Flame & Stone (Complete, Book 2 of the Duet Coming Soon)

Avery  Let me think back to a time when Toby f*****g Montgomery wasn't the most obnoxious boy I'd ever met. Oh wait, I can't. 6th-grade science project when he "accidentally" kicked my volcano over moments before being judged. Mmhmm yeah. 9th grade when we were partnered in Latin to do a derivates project and he just ghosted me, 10th grade hitting me in the face with a volleyball on picture day, or last year when he had the audacity to ask me to junior prom as a joke. Even in grade school, all my memories were of him pulling my hair or pushing me off the jungle gym. I know what your thinking, oooh he has a crush. I can already hear it in your tone and no. He. Does. Not. All he has is an affinity for torture and an ego the size of Jupiter. Toby has dated the same girl for like all of time. Sarah Gallagher, blonde hair, blue eyes, big boobs, fake tan, and a handful of brain cells to really sell the bimbo persona. She is the Barbie to his Ken. They took a break during junior and senior year to focus on "college prep" or at least that was the excuse he gave me when he asked me to prom. But let's be real she still hangs all over him and after the embarrassing video Sarah posted of me on t****k with hashtags #downgrade #promjoke #never and then they subsequently attended that prom together. They are just a couple of douche peas in a pod. For the most part, I didn't let them phase me. High school wasn't going to be the highlight of my life, the pinnacle of my existence. That's right Barbie, I'm not going to peak in high school. I am meant for bigger and better things. I knew it and I assumed that everyone else here knew it. To add fuel to the fire- academically, Toby, unfortunately was my only intellectual match. We often went toe to toe, our teachers and counselors encouraging the healthy competition. Claiming we "challenged" each other. He could challenge my foot up his ass. Stupid perfect SAT scores. Frecking d**k muncher. Whatever it didn't matter, but watching his smug face walk across this stage accepting an award he doesn't deserve is only one of the many things irritating me right now. Just a bit of salt to my wounds. Just give him his diploma!! I internally screamed. He doesn't need special acknowledgement three times, no one has time for this. Especially not me. It's hot, hotter than balls. Because of this, the person next to me, Jonathan Yates smells like he forgot deodorant and because he is a teenage boy, he probably hasn't showered for the past week. Hygiene must be something men grow into, if they ever do, so gross. You know what else is driving me mad? This! I picked at the hem of my graduation gown, then started using it to fan between my thighs. Christ its hot. This nylon graduation gown is tearing up my skin where the harsh seams are rubbing against my sensitive flesh. I managed to rip off the paper tag that was causing me the most grief but I am still so aware of each coarse seam gnawing at me. f**k, why is this stupid ceremony still going on! While we are at it, you know what else is stupid, my last name. I am a York, meaning in my class of 487. I will be the last to walk across and accept my diploma. York probably isn't even my real last name. Cool, its not like it's the hottest day ever recorded or anything and I get to be punished with some fake last name. I love the heat, yup. Just love it, so hot and sticky, just great. I turned around scanning the crowd for my people. There they are, giving me double thumbs up- Nicole and Frankie. I rolled my eyes. I bet I look like a tomato. Unfortunately, I am one of those people who when I get hot, my cheeks flush. It's because I have such a fair complexion. For living in California, you'd think I'd tan, maybe a spring glow could hide some of the flaring redness on my chest, cheeks, and ears. But no, I am practically translucent, ok that may be an exaggeration.  I open my gown to see the splotchy redness across my chest. Cute. My flushed cheeks will make for beautiful photographs, just add it to the collection of embarrassing high school photos. I give them an eye roll and a thumbs up and turn around to slouch deeper into my seat. This will be over soon. I repeat to myself. Really, the only solace I get from the entire day is knowing, that I am done with high school after this and in 2 weeks I will move cross country. I will likely see none of these people again. I am purely delighted. Not that anyone was particularly horrible to me. Outside of Ken and Barbie. It's more or less that I just never felt like I belonged. I was an orphan of sorts. My biological parents shrouded in mystery. But from what I gathered, there wasn't some grand story behind them, more than likely- drunks or addicts. Nicole, my guardian and for all intents and purposes, mom in my book, found me on her doorstep. Yup. Her brother, had left me in a basket with a birth certificate and a note to look after me. The name given to me on that birth certificate was Avery Doe (I will give you one guess, what my moms name was listed as) Did you guess Jane Doe? If not, you should probably read more. Anyway, when my birth certificate abroad and social security card arrived a few months later, Avery York was the name listed. The attending doctor on my original hospital records was Dr. York. Very sus, right? I loved Nicole, but I often wondered about Jane Doe and Dr. York. I wondered about the people who made me and what led them to deposit me at a young girls door. During my freshman year, after I had convinced Nicole to do genetic testing. Not because I really wanted to but because I had been assigned a family tree project. Which by the way Mrs. Koko when your adopted, mandatory family tree assignments are awful, seriously. So yeah, anyway fake name, orphan baby, born in Ireland supposedly and surprisingly enough, not George's daughter. Talk about a shocker when Nicole and I got the results back and we were not related at all. She had been raising me for 14 years at that point, thinking I was her brother's mistake but nope, just a stranger's mistake delivered to her doorstep by her brother. Luckily at that point, she liked me enough to keep me. Not many people knew Nicole wasn't my biological mom, we sort of looked alike. Long dark hair, fair complexion, same tall frame. She was only 19 when George had dropped me off, people often confusing us as sisters. She had moved to California after a distant cousin left her a bar, O'Sullivans. I am sure the entire town judged her as some reckless, wild child, having a baby so young. *eye roll* What they didn't know is she was a f*****g boss, she ran a bar, she didn't take s**t from anyone and she worked her ass off to provide for me. I'd be ever f*****g grateful for the life she gave me and while she didn't have the reservations about being a good parent that most parents have. She was a damn good role model and taught what really mattered in life, it wasn't how many likes my i********: post had or whether or not I held a designer bag. Which seemed to be all the girls around here cared about. No, not Nicole, she taught me the real s**t, stuff to keep you alive and safe. I was business savvy, street smart, book smart, trained in defense, knew how to shoot a gun and handle knives. As a role model she taught me empathy and compassion, how to handle stress and make decisions. She was a creative thinker, schemer if you will and she used her life experiences to prepare me. She exposed me to all sorts of people and pushed me to push myself. If you ask me, being orphaned was probably the best thing that could have happened to me. Conner Smith. I heard them call. f*****g Christ, we are still in the S's. I turned back to look at Nicole. I wanted her to see how miserable I was. Making a face at her indicating I was dying. Grabbing at my face pulling it down in despair, she just smiled and waved. Nicole was the one responsible for getting me here, they could have just as easily mailed my diploma. "It's a rite of passage." Her words echoed in my brain. Forcing me through out the years to go to birthday parties, take photos, go to prom, take real senior pictures. All of it she claimed as a rite of passage. Sitting through this three-hour graduation ceremony... I look at my watch, a four-hour graduation ceremony. Some f*****g rite of passage, am I right? She is also the one insisting I go to some parties tonight. It was either go to one or she would host one. She said she was willing to send out invitations to my entire graduating class, she would host it at the bar and offer free drinks ensuring that at least somebody would show up. I opted for the annual bonfire beach party that every graduating class had. While it was technically hosted by the Montgomery's at their beach property. The party was a tradition for all graduating seniors, I figured the crowd would be big enough, to sneak in, get access to the private beach, avoid socialization and maybe swim in the pacific one last time before I head cross country. Check that rite of passage off the list. It was the least I could do for Nicole. Avery York. f*****g Finally. I don't know what I expected to feel when I grabbed my diploma and shook hands with Principal Snyder, a sense of accomplishment, a sigh of relief? All I felt was the breeze running underneath my gown, as I walked across the stage and it felt great. What a brief moment of relief. The moment I walked off the stage, I unzipped the gown, slid it off my shoulders and began to tent it out and air myself out. I didn't care how many people were watching. "Avery!" Toby was walking toward me sticking out his hand. I knew it was time for his valedictorian speech. In years past the salutatorian got to speak at graduation, but we had a guest speaker. The governor of the state. That's right. The governor of California took my spot. Who was I to argue? I got these cool honor cords. "It was a tough race till the very end, thank you for driving me to be the best version of myself." Toby's palm was sweaty and he was clearly trying out his future political handshake, too firm, too long, and too clammy. His voice and statement rehearsed, robotic almost. "Oh, we were competing? I wish someone would have told me." I smiled then pulled my hand away, wiping it against the gown. "Good luck up there." Rolling my eyes the minute he was to my back.