“So, you don’t have a debit card or anything?”
“How? I’ve never had a job, and my parents paid for everything. That’s why they gave me a credit card. Besides, my mom preferred it that way because she said they receive points.”
Nick is staring at me like he’d just seen the president get shot.
“What?” I say in annoyance.
“You really are a princess.”
“Oh, shut up.” I shove at his chest, but he doesn't budge.
We watch as the guy rallies my rental car onto the tow truck.
“I’m surprised you don’t have your own car.” He asked.
“I did until I crashed it, hence why I'm being punished.”
“So on top of being irresponsible, you’re a bad driver.” He says it as a statement, not a question.
“No, I crashed it on purpose.”
Nick jolted his gaze to face me. His neck moved so fast I was afraid he pulled a muscle from whiplash.
“Why the hell would you do that?”
I look over at him. He has no clue what I’ve been through. He thinks because I’m rich, I didn’t have to learn how to survive in this fucked up world. He’s wrong; I’ve been surviving since I was born.
“Because the car had bad mojo, and I couldn’t stand to be in it anymore.”
Crazy. That’s probably what’s running through Nick's mind right now: I’m crazy, and maybe I am.
Heading to the pharmacy, Nick told his mom what was happening and promised her he’d be back soon to help her after he dropped me off at the lakehouse.
“So, how are you feeling?” Nick asked out of the blue.
“What? Is that your way of saying I look like shit again?”
“No, you had a rough day, so I wondered if you were hungry. Aren’t you supposed to be regulating your blood sugar?”
I nearly died from shock at his thoughtfulness. Was this his way of showing his concern? With food? I ignore the little peak of excitement that flutters in my stomach.
“Duh, why do you think I’m getting the insulin? It’s supposed to come with some pricker thing to help me know how much medicine I need and when I need it.”
“For someone who just got diagnosed with diabetes and had their car towed, you seem oddly calm.”
“Shit happens.” I plopped my feet up on the dashboard. “You mind if I call my mom?” I say as I pull out my phone.
“No, go ahead, princess.”
My mom answered on the third ring. “Hello,” she breathed, her voice fragile and quivering, like it had been dragged through tears.
“Mom, are you all right?” I sat up straighter, the comfort of my slouched posture gone in an instant.
“ Yes-no-I don’t know,” she stammered, every syllable drenched in panic.
“Mom, what’s wrong?”
“Richard.” Just his name, hanging in the air like smoke. She hesitated. My pulse kicked up, pounding hard behind my ribs. Didshe know? Had the whole truth finally clawed its way out of the dark?
