* * *
“There you are,”Vicky says with a dramatic sigh. “Took you long enough.” Then she shakes her head and points at my feet. “No.” Vicky glares at her mother, her finger still extended toward me like a sword. “She’snotwearing those sneakers, Mother.” Then Vicky takes a step closer. “Is that some sort of bandage?” Her face morphs into something I’d like to call stormy, but it’s more like a tsunami. “Mother,” she snaps, “she isnotwearing a bandage at my wedding.” Her voice turns whiny as she adds, “I told you she’d ruin everything.”
Do you want to know something? I’m over this. I get it. Vicky hates me. I accept that fact, and I can now move on with my life without caring what she thinks about me one way or the other. Eventually, I’ll get over it, but after today, hell, this week, I’m pretty sure I’ll get over the loss quicker than I would’ve otherwise. Without further ado, I turn around and limp back the way I came.
“Mattie?” It’s Vicky’s voice. “Wh-Where are you going?”
I don’t bother looking back. “Home.”
“Y-You can’t leave.”
“Watch me.” Not even Aunt Annabelle can stop me.
“Mattie, you can’t do this to me.” She’s screeching, and it’s getting louder, which means she’s following me. I do my best to speed up, but my ankle hurts.
Her hand is on my shoulder, but I keep going. That is until she grips me hard and pulls me back. I nearly fall on my ass, but I catch myself with my bad ankle. “Ouch.” NowI’mangry.
She starts off with, “You’re selfish.”
“Me?” My turn to screech. “I’mselfish?” Scoffing, I add, “That’s rich coming from the most selfish person I’ve ever known.” That’s no lie. I still love her, but she’s a pain in the neck.
Vicky stomps her foot on the ground. “Stop being obtuse. You know you can’t leave.”
“I can, and I will.” I turn and attempt to get away, but she races around me, then stops, essentially blocking my getaway.
“Be reasonable.”
I roll my eyes because this conversation is ridiculous. “I’m nothing if not reasonable.” Placing my hands on my hips, I jut my hip out in an exaggerated movement that hurts both my ribs and my ankle. God, I’m a mess.
“Look.” She sighs. “Let’s compromise.”
I tap my good foot.
“If you take off that hideous bandage, you can be in the wedding.”
And there it is. “Do you know why I’ve got a wrap on my ankle?” I don’t let her guess. “Because you two pushed me to the ground. You bruised my ribs and scratched my face. I did that to help you so you wouldn’t have a black eye today.” There, I said it. “If you don’t like the wrap on my foot, then you’re going to have to figure something else out. To be honest, I didn’t ask for this. You did.”
“You got hurt?” Vicky sounds a tad remorseful. I’m sure it’ll be short-lived. It usually is.
“I did.”
She leans in to get a closer look at my face. “I can’t see any scratches.” Did she not see me when I came in today? No, she was too busy with her own makeup. I get that. It’s her wedding day.
“Makeup” is all I say.
She stares down at my foot. “At least it’s close to the same color as your leg.”
“I’ve got a red one if you’d prefer.”
“No.” She smiles, finally. “You’ll do it?”
“I will. Only because I’m pretty sure Aunt Annabelle will have my head if I don’t.”
Vicky begins to walk back toward the church. “Let’s go.”
I follow her, against my better judgement. As soon as we’re back in the church, Vicky claps her hands. “Because Mattie decided to throw a fit, we now do not have time to practice our dance entrances. Let’s hope you’ve all got it down.” Vicky glares pointedly at Alec, who’s busy looking at me. His brows are furrowed.
I wonder why.
