A Message, Not From the Heart

"Okay. So we've got an invisible skank problem."

"Yeah." You pin your phone between your shoulder and the side of your head as you do a final, futile scan of the edge of the park. This is where the trail of sizzling cat-piss energy vanished, and with it the last traces of Gal-igula. You have no doubt that Rhys and Donna, searching at the opposite end of the park, will have just as little luck. "What do you think we should do next?"

"Hold on, Jenny wants to say something." There's a brief fumbling on the other end, Jenny's voice ringing out a moment later. "Did she really fart on you?!"

You do your best to **** back a sigh. "Yes, Jenny. She also turned into a fucking bat, and can apparently do anything she wants without consequence, but no, you're right. Let's talk about the important stuff."

There is a scuffle on the other side of the call as Isabelle wrestles the phone back. "Sorry Ash, Jenny is very upset over your ordeal and it has temporarily turned her into an asshole."

A faint 'My Bad' warbles in the background as you rub your temples. "Look, why don't we just meet up at Bad Starbucks when your practice ends? We need to get ahead of this before it goes all sideways on us."

Isabelle agrees, but no sooner have her farewells ended then your phone buzzes that it's received a message. Huh. You do not recognize that number. Brow furrowed, you open it.

-Ash, are you ready to talk yet?-

Hrm. There's only one way to delve into a mystery of this magnitude. You craft an expertly pointed response.

-who dis-

Whoever it is on the other end immediately starts typing, then stops, then starts again, then repeats that pattern five more times before finally settling on a rejoinder.

-It is so not fair that you're playing these games with me. I've been really patient with you, and I'd thought we could be adults now. I guess I was wrong?-

Okay. Great. You know exactly who this is. Mystery fucking Solved. You exit out of the chat even as more self-pitying messages start flooding in, scrolling up to select another contact and crack out a furious text.

-Colin, did you give Max my number?-

The message pops up 'Read', followed by a long pause. You've already got, like, eight unread complaints on the other chat. You grit your teeth and send Colin another text.

-Because I deleted myself from his phone for a reason. And that reason is he fucking sucks-

The message pops up 'Read' again, and this time you get two intensely sheepish texts in reply

-o.o;-

-i did not know that-

You groan in annoyance as you peer down at the ever growing wall of texts still piling up the other chat. Maxwell Butler. Ugh, you did not need this right now. A month ago, Max was one of only two people you could sort of call a friend, and even then you weren't entirely a fan. That opinion has not improved in the intervening weeks. To Old Ash, Max was a self-absorbed and frequently domineering faux friend. To New Ash? He's a conniving, gaslighting prick who's absolute refusal to ever get down from his cross is at least fifty percent because of the view it affords him of your tits. Funny how being reborn as a hot girl can really bring to light the inner fuckboy in those around you.

Fuck it. You have too much to deal with that actually matters, and if anything in the world has ever decisively not mattered it's Maxwell Fucking Butler. Cut the asshole off at the knees.

So you open up his overflowing chat, delete all the messages unread, and then click on his number to call him directly. The thirsty fuck answers before the first ring has even finished. "Finally! Ash, you won't regret--"

Oh, you're sure you won't. You don't let him finish that thought. "So hey! Remember how I told you that I'd let you know when I decided if you could have my number again?"

The pregnant pause that follows is deeply satisfying. "....Yes, but I gave you space to--"

"Yeah cool sure. Anyways! You'll be happy to know that I've decided. I decided just now. You don't get to have my number again. Thoughts, concerns? Objections?"

"Ash, I have been your closest friend for years, and the idea that you'll just throw it all away--"

As the self-righteous boy prattles on, the full breadth of his place in your new history is laid bare to you. You keep your voice light and airy, but there is no mistaking the dangerous edge underneath it. "'Closest friend'? Really? Okay, what's up with all the times you tried to turn me against Jenny Park? You know, my actual closest friend?"

"I'm not trying to turn you against her, I'm trying to show you who she really is!"

"Why did you try to convince the boys on the football team that I had the clap?"

"I didn't start that rumor, they did! They think they can treat you like a slut; I know you aren't like that!"

"Why do you constantly take jabs at the music I like and the way I dress?"

He's starting to sound flustered. "I don't, it's not--! Ash, you could be such a cool girl if you could only see that--"

You cut him off, your tone as simultaneously breezy and razor sharp as it's ever been. "At my sixteenth birthday party, someone creeped into the house and stole one of my bras. And one of my mom's bras. It was you, right?"

"........."

"Because we found Mom's on eBay, Mister 'Dream Theater Six Nine Lesser Than Sign Three'. Pro Tip, don't use the same username for everything. So I guess that means you kept mine, huh?"

".........Ashley, I--"

"Hey, you know what? Keep it. It's way too fuckin' small for me now anyway. Consider it your severance package. Well! This was fun! Let's never talk again, sound good?"

You'd intended to stay on the line just long enough to hear him squirm for a moment. "......I know your secret."

Um. "......What?"

"You heard me. Think about that for a while, Ash."

Your throat is suddenly very, very dry. "What do you--"

The call cuts off with a beep, leaving you staring at your phone with a deep sense of foreboding as Donna and Rhys appear from their seemingly fruitless search. The prince begins to say something, then notices your expression. "Ash? What's wrong?"

You finally manage to swallow, slipping your phone back into your pocket. "Nothing. Nothing is wrong."