Love, Alchemy

  Love, Alchemy

  Eden Ashley

  Love, Alchemy

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  About the Author

  Other Works

  Sneak Peek of Dark Siren

  Love, Alchemy is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used factiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2016 by Eden Ashley

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  1

  “Don’t push me.”

  “I saw how you looked at my boyfriend.” The cheerleader stabbed one perfectly manicured finger into her classmate’s chest. “You’re a tramp, Davey.” She ignored the dark look that came across the girl’s face, too snobbish to believe there was any way a reject like Daveigh Little would dare touch her. She was co-captain of the squad, her daddy owned the most successful car dealership in Harpey, South Carolina, and she was the lead in the senior play. The things which made her popular also made her invincible.

  “Did you really think he’d want you? You’re ridiculous.” The cheerleader looked around smugly. Likely sensing the impending fight, students had gathered around to become a crowd of would-be witnesses to Davey’s humiliation.

  “Hey, Jessie, that’s enough. Maybe you should lay off?” Lana, captain of the cheer squad and Jessie’s best friend, looked around nervously.

  Rolling her eyes, Jessie smirked. Lana’s reprimand only served to fuel her hostility toward Davey. “I asked you a question,” she said, thrusting her finger into Davey’s shoulder again. “Did you actually think Kevin wanted a tramp like you?”

  “Touch me again and I will snap your finger in half,” Davey said. Venom dripped from each word.

  Flashing two rows of perfect teeth in a vicious smile, Jessie called what she thought was a bluff and gave Davey another rough jab. As promised, Davey grabbed the cheerleader’s finger and twisted as hard as she could. Everyone close enough heard the unmistakable crunch of bone giving way under pressure. Everyone who heard uttered a collective gasp, and Jessie’s smile became a horrified grimace. She howled in pain.

  “Oh shit,” Lana exclaimed as a sickened expression twisted her features.

  Out of nowhere, the hall monitor and resource officer appeared, seizing both girls by their arms. “That’s enough, you two. Break it up.”

  Clutching her mangled hand, Jessie burst into tears and screamed. “She broke my finger!”

  Taking a moment to examine the disfigured digit, both men turned to Davey. She could see their consideration and subsequent judgment of her pink-streaked hair, dark eyeliner, and ripped jean shorts. “Go see the school nurse,” the hall monitor told Jessie. He pointed to one of the gawking senior football players. “Escort Ms. Sullivan, and make sure she gets there without any more trouble.”

  The resource officer held onto Davey with a none-too-gentle grip. “Come with me,” he ordered and marched her to the principal’s office where Davey was left to wait outside while the rent-a-cop spoke with the principal. Board straight and rock hard, the chairs seemed intentionally designed to deliver the lowest level of comfort possible. Throughout a given school year, Davey’s ass had warmed the seats of those chairs many times. So she knew all too well that after a fifteen-minute wait, a painful limp was unavoidable when the time came to enter Principal Wardlaw’s quarters.

  Henrich Wardlaw, a former Army sniper and two-time divorcee, seemed to get a sort of twisted satisfaction from seeing students walk into his carpeted office with wounded strides. But when the office door opened and Daveigh Little sauntered in for the sixth time this school year, a jolt of disappointment flickered across his stern features. Her last visit had only transpired two days ago, ending with the threat to expel her if she got into any more trouble. If he was shocked because his warning had no effect, she couldn’t blame him.

  “Ms. Little.” With a sigh, Principal Wardlaw, aka “the Ward,” leaned back into his plush leather chair. “Have a seat.”

  Davey sat down again. It was hard to decide if the chairs in the office were worse than the ones outside. Aware of the Ward’s fondness for watching students suffer, she settled quickly. Then Davey folded her arms and waited. Nothing interesting would happen until the idiot resource officer left.

  He stared at Davey for a while, trying and failing to intimidate her. Finally, Ward nodded toward the rent-a-cop. “Mr. Wade tells me that you’ve started another fight—”

  “I didn’t start anything.”

  “…and broke a fellow student’s finger,” Ward continued. “SATs are timed tests, you know. This injury may very well affect Ms. Sullivan’s scores and gravely impact her future.”

  Resisting the urge to roll her eyes, Davey blinked slowly and watched the principal through her long, dark eyelashes with practiced indifference. She said nothing.

  “I warned you. Any more problems and expulsion would be necessary.” He let the threat hang in the air, likely expecting some show of emotion. He really should have known better. “It’s your senior year, Ms. Little,” the Ward finally dragged on. “You are one of the top students in your class, but no college is going to touch you with this kind of record. And now you could quite possibly face charges for assault.” He paused. “Would you like to tell your side of the story?”

  Davey shrugged her slender shoulders. “I’m sure your guy, Wade, has painted you a pretty decent picture.” She noted the Ward’s calculating gaze to the left. Then he said, “That will be all, Mr. Wade. Have your report on my desk by tomorrow afternoon.”

  When the resource officer left, Ward stood and walked to the other side of the large, mahogany desk that took up most of the office. As he pulled a chair next to Davey, she saw his gaze linger over her long legs. Somewhat unsettled, she uncrossed them and regretted the outfit that showcased her lean but well-muscled thighs. Ward leaned forward, allowing his knee to bump hers. Davey steeled herself. She wouldn’t flinch away.

  “Do you understand how serious your situation has become? You’re eighteen years old with graduation only a few months away. High school is hard, but it doesn’t have to be a waste. Don’t ruin the bright future in front of you, kid.” His voice softened. “Daveigh, you have to let someone help you. I want to do that.”

  She moved so her face was inches from his and tried not to sneer. “And how can you help me, Principal Wardlaw?”

  “Your road doesn’t have to end where it’s going, Davey. You could stay in school and graduate with honors.” Sliding his gaze to her thighs again, his eyes eventually returned to her face. The Principal scowled slightly as he considered her hair. The debut of pink streaks hadn’t been popular at home either.

  Clenching her teeth, Davey forced herself to relax and not run away, to remain in the chair. She looked at the Principal. His eyes were full of concern, and something else that made her stomach turn.

  “Do you want my help?”

  She couldn’t get kicked out of school, not when she was so close to finishing and getting the hell outta this town forever. Closing her e
yes, Davey nodded stiffly.

  “Then say it.”

  “I want your help.”

  “Good.” Ward slid his chair back. The space between them was breath of fresh air and Davey felt safe again. Ward folded his arms as he perched behind the huge desk. “You will enroll in after school counseling, twice a week, with student services. I’m giving you one more chance, Davey. Fuck this up and you’re out of my school for good.”

  2

  Davey left Ward’s office and headed straight to the bathroom. Passing the front stalls, she selected one in the rear, flung back the toilet seat and threw up the taco salad she had for lunch. After her stomach heaved until it was empty, she straightened and slammed her fists against the stall, driving one steeled-toed boot into the porcelain bowl and then the other, never saying a word throughout the entire outburst. Her voice was locked behind a wall of despair.

  Hearing a bunch of girl giggles, Davey swung the stall door open. Two freshmen took one look at her face and their laughter died. The pair hurried out without a backward glance. Overhead, the final bell blared a five-minute warning. The last class of the day was about to start. Heading over to the sink, Davey splashed water colder than she could stand onto her face. Then she held her shaking hands beneath the running faucet until they were numb.

  The fight had started years ago. Davey and Jessie had once been inseparable. In a mostly black school, white kids were a minority and typically banded together in small circles. So, blonde haired, blue-eyed Davey, and Jessie with her caramel skin and light brown eyes had made quite an odd pair from the beginning. In middle school, she and Jessie were each other’s dates for all the dances, saw the latest movies together, and had a custom of shopping and ice cream every Sunday. That all changed during the summer of their ninth grade year.

  Davey worked during the summer months, lying on her application to be a year older so she could work full time. Meanwhile, the car dealership owned by Jessie’s dad finally hit its financial stride, and the Sullivan family was suddenly able to afford a totally different lifestyle. Jessie spent the entire summer vacationing in Europe. When she and Davey finally got the chance to reconnect just before the start of the tenth grade, the girls found few common interests to squeal about. Classes began and the small rift grew between them until it was a canyon too wide for any bridge to cross.

  To make matters worse, Jessie’s ten-pound weight loss and two cup boost in bra size earned her a spot on the cheer squad. While overseas, she also discovered a flat iron’s ability to tame her unruly natural curls. New friends like Lana, the beautiful co-captain extraordinaire, came into the mix and Jessie’s social circle quickly evolved to no longer include Davey. Three years later, best friends were worst enemies.

  It almost worried Davey, the spurt of satisfaction she’d felt after breaking Jessie’s finger. Under the wave of pain, the snide cheerleader had disappeared and the old Jessie had returned, if for only the briefest moment. That had been worth it. Maybe breaking every bone in the cheerleader’s body would bring the old Jessie back permanently. No. Davey shook her head clear of the image. Jessie wasn’t the only one who’d changed, so it wasn’t fair to shove all the blame in her corner. Still, Davey could hardly accept how bad things had gotten, and there was no way she’d allow anyone to know.

  Last block was Calculus with a big test scheduled for the following day, but Davey left the restroom and decided to skip the class. Fortunately, Davey was a math whiz, a few points shy of having a genius IQ. She also had a few absences to burn before the end of the school year. Retreating to the library, she randomly grabbed an encyclopedia and picked an empty desk in a dark corner where she sat down to aimlessly read. A few hours later, she stretched, checked her watch and then headed outside.

  In the parking lot, an average-looking redhead stood beside a black GSX, waiting for Davey. The classic sports car was a conditional loan from his father. As long as Palmer didn’t get any girls pregnant until after he’d finished college, the very rare, very expensive 1970 GSX would be his to keep. Palmer tried playing it cool as Davey strolled toward him across the schoolyard, but she could plainly see he was excited to see her. His cheerfulness gradually morphed into annoyance. Davey knew her relaxed manner and leisurely pace frustrated him. Palmer was always complaining that she never acted as happy to be with him as he was to be with her. But Davey had never been good at pretending to be something she wasn’t.

  “Hey, Davey, wait up!”

  She turned around and was somewhat surprised to see Lana jogging across the lawn. Her dark, curly locks bounced with each step as she hurriedly closed the distance between them. When close enough, the co-captain of cheer held out several sheets of notebook paper and shrugged. “Mrs. Frisbee handed out study guides for the exam tomorrow. You probably don’t need them, but I grabbed you a copy anyway.”

  “Thanks,” Davey said slowly and reached out to accept the papers. Despite her social status, Lana had never boasted the same mean streak Jessie showed toward less popular kids. Once during sophomore year, Davey had ignored a thinly guised attempt to cheat off of her answers during a mid-semester exam. Apparently, Lana had been on the precipice of getting kicked off of the squad due to floundering grades. Trouble at home could shake even the most studious honor roll students. After that incident, Lana became especially nice—even going out of her way to make an effort to talk to Davey outside of class. Whether she was motivated by guilt or gratitude, Davey had never really figured it out. Maybe it was a little of both.

  Lana jerked her head toward where Palmer was stilling waiting. Her dark brown eyes displayed puzzlement. “Why didn’t you tell Jessie about him when she was giving you hell about Kevin?”

  “Because it’s none of her business,” Davey answered flatly. She and Jessie had stopped being friends a long time ago. Boy talk was out of the question. Besides, if not about some perceived encroachment upon her sexual conquests, Jessie would undoubtedly find a different reason to hassle Davey.

  “Okay, well…” Lana trailed off. The girl suddenly looked like she wanted to be anywhere else. “I hope you didn’t get suspended.”

  “I didn’t.” Davey blushed. She wasn’t ready to admit she was instead being forced into counseling. Lana was nice enough but Davey wasn’t sure she could be trusted not to tell the entire school about her embarrassing punishment. And if Jessie found out, she would eventually have everyone convinced that Davey was addicted to drugs, a complete psycho, and one freak-out away from the loony bin.

  “Okay,” Lana said again.

  “Okay so…” Davey turned and looked at Palmer. He was growing impatient. “I gotta get going.”

  “Yeah sure.” Lana smiled brightly. She really was a beautiful girl. Strangers who didn’t know any better always mistook her and Jessie for sisters.

  Davey held up the papers. “Thanks again.”

  “No problem,” Lana said and briskly walked away. She was probably late for practice or something.

  After watching her for a thoughtful moment, Davey turned back to Palmer and went to him. When she came near enough, he slipped his arms around her waist and pulled her close. Both hands traveled beneath Davey’s shirt and he kissed her roughly. She leaned into the kiss only because it was expected. Admittedly, there was at least some enjoyment in being held by someone who thought he meant it.

  “Hey, Palmer,” she said when her lips were free. She smiled, flashing the lone dimple in her right cheek. Palmer’s eyes darkened with lust. Leaning in, he kissed her again slowly. “Get in,” he said.

  Palmer was a college guy of average height and lean build. He was also saddled with red hair and a complexion that only freckled and blistered under the sun’s heat. Early on, he seemed to realize that he could score hotter girlfriends if they were in high school. Younger girls (with the exception of Davey) saw a rich guy in a cool car, not failing grades and the fiery temper that should have had him kicked out of college last semester. His father’s position on the board of trustees was cu
rrently the only thing keeping Palmer’s academic future alive.

  But Davey was just as moody and probably just as unstable. And Palmer loved it. Sometimes Davey feared he might even love her. Or at least he thought he did. Taking his eyes away from the road, Palmer looked her over again. His stare honed in on a hint of the black lace bra peeking through her white blouse. He licked his lips. Davey immediately felt like a piece of steak ready to be seared and devoured. She conjured a smile. “Later,” she promised noncommittally. “You got something for me?”

  “Yeah, it’s in the back. There’s a party Thursday night. Think you can get this out to some of your friends?”

  “Those aren’t my friends.”

  “Whatever. Make me proud.” When Davey said nothing, Palmer filled the silence. “Hey why don’t you let me give you a ride? We could go together like a real couple.”

  “Are you still fucking that English professor?” Davey asked. Keeping her voice neutral was somewhat difficult.

  “Yeah, but that’s just for the grade, babe. She means nothing.”

  Davey turned her gaze to the open countryside. “We’re not a real couple, Palmer.”

  Clenching his teeth, Palmer gripped the steering wheel tighter and shoved the pedal to the floor. The engine’s throaty growl built into a roar as the car’s speedometer launched toward triple digits. Trees whipped by faster and faster, but instead of watching the road, Palmer recklessly stared at Davey, practically begging her to challenge him. Especially when he steered the car into the opposite lane, she knew it was just a stupid attempt to get under her skin. In some twisted way, he needed her fear to boost his crazy ego. But Davey never gave him the satisfaction.

  Spotting a police car ahead, she offered a calm warning. “You’re going to get pulled over,” she said.

  Blue lights flashed on as soon as the Buick blew past the patrol car. Kicking up a considerable amount of dust as its tires battled for traction, a black Challenger raced onto the asphalt behind them. At first, Palmer’s foot stuck to the gas pedal, making Davey wonder if she was about to be part of a high speed chase. She enjoyed the thought for a moment and the excitement that came with it. Then the Stage 1 engine abruptly lost throttle as Palmer lost his nerve. Two short bursts of a siren blared behind them. Working his jaw, Palmer pulled over onto the shoulder.