“Sure.”
“I’ll find us a table while you get some food.”
I give her a thumbs up and we temporarily part ways. The lunch line is lengthy, but it’s moving fairly quickly. My greedy gaze scours the mouthwatering selections behind the plexiglass. The crispy chicken tenders, mozzarella sticks, and curly fries are calling my name. I shift on my feet, impatiently awaiting my turn.Come on.
“Next,” an older woman calls out, waving me forward.
Hallelujah!
“Hi,” I chirp and point out my selections.
I pay for my goodies, then make my way toward the outdoor dining area.
“Well, if it isn’t Ms. Junior Slutbag.” I come to an abrupt standstill, recognizing my cousin’s scathing tone.
Her snide remark is met with jeering laughter.Great, an audience.I clutch my laden tray in a death grip. Deja sits regal-like at the overcrowded table to my left.
I raise my chin, displaying a boldness the pounding organ in my chest belies. “I’m not a slut.”
“No?” Deja lifts a perfectly shaped eyebrow. “Ladies, keep an eye on this one. She’s a slut like her mother and will fuck your boyfriend right under your nose.”
“Liar,” I hiss.
“Don’t worry about them, babes.” A cute boy with a high-top fade and mischievous brown irises winks at me. “You can be my slut anytime.” He grabs his crotch and gives a hard squeeze. “How about now?”
More laughter. I squeeze the tray harder as sweat rapidly accumulates under my armpits.
“Me too, sweet cheeks.” Another boy grins, showcasing slightly crooked teeth. “Interested in a threesome? Me and Xander will take real good care of your fine ass.”
“This is my man,” a girl sneers, possessively snaking an arm around the biceps of the boy beside her. “Touch him and you die, bitch.”
I’m still a virgin, but I refuse to tell them that. Fuck them. There’s no use in trying to defend myself anyway. They’ve already decided who I am.
“She’s broke and homeless too.” Deja resumes the attack on my character, tsking under her breath in disapproval. “And her father’s a criminal.”
Tears burn my eyes and threaten to spill over, but I blink them back.
“Aww, she’s about to cry,” Deja croons. “Poor thing.”
“Where’s my backpack?” I ask, resolving not to acknowledge my near breakdown.
The budding actress taps a finger against her cheek in bewilderment. “Whatever do you mean?”
“Don’t play stupid, Deja.” My voice wavers a tiny bit. “You know exactly what I’m talking about. I left my backpack by the basement door, and you took it. Tell me where it is right now!”
“Oh, that raggedy piece of shit,” she states, her full lips curling into an evil smirk. “I thought it was trash, so I threw it out. My bad.”
Don’t react. Don’t react. Don’t react.
What am I going to do? I don’t have the money to buy school supplies, let alone a new backpack. I can’t depend on Leah’s generosity every day. Admittedly, the loss is inconsequential compared to the hailstorm my life has recently become. It was stupid to think things would be different here. Hope is a dangerous thing for good reason.
I square my shoulders and stride forward, head held high. A second later, I’m sprawled on my face, and any hope of a dignified exit goes right out the damn window.
Deja, the spiteful bitch that she is, tripped me.Ugh!She’s been getting the jump on me since this morning. Jeers and cackling fill my ears. I lie there, stunned, watching my bottled water skid across the floor. Most of my lunch and dipping sauces scatter behind the rolling plastic. So much for eating good. I hop to my feet and grab my tray, but fall again chasing after my bottled water. Ketchup packets are the culprit this time.
Stick a fork in me, I’m so fucking done.
I’m never going to live this down. The rest of the school year is going to be a freaking nightmare. I should’ve ignored her and kept it moving.
