Basically Define "Normal" by Julie Anne Peters. Changed a few words and names to fit Spashley. I don't feel like getting sued at this age, so this disclaimer applies throughout the entire story: I do not own South of Nowhere, any characters in SoN, the plot of this story, or anything else I'm typing.

Good Reading,

Narwhal

Chapter 1: Peer Counseling

I opened the door and froze. Not Ashley Davies. Couldn't be. Impossible. My jaw stuck in a gape-open position.

"What are you looking at?" Ashley sneered at me.

Your red streaks? Your blood red lips? Your extra mini miniskirt?

"Nothing," I muttered.

"You my peer counselor?" Ashley asked, placing her six-inch stilettos heels up to the conference table. She tipped back the chair and threaded her fingers together behind her head.

My stomach knotted. "Guess so." I thought, Define "peer."

Ashley snorted. She must've had the same thought.

Releasing a long breath, I sat in a chair at the opposite end of the table. Even that far away, her perfume was noxious. Maybe it wasn't perfume. More like incense. The odor, a mix of musky and sweet, made my nose pucker. I smoothed out the wrinkles on my pleated skirt, trying not to sneeze. Or gag. "Where's Dr. Alix?" I asked.

"She had some emergency," she answered. "Probably ran out of Altoids and had to rush over to 7-Eleven."

I stifled a laugh. Our school psychologist did reek of peppermint.

"So, you want to start or you want me to?" She leaned back further in her chair, her heels scraping across the tabletop. They left a noticeable black mark. Maybe the faculty conference room wasn't the ideal place to hold counseling sessions.

Start. Where to start? When Dr. Alix proposed the peer-counseling program at King High School, I'm sure she didn't think someone like Ashley Davies would sign up. No doubt, she meant it was for people with minor problems. Problems such as dealing with difficult teachers or getting stressed out with too much homework. Problems with boyfriends or jealous girlfriends. I don't know. Not someone with Ashley Davies problems. She was hopeless. A punker. A junkie. An outcast. Peer counseling? Ashley needed long-term professional psychotherapy. "In a locked up facility," I mumbled.

"Huh?" she said.

"Nothing. Why don't you go ahead." This should be good. "Tell me why you're here." Dr. Alix suggested the line as an icebreaker, a way to open a conversation. Although between us, there loomed an iceberg.

Ashley smirked. "It keeps me off the streets."

I forced a smile back. Good reason.

She flung her feet to the floor and stoop. Her chair crashed into the metal heater behind her, leaving a dent. "Oops." She shrugged. Leaving the chair as it is, she walked across the room towards me. "I can't talk to you clear down there." She pulled out a chair diagonal to me and looped her left leg over the back. "I'm here because Alix says I gotta be. I gotta do fifteen hours or counseling this term." She slid the sleeve of her black jacket leather jacket up an inch and glanced at her watch. "Twelve minutes and counting." She grinned.

I couldn't get over how white her teeth looked against the red lipstick. Or maybe what distracted me was the ring in her eyebrow. "Doesn't that hurt?"

"What?" She frowned.

I touched my eyebrow.

"Nah. I mean, it hurt at first. Bled like crazy. I felt like Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Why? You thinking of getting one?"

I shuddered. Not in this life.

"'Cause if you are, Drew's Tattoos is having a special. With every body piercing you get one free tattoo."

Tattoos? Should I ask?

"Want to see mine?"

Was I a masochist? Apparently. "Why not," I said.

Ashley took her right heel off and stuck her foot in my face. "Can you tell what it is?" she asked.

I peered close at her ankle. There it was, a tiny tattoo. "A blood drop?" I ventured. Seemed appropriate.

"No." She shoved it closer to me. "It's a ladybug. See the spots?"

Only before my eyes. I squinted. "Oh, yeah. Cool." Okay, I admit it. It was sort of cool. "Did that hurt?"

"Nah. The other one did. The one on my…you know." She wiggled her eyebrows. "I won't show you…yet."

"Thanks." I said, blushing.

She laughed. As she tugged her heels back on, her gaze drifted down to her watch again. "Nineteen minutes. This isn't so bad. You want to talk about my hair, too? 'Cause you keep staring at it."

My face seared fireball red. Eyes dropping to my stack of books, I pulled out the peer counselor folder and opened it. My hands shook. What am I doing here? I wondered. I can't do this.

Ashley said, "Maybe we should start with our names. I'm Ashley Davies. Everybody calls me Ash." She drummed the table with her index fingers like a rock musician then shined those sparkling teeth at me again.

It almost made me laugh. Almost. "I'm Spencer Carlin."

Ashley stuck out her hand to shake. "Nice to meet you, Spence."

I flinched.

Ashley leaned back in her chair. "Why don't you tell me about you first? Then maybe I won't be so nervous."

She was nervous? My hands were about to register on the Richter scale. "Okay. My name is Spencer. Everybody calls me Spencer." My eyes met hers.

She shrugged.

I continues, "I'm sixteen and in the tenth grade. My favorite subjects are algebra and photography. I'm on the honor rolls and in film club…I was in film club, but I had to quit. I used to do gymnastics, too, but…-"

Ashley yawned audibly. She checked her watch. "Time sure flies when you're having fun." Batting mascara-caked eyelashes at me, she added, "And that's about all the fun I can stand for one day." She stood.
I stumbled to my feet. As I shoved my notebook back into my bag, she flounced by me and opened the door. "Hey, thanks a lot, Spence," she said at my back. "I feel better already."

Wonderful, I thought. I feel sick.

Thanks for reading. Feel free to review, leave constructive criticism, tell me how much it sucked, say hi, or leave a smiley face. I know some people do not like when others copy someone else's book, and I understand.

-Narwhal