Ned Gets Stood Up

Chapter Twenty-One

MARGARET

In Margaret's life, she's had the opportunity to make a handful of boys cry. The first to her memory was Riley Hopper, who she punched in the mouth after he said her drawing of a cat looked like a giant booger. She asked him to stop, but he continued to sing and yell "Booger" over and over again in her face.

So, she punched him.

And that shut him up.

Sent home from first grade, Margaret was told by multiple people that violence wasn't the answer. However, in this moment, fighting the December cold in high heels, Margaret only had murder on the brain. She'd kill Ned first because this all started with him. She'd kill Sam next because he was annoying the hell out of her today.

Then, she'd have to kill all nearby witnesses.

Her finale was to murder her parents.

What did she have to do to get notice by her family? How were they supposed to remember her existence without her doing something as bad as Sam? Maybe that was key. She needed to burn her house down or something. They'd think about her a whole lot after that.

A car honked, but Margaret didn't flinch. After years of boys honking at her in the school parking lot, she steeled herself against cat calling, boys honking, and whistling. She knew how to appear indifferent. Her middle finger still itched to say hello though.

Stomping the sidewalk, Margaret just crossed her arms and ignored the car as it slowed and pulled up beside her to park. Margaret reached for the purse no longer on her hip and shakily sighed. Left with nothing, especially not her pepper spray, Margaret spotted the closest house and calculated how quickly she could take her heels off in order to run the fastest. She also debated if it'd save time to keep wearing them and just run.

"Hey, Maggie!"

Margaret stopped.

She recognized that voice.

Brow furrowing, Margaret glanced around and saw none other than the John Flowers walking towards her. Everything inside of Margaret screeched. She froze. Eyes nearly popping out of her skull. The Flowers were built taller than weeds. Too tall, in Margaret's opinion. His dark hair had grown out slightly, all thick and tussled and not on purpose. He was all shoulders. All dark honey eyes and a crinkle to them when he smiled.

"Maggie! I can't believe it's you!"

He had that sounded so disgustingly sincere like an animated golden retriever. She hated him and wished he wasn't standing in front of her right now outside of her dreams where he normally stayed put. Maybe she should throw something at him.

"I passed you a few minutes ago and couldn't believe it, but I'd recognize your hair anywhere," John said, a laugh hanging off the side of his mouth and suddenly, a little warmth returned to Margaret, pooling inside her chest. "So, I had to turn around."

Margaret Hayes was suddenly extremely aware of the level of frizz in her hair. She could feel every wild stray hair moving in the wind. Her eyes trained on John, Margaret ripped the scrunchie from her arm and started compiling it into a bun on top of her head as he kept talking, "My parents were supposed to pick me up from the airport, but I couldn't get a hold of them or Ned, so I had to get an Uber that was like all my lunch money for next semester. Then, then—"

John walked closer to join Margaret, taking the side closer to the road, and Margaret was attacked by his nice clean smell. Not the usual horrific stink of body spray. John smelled like almost nothing, which was somehow worse, and his hair was clean, and he was tall and there were no stains on his sweater. Margaret swallowed uncomfortably, tightening her scrunchie to the point of getting a headache. A permanent scowl had screwed into her face.