Saturday went by faster than I expected, as did Sunday. Daphne came over Saturday afternoon, and she and I baked cookies while Ash worked on his motorcycle with Dave. Then we all hung out on the deck, eating cookies and telling stories—my favorite being Daphne's tale of how she'd put a frog down her teacher's shirt in middle school.

Dave and Daphne left around the same time—something like 3:30 PM. Then I followed suit and went home before things could get awkward. I heard nothing more of Dave and Ash's conversation that day, but thoughts of it did occupy my mind periodically over the weekend.

It was especially difficult to fall asleep with these thoughts running through my brain endlessly. I just couldn't put my finger on what the boys had been getting at. One minute they had been talking about Dave's crush on Britt—which was shocking enough in itself—and the next minute they were discussing something about some girl Ashton knew. Some girl that he liked?

And then there was the whole can of worms that was Josh Presley. The boys had talked about him like they didn't trust him for whatever reason. The whole thing was just weird.

But that wasn't even the main issue. The fact that Britt and I had fought and not made up was truly what kept me up past three on Sunday morning. I wasn't sure how I managed to wake up that morning, but I did; and, at least for the day, Ashton's presence was enough to distract me from obsessing over my argument with Britt.

When Sunday came to an end, I drove home, stressed a minimal amount, evaded an interrogation from my parents (no doubt concerning Ashton), and crashed in my bed. Before I knew it, I was opening my eyes early Monday morning. Now was the hard part.

As I stumbled into school clothes and forced some breakfast down, I assessed today's situation. I was going to have to see Britt. Ordinarily, seeing my best friend was a positive thing. But today was different. We were legitimately mad at each other—for the first time in months, maybe even years.

Britt was being ridiculous, and I didn't feel like spending my time with someone who insisted on dating Josh Presley. Was I being unfair? Probably. But after what she'd said about Ashton's "mommy issues," I was about done with what she had to say.

And yet...she was my best friend. Whatever bond I shared with her should be strong enough to not be broken over such a thing as this. That did not reduce my fear, for this was the first time we had really, really fought. We always got along, so why now?

What was it about Ashton and Joshua that had messed with us so much? Or had this been brewing since before we'd ever met the boys?

It was probably no use pondering this, though. My main worry now consisted of my inevitable walk past the park. Surely Britt wouldn't wait there for me, but what if we ran into each other?

As I ran an anxious hand through my hair, I contemplated the idea of just not going to school at all. But that was horrid idea—and one that certainly would not go without punishment.

It was barely past 8:30 in the morning, and I could already tell this day was going to be less than enjoyable. That is, until I heard a sound on the street—and then a sound on my driveway. Hardly believing my ears, I pulled back the curtains in the living room and peered outside.

No stupid way.

There, in the middle of my driveway, Ashton Savvonski brought his motorcycle to a stop. It was not the motorcycle I had ridden on, though. It was the Triumph Bonneville that he had been working on for the past few weeks. The last time I'd seen it, it had still been in rusted pieces. But now it stood proudly on my driveway, not a dent in sight. Ash had added the front wheel and tire, repaired the frame, and fixed whatever nicks it had before. Now it seemed to almost shine.

My eyes shifted from the bike to Ashton. He was currently removing his helmet and dismounting his bike, so I forced myself to leap away from the window before he could catch my staring.

After a second of debating with myself, I realized that it didn't matter if he saw me or not. What do I have to hide?

Grabbing my backpack and shoes, I ran to the front door. I opened the door before Ashton had the chance to knock. He grinned as soon as he saw me. So maybe this day does have a chance.

"Morning, Maine."

"Hello, Ashton." I said it far too formally, but it didn't seem to matter to him.

He just reached out wordlessly and grabbed my hand, pulling me out the door. Surprised but compliant, I followed him as we made our way to his motorcycle. I could tell he was excited, and that excitement was so contagious that I smiled with him.

When we came to a stop in front of his bike, I exclaimed, "You finished it!"

He grinned. "How does she look?"

"Awesome!" I could hardly stop myself from beaming ear to ear. "I didn't know you were so close to finishing her!"

"Long hours," he said with a shrug, but I could see the pride in his eyes.

"Nice work," I complimented, giving the bike another admiring once over.

Ash responded by handing me the other helmet. "Want a ride to school?" he said.

I didn't need any more encouragement. In a minute I was on the bike behind him, and he was switching the engine on. The healthy rumble of the Bonneville's repaired engine brought another smile to my lips.

Ashton had put so much work into the bike—it was rewarding to see the finished result. A complimentary ride was nothing to complain about either. Ash drove back down the driveway and into the street. Then he accelerated, and I enjoyed the feeling of power underneath me a lot more than I would have admitted. Since when had I become a motorcycle girl?

Sadly, the ride only lasted a few minutes, and we were soon speeding into the school parking lot. Even without looking around, I could feel the eyes of countless teenagers—and teachers—trained on my back as Ash pulled into a parking spot and cut the engine.

I hadn't stopped to think about how people might react if I rode to school on the back of Ashton's bike. If I had, I probably wouldn't have done it.

Feeling nervous jitters in my bones, I slowly removed my helmet and handed it back to Ash before furtively glancing around. Sure enough, at least five different groups of students were staring at us. Wincing, I carefully slid off Ashton's bike and muttered to him, "Do they always stare at you like this?"

He climbed off his bike and looked around as if he were surprised by our audience. Then, shooting me a look of amusement, he replied, "Yeah. You used to do it too."

I looked at him in surprise. "What?" The problem was that it was true. "What makes you think that?"

Mischief in his eyes, he ducked his head close to mine before saying, "Don't act surprised. I've seen you do it."

That made me feel somewhat self-conscious, even betrayed, in a way. "I thought—but how? You never even looked at me."

He smirked as we began walking toward the school entrance. "Yeah, I looked at you. You just didn't notice."

"But—" Before I could form a coherent sentence, his smirk broadened and he reached out to ruffle my hair.

"Rude," I muttered, running a hand through my hair to fix it. Then I made the mistake of glancing to my right. Amid the mingling masses of both jealous and casual onlookers stood Joshua Presley and his new sidekick.

It only took a moment to make a thorough assessment of my friend. I saw from afar that she looked even more different today than she had last week. She was pressed up against Josh's side, and her bizarrely painted face was made almost ugly by her icy glare. That glare was directed at me and Ash.

Shivering somewhat at the pain that her stare inflicted upon my heart, I ripped my gaze from her and quickened my pace. Ashton didn't ask. He just pushed the door open for me, and we entered the school building. I was so incredibly thankful just for his presence right now, even despite the audience that it gathered. However, I was quickly forced to part ways with him as I headed to my first class.

It was around third hour that things started to get weird. And that was saying something, considering that this day had been a bit weird to begin with. So what was it that had my hair standing on end as I made my way down the hall to my locker?

It was the stares. All the many, many stares. I had understood the stares this morning, but right now they were completely uncalled for. Ashton was nowhere in sight, so why was everyone giving me looks of either death or curiosity? And what were they whispering amongst themselves about?

By the time I reached my locker, I was beyond befuddled. There was no one to contemplate it with, either, for my best friend was probably shoved up against some locker, making out with her boyfriend. I frowned at the thought.

I forced my attention to my locker as I opened it and shoved my chemistry books inside. I could still feel numerous eyes digging holes in my back, but I tried to ignore them as best I could. Ducking my head low, I headed toward the lunch room, all the while praying that the reason for the stares was not something spiteful toward me. Instinct told me that it most definitely was.

And instinct was right, as usual.

I had barely stepped across the threshold of the cafeteria, when a shout rang out across the room. "There she is!"

"Who?" Another voice called.

A third voice answered, "The whore in the picture!"

My eyes widening, I looked around frantically to see whom everyone was talking about. I saw the picture before that question was even answered—and then the question was answered. Blown up on a poster on the far wall of the cafeteria was a picture that I recognized almost immediately. I'd never actually seen the picture before, but that didn't matter—not when I was the girl in the picture.

Someone bumped into me from behind, but I was too distracted to even turn. A familiar voice fell on my ears. "Sorry! I didn't mean to—" But it only took Ashton a second to stop talking, and I knew exactly why.

It was the picture from the carnival—the picture from the Ferris wheel. It was the picture that showed us standing in each other's arms, our faces mere inches apart. Sure, Ash and I knew what was really going on in the picture, but to anyone else, it looked as if we were about to kiss.

Specifically, it was not the kind of picture that one wanted to be broadcasted in front of the entire school. And yet, here it was. I dimly wondered why not even the lunch ladies had taken the poster down, but I realized it didn't even matter anymore. The damage had already been done.

Everyone in the cafeteria knew that as well. One boy stood up on his seat and shouted, "Ashton's dating a loser!"

A girl across the room also jumped up on her chair then and yelled, "I told you guys Ashton's into some weird ish!"

"What about the nerd?" another guy called out from his seat. "She's into some weird ish! I didn't know nerds messed around with delinquents." My jaw dropped.

The boy's words seemed to rile up a whole slew of differing opinions, and soon several people were shouting crude things across the room at each other. All I could do was stand there, horrified. Not even the lunch ladies seemed to be trying to stop the disturbance. They just stood there, dead eyes staring out into the masses.

Ashton was not satisfied.

About thirty seconds into it, he stepped around me and marched down the main aisle, heading straight for the poster. Before Ash could reach it, however, Brad Penton—the boy he had gotten into a fight with a few weeks back—jumped in front of him, blocking his path.

Brad was grinning like a devil, far too pleased about the trouble that had befallen Ashton. Leering, Brad grabbed Ashton by the collar of his shirt and spoke loudly so that his words could be heard over the clamor. "What's this I see? I thought you weren't good enough for a girl like that. Isn't that what you said? That she was too good to mess with? Are you a liar, Savvonski?"

Before I had even processed Brad's words, Ashton was retaliating. Bringing his hands up, he easily ripped Brad's hands from his collar and shoved him back. Then, in an equally loud voice, he shouted, "Yes! Yes, I'm a liar. But I have never in my life messed around with Maine Eilerts, so don't you dare accuse me—or her—of that! Do you understand, you disgusting, good-for-nothing—"

"That's enough!" An even louder voice rang out across what seemed the entire cafeteria. All heads turned to Mr. Hardy, who was striding angrily toward the two boys. I almost breathed a sigh of relief, until I realized that Ash could get in trouble for this. Biting my lip, I considered stepping in, but I knew that would only complicate things.

Besides, Mr. Hardy ended up surprising me anyway. He must have been feeling more gracious today than past times, for he merely stepped between Ash and Brad and said in a grave manner, "If I hear you two yell one more time, it's detention for the rest of the week. Is that understood?"

Ash seemed to understand that Mr. Hardy was letting them off easily, so he shut his mouth almost immediately. Brad, on the other hand, was still too puffed up about catching Ashton in a fix. "No need, Hardy," he said, that mad smirk still etched on his face. "I'm just putting Ashton here in his place."

It was then that the principal managed to shock every student in the room who was in hearing distance. Placing a hand on Brad's shoulder, he looked the boy in the eye and said, "No, Penton. I believe he was putting you in yours."

Silence fell. In response to the hush, Mr. Hardy looked around at the awed students before letting out a short, humorless laugh. "Get back to eating!" he snapped then. "Your next class is in ten minutes!"

With a huff, he made his exit. And just like that, the battle was over—but the war was not. Most of the students returned to their own business, but Brad, looking somewhat more vengeful now, leaned closer to Ash and said something that was too quiet for my ears to capture. It seemed to infuriate Ash more than any of Brad's previous words, and I briefly wondered how hard it was for Ash to refrain from punching the other boy. Instead of punching him, Ash muttered something back to Brad before shoving past him and finishing his walk to the poster.

I'd almost forgotten about the poster, even though it was practically staring at me. It wouldn't be staring for much longer. That was made apparent when Ashton reached up and tore it from the wall. Turning to face the students who dared to look him in the eye, he held the poster up and shook it somewhat before abruptly crumpling it into a ball and throwing it toward the nearest trash can. He said nothing—no doubt to avoid detention—but his silence seemed to have more of an effect anyway. Most heads guiltily turned back to their tables.

I actually did breathe a sigh of relief then, but I realized that there were still some curious eyes on me, so I ducked my head and moved to the lunch line, hoping to get some food before my ten minutes were up. Ashton joined me a second later, and, although I knew our proximity would only stem more suspicion, I made no move to distance myself from him. At the moment, I felt as if he were the only person on my side. The words of some of my classmates still screamed in my head, stinging my heart and making my blood boil. How could they say such things about something they didn't know anything about?

But they thought they knew. According to their own understanding, they were as knowledgeable as anyone on the matter. And that was the power of a rumor. It could turn no one's business into everyone's business. It could forever tarnish someone's reputation. It could even turn a lie into a truth.

Deep in thought, I was surprised when a hand touched my elbow. I jumped slightly before glancing back at Ashton. He raised his eyebrows and almost appeared amused, but now was not the time for amusement, so he didn't smile. Instead, he just nodded his head toward table at the far end of the cafeteria. Dave was the only person sitting there at the moment.

Somewhat surprised that he wanted me to eat with him, I hesitated, but when Ash said, "Come on," I shrugged my shoulders and followed him to the table. Dave looked up as we approached, and he offered us a grim smile. Ash and I sat down next to each other, and I was relieved that our backs were facing the rest of the cafeteria. I'd rather have people staring at my back than my face.

Dave was the first to point out the obvious. "No offense, but you guys are only making this worse by sitting together."

Ash shot him a look before saying, "And what's the alternative?"

Dave looked as if he wanted to say more, but he just sighed and turned his focus to his half-eaten sandwich.

I spoke then. "Sorry."

Both boys shot me looks, but it was Ash who answered me. "Don't apologize, Maine. This wasn't your fault." Dave nodded in agreement.

Frowning at them, I muttered, "Then whose fault is it?" Before they could answer, I shook my head and tried to change the subject. "Where's Josh?"

"Where's Britt?" Ash asked, but I got the feeling the question was meant to answer itself.

Dave must have too, for he bit into his sandwich somewhat too aggressively. It would have been funny, save for the fact that Britt was not someone I wanted to be off somewhere with Josh. Then again, with the way she was acting, she might as well spend all her time with him.

Dave interrupted my down spiraling thoughts by doing a subject change of his own. "So I know you guys aren't dating or anything," he began, giving Ash and me calculating looks, "but I can't help but be curious. What is the deal with that Ferris wheel picture?"

Choking on the water I had been drinking, I had to wave the question toward Ashton. No way was I opening my mouth. Ash did not appear all that excited to answer it either, but he did so anyway. First he swore under his breath, but then he explained, "There was something wrong with our car, and Maine fell out of her seat, so I caught her. It was just an automatic reaction. Sheesh, it's not like I meant for this to turn into a soap."

"Yeah," I muttered in agreement, but I didn't look at either of them. The truth was that it didn't matter what Ashton had told Dave. Maybe we hadn't done anything, but why had it felt like we would have?

Dave almost seemed to read my thoughts. "That's one hell of a position to be in just to save someone from falling."

Ashton muttered something in rebuke at him, but I kept my head down and concentrated on my food. Dave was more right than I wanted to admit. And it didn't end there. "So why didn't you just go for it?" Dave asked us shamelessly.

"Go for what?" Ash asked him, though I was sure he didn't want to hear the answer. I didn't want to hear it either, but I couldn't help but lift my head to stare at Dave.

One corner of his mouth twisted upward, and he was about to answer, when the bell suddenly rang. I didn't even have to see Dave's expression to know that he wouldn't be saying it now. For goodness sake, what is with these boys?

"Bye," I muttered to both of them, and Dave smirked at me, as if he could tell exactly what kind of conflict he'd just put me in. Ash didn't act so crafty, though, so I smiled at him before I left.

When Ash dropped me off a block away from my house later that day, I considered telling him what had occupied my mind for the remainder of the school day, but I just thanked him and waved goodbye.

Now that I was alone, I began to assess what I had gathered. I'd done a lot of thinking about the cafeteria incident, and I couldn't help but feel that it was rather convenient that Josh and Britt were absent for lunch today. And it wasn't just that.

On the day of the carnival, Ash and I had run away when Josh started coming toward us—he had had a photograph in hand. Unless he had given the picture to someone else—which I doubted—then he was really the only person who had ever had that picture in his hands.

And if that were true, then all my other suspicions were true—Dave and Ash really did have reason to not trust Josh; Josh must have been the one who told Britt all those things about Ash; and finally Josh had definitely been the one to post the picture of Ash and me in front of the whole cafeteria.

Now all I had to do was prove it. And figure out why he'd do such a thing.