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  • Writer's pictureGina A. Jones

The Colors of Ash-Chapter Twenty-eight

I’m not sure what just happened. Ash never has normal sex—quickie sex. At least with me, that is. And he’s the one who ordered my uniform. Was it intentional that he ordered a blouse a size smaller than what I wear?

He’s quiet, and we are still embraced over the hood of his car. It’s like he’s lost somewhere inside his own mind. He’s different. Gentle. Could it be his aftercare?

He’s holding me tightly, inhaling the scent of my hair, and my skin, his nose brushes along my neck. I feel his heart pounding. He removes himself from inside me and tucks himself back into his pants. He then turns me around and looks into my eyes. It’s different. He’s normally distant after sex.

He presses his forehead against mine and closes his eyes for a moment.

“Are you okay?” He asks in a gentle voice. He’s asking if I’m okay? It was the gentlest sex we have had—for him. “Let me put your panties back on,” he says, his face still pressed against mine.

He reaches down into his pocket and pulls out the panties. It’s strange to see him lower himself down, hold out the panties, and then look up at me to step into them. There’s a vulnerable look in his eyes. Almost sweet.

He slides the panties slowly up my legs until they’re back in place. His hand then gently massages my bottom. He takes me by the hand, leading me back to the car, and helping me inside. Once he’s inside, he’s quiet before starting the car. I’m waiting for him to say something. But he doesn’t. He turns the car around and back onto the highway and drives on like nothing ever happened. Soon, I see the school.

“Hunter will be picking you up today,” he says, pulling the car into the school’s parking lot. “And…I will have my physician at the house when you get home. I insist from now on, you will be taking the shot for your birth control.”

“But I’m on the pill, sir.”

“Doesn’t matter. I want to control all parts of you. Even your reproduction. Is this understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

I step out of the car, thinking he’s about to leave. Instead, he exits his side and escorts me to the door. “Have a good day, Cinder,” he says and walks back to his car. He looks at me before driving out of the lot. Just then, I feel the evidence of our sex as it begins running down my leg. I must find the restroom.

Faces look at me strangely, as I make my way down the hall in search of the restroom. I spot one right around the corner and make no haste to step in. Pushing open the stall, I lock the door and attend to the mess left behind by Ash. Even though I enjoyed this morning’s encounter, I hope this won’t be an everyday occurrence.

Stepping out when I’ve finished, I wash my hands at the sink. Another girl is applying her lipstick in the mirror. “Hi, I’m new here. Today is my first day. I’m Cinder,” I say, introducing myself to the stranger.

She pulls away, looking at me like a bad odor is reeking from me. She then unzips her small purse, dropping the lipstick back inside. After giving me another dirty look, she turns and walks out the door. Great, just as I thought. I’m enrolled at Snob Hill. My last six months are going to be hell.

I pull out my schedule, looking for my first class, economics. Should be loads of fun. Being that I have no money to even be concerned with economics.

I find the class and step inside. All heads spin around to look at me. I feel like I’m on display at some freak circus. In walks the girl who should have already graduated, letting a man use her body for sex, just so she won’t be homeless.

“Welcome, you must be Cinder McIntire. I have you assigned next to Abby Pendleton.” She points at the snob girl who was painting her lips just seconds ago in the restroom. She gives me another dirty look as I make my way over and take a seat at my desk. Just great.

“Class, this is Mr. Sinclair’s niece. She will be attending Lincoln School for Girls, completing her senior year.” Niece? She then directs her next statement to me. “Mr. Sinclair has been a generous benefactor here at our school. You must be very proud to have such a giving uncle,” she says.

“Yes. Yes, I am,” I say, feeling the heat flush my face. I then must wonder; how many other nieces Ash has sent to this school. And that’s when I notice little Miss Snotty has a sweet smile on her face. Like she suddenly wants to be my friend.

Fat chance.

“Okay ladies, please hand in the homework you were assigned over the weekend.  Miss McIntire, you can see me after class, and I will get you up to speed,” she says and then continues to the board for her lesson of the day.


It’s now lunchtime, and so far, Miss Snotty Pants has been in every one of my classes. She’s also walking with me to the lunchroom, all while pretending to be my friend and showing me the ropes.

“So, I’m sorry we got off on a bad start,” she says. “You just never can tell who you can trust to be your friend.”

“And why all of a sudden do you want to be my friend?” I ask snidely.

“Look. It’s a fair question. I only act like a bitch to protect myself. I’ve been burned one too many times. I just wanted to get the upper hand before you bitched on me first. Every girl here is a bitch. I think it’s part of the curriculum.”

I let her talk, but somehow, I feel Ash Sinclair is her reason for wanting to be friends. Brownie points, or something.

“Look, I don’t want any trouble. In six months, I’ll be gone, and you can be a bitch to some other new girl.”

“Cinder, this is me saying I’m sorry, which I don’t do very often. Ever. Can we start over?” She holds out her hand. “Hi, I’m Abby, you must be new here. May I be your guide today?”

“The day is half over, and I think I’ve gotten along just fine without you, Abby. I don’t need you to be my friend. I have lots of friends,” I lie.

“Well…I don’t.” Her expression changes to something sad. Like a lost puppy who keeps following you home. Why am I suddenly feeling sorry for her?”

“You know what, I could use a little help today. Abby, would you show me to the cafeteria?” I ask her, sounding sincere. I watch her sad expression turn into a warm smile. Why am I such a sucker? Maybe because I know what it’s like to have no one. I never would have thought a place like this would harbor such feelings of loneliness. A place where everyone is cut from the same high- society mold.

“Right this way,” she says, and I follow her down the hall and around the corner. “Did you bring your lunch, or buying it today?

“I’ll be buying. My…uncle put money into an account for lunches.”

“Okay, let's go see what we are having today.” She turns on her heel, and I notice the pep now in her step as she leads me to the cafeteria.

After we get our food, Abby suggests we have our lunch outside in the courtyard, since it is a beautiful fall day. We find a table and sit down to eat; she begins chatting like we are long-lost friends. It’s kind of peculiar. I feel maybe she’s digging for information about my relationship with Ash, aka my uncle.

“So where did you go to school before?”

“New York.” I keep my answers quick and short.

“So, why is your uncle sending you here?”

“My mother moved to Colorado. I didn’t want to finish my senior year so far away. That’s when my uncle offered to help. Plus, it’s only for six months.”

“And what are your plans once you graduate? Where will you be attending college?”

For a girl who wanted nothing to do with me this morning, she’s becoming extremely inquisitive. And, what will I do in six months? When Ash is done with me. “Um, I haven’t decided yet. Maybe I’ll go see my mother. Go to school out there.”

“My parents have already insisted I go to their alma mater.”

“Their what?”

“You know, the college they graduated from.”

“Where’s that?”

“Princeton,” she says with a roll of her eyes.

“Wow, that’s…that would be amazing.” Suddenly, I feel she can see through my thin veneer. Just to be able to go to a community college would please me. But I know it’s not in the stars for me. I seriously need to get a plan together before Ash is finished with me.

Throughout the rest of our lunch, I let her do the talking. I don’t want to reveal any of my past or present personal information to a stranger. A stranger that I’m not sure I can trust.


The Colors of Ash © 2024 Gina A. Jones rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

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angie jones


shannon Cheripka

Wow another color of ash. I wonder if Abby will be a true friend or someone who is trying to know ash.

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