. I didn't. And I was about to let her know.
"Really? Interesting. Maybe you'd care to explain."
"Spence, please, I just want to talk to—"
Okay, now. Now I was gonna let it all out. All my frustrations and sadness, it was all channeled into my anger.
"TALK? YOU WANT TO TALK? OKAY, LET'S TALK." I knew we were still outside in broad daylight, but somehow, that didn't faze me. She wanted to talk to me, we were gonna talk. Wait, scratch that. I was gonna talk and she was gonna listen.
"Let's talk about how you ruined it. How you ruined us. You couldn't just let sleeping dogs lie could you? No, you had to go and ripple the water, didn't you? You weren't getting enough attention and that was just a ploy for it wasn't it? You thought that I'd come running straight into your arms and you'd just hold me, didn't you? This was how you were going to get us together weren't you? It was all just part of some sick plan, wasn't it? You don't even really care about me, do you?"
Well, if she was sad before, she sure as hell wasn't now. She looked as though she was shaking…with anger. Good. I want her to feel angry. I want her to feel as angry as I am and I want her to know that she is the reason. She was the cause. That it is her fault.
Apparently, she had other plans.
So this is what she thinks, huh? But, of course, I should have seen this coming. Of course she wouldn't believe me; it went against everything she believed in. Against everything she grew up with. Stupid of me to think that, as her best friend and supposed closest confidant, she'd actually believe me. No. Of course she'd think it was all just a ploy to get in her pants. Because I'm Ashley. The girl her mother despises with all the love she has for the devil himself.
Honestly, I should have seen this coming. Why I didn't is beyond me. Maybe I'd just hoped she'd not take it the way she did. Maybe I did think she'd run into my arms, that maybe I could hold her. It certainly wasn't why I told her. I told her because she's my best friend. Because I care about her. Because I care about her more than I've ever cared about anyone in my entire life and we not even together. I don't know. I don't know what I was thinking.
That's a lie.
I know exactly what I was thinking.
And I don't regret it. Not at all.
"So that's what you think? Is that really what you think?" I asked her, finally leveling her glare with one of my own.
I saw her wince under the intensity of my eyes boring into hers. Leaving her vulnerable as I had been. But it was only for a second. Then she was back to 'angry Spencer'. Like I'd let this continue.
The hell I was.
Then there was shock.
"You heard me. I said shut up. You're going to listen to me now."
She just looked at me. Well, actually glared at me for a whole five seconds before she took a step back and tried to slam the door. Hell no. I was at the door in a heartbeat. Just in time to have the door smash my foot with all the anger coursing through Spencer's small body, which apparently is pretty damn strong.
"FUCK!" I howled at the top of my lungs. It must've taken her a couple of seconds to realize what happened because when she did, everything changed.
"Ashley, oh my god, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. What did I do? Are you ok? Is you're foot okay? Can you move it? Is there any feeling? Oh my god, I'm so sorry Ashley!"
And to think, all I had to do was seriously injure myself and I get more out of her in five seconds flat, than I have in and week and a half.
"Spencer. Ice NOW." I demanded as calmly as I could through clenched teeth. I didn't exactly want to talk to have to talk to her like I had been, but damn it, I was in some kind of pain.
"Oh, right! Come on, lean on me and we'll hop you into the living room."
I did and she led me into the oh-so-comforting and, yet, nerve wracking living room in casa de Carlin. Fuck, I could feel it swelling. Was it bleeding? Shit. My mother was not going to like this. Spence sat me down on the couch and elevated my foot, then ran, probably the fastest I've ever seen her run, into the kitchen. Probably for ice. I was right. A second later, she was back in the room with me, carrying a big bag of ice while cradling the phone between her shoulder and her ear.
"Yes, sir, I realize slamming the door on her foot was not the responsible thing to do---Why I did it should not be relevant---WHETHER I AM OR NOT IS NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS, SIR, SEND THE DAMN AMBULANCE." And then she hung up.
"Fuckin' dumbass." She mumbled.
I have to admit, calling an ambulance is not what I expected, but, truth be told, the cussing surprised me more. Calling an ambulance is the good citizen/Christian thing to do, but cussing that certainly isn't. Especially for Spencer. She sat down next to my foot and gently guided my foot from the table, where it had been slowly swelling painfully, to her lap where she had laid a couch cushion. She put the ice on my foot, presumably to try and reduce the swelling. I hissed painfully at the frigid touch, today was not a good day to be wearing my converse. She looked up at me with regretful eyes. I almost forgave her.
"God, Ash, I'm sorry. This is all my fault."
Damn straight it is. If you hadn't been so damn stubborn and listened to me, we wouldn't be in this situation.
"Don't worry about it. It'll heal. Eventually."
I don't hate you. I could never hate you. I'm just really, really, really pissed off.
"Not just about you're foot. I'm sor—"
"Don't. Stop. I don't want to discuss this right now."
She looked down, dejected. Good. Shut up. You feel bad. Stop being a bitch.
"Sorry, just…let's not concentrate on that right now, we'll talk later. When is the ambulance getting here?" I asked, a bit nicer than I had been.
"Soon, that was them on the phone."
"Really? I had no idea." I said in a friendly, sarcastic voice.
"Haha, such a comedian. Shut up." Then she smiled, it was a small smile, but I knew the hope I saw in her eyes was the same kind that she saw in mine.
Then reality came crashing down and another painful pulse made me painfully aware that my foot was still seriously screwed over.
"Fuck this is my driving foot too."
"I'll drive you where ever you need to be." She offered.
"Well, this is my fault…"
"Oh." Here I thought it was because you were my best friend.
"…and you kinda are my best friend."
Damn mind readers.
"Are we?" I want to know.
"Yeah, well, if you want, I mean." She answered tentatively.
"Of course I want!" I tried to leap up. Fucking foot.
"FUCK!" I shouted as the pain returned full force.
"Whoa! Hey! Don't get too worked up, you need to relax until the ambulance gets here.
Just then there was a knock at the door.
"Speak of the devil." She said dryly.
She got up to answer the door and they came barging in.
"You the one with the hurt foot?" Idiot examiner #1 asked gruffly.
"What do you think." I replied.
"Don't give me an attitude."
I was feeling rebellious.
"Just get on the stretcher."
"Oh sure, let me just get up and walk over to it."
Idiot Examiner #1 nudged Idiot Examiner #2 and they came over and, it might've just been me but I doubt it, picked me up…let's just say, less than appropriately. Whatever, I'll have these shit heads fired before they blink an eye. But right now, I need to see a doctor. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Spencer fuming at the way the guys were treating me, and I knew she'd have a talk with 'mommy dearest' about it, but I could also see that she knew I needed to be at the hospital now more than complaining. What do you know, even the thought of 'mother superior' leaves a bad taste in my mouth.
One of the guys turned around to Spencer as they were loading me into the ambulance and asked her if she was coming. She seemed to snap out of whatever world she had been in and quickly confirmed that she was. She climbed into the bus next to me and held my hand. I looked over at her and smiled. Thanks.
A/N: There ya go, Happy? I hope so. Lemme know. I'm kinda hoping for at least 25 reviews before I continue, please and thanks. And if you're following me as an author in general (as in, reading all my stories) then fear not, I'm planning on updating all soon!