Shay told me not to continue in my quest of reporting him, saying that it would only make my stay here worse and I would’ve listened to her, but fuck that. Assault should be reported and victims shouldn’t be forced into silence.
After trying to speak to someone all week, I had to think of the kids. I need to make our time here as drama free as possible and with our mom still unaccounted for, I really can’t make too many waves.
Speaking of the mini tyrants, they’re all at sleepovers for the night. It’s great that they made friends so easily. They should be able to put down roots and just be able to be kids.
Them being gone means it’s me andUthred of Bebbanburgall night. I love me some Alexander Dreymon. If I thought about it, Owen kind of looks like if Alexander and Jason Momoa had a super baby. Maybe that’s why I almost drooled when I was taking their order the other night, at the diner. Too bad he’s friends with a major dick.Oh well.
That doesn’t mean I can’t flick the bean to him on occasion, am I right?
Just as I get ready to hit play on the tv, my phone rings and Shay’s name flashes across my screen.
I slide the button to answer, “Hey bish, you’re seriously intruding on my alone time with my man. This better be life or death.” My tone is joking but her response is comical.
“What? A man? How could we be so close and you not disclose you were slapping skins with someone, you bitch?” Shay asks me back, in mock horror or maybe true horror, the verdict is still out on this one.
“Bahaha Shay, I am talking about my imaginary relationship with Alexander Dreymon, but I do love your level of hurt over our five day friendship. It's touching. However, we might need to get you into therapy for attachment issues,” I say back. I can almost hear her eyes rolling back at me through the phone and it only makes me crack up even more.
“So, what has you interrupting Friday date night with bae?” I ask, causing her to choke on whatever she was drinking.
She takes a minute to compose herself before she responds, “This only confirms you need to come to the game tonight. I can’t have you in your house continuing with your imaginary man. It’s obviously detrimental to your mental health and I would be remiss in my best friend duties if I allowed this to continue. Plus, Alexander is mine, ho.” With that, the bitch hangs up on me, giving me absolutely no time to refuse to go to the game, but more importantly, rebuke her blasphemy! Because duh, Alex is mine!
* * *
“Talkabout someFriday Night Lightsshit. You can see the stadium lights all the way from the entrance to the sports park,” I say to Shay, as we pull into the packed parking lot of the football stadium.
Edgewood spared no expense when they built this monstrosity that looks like it could rival the AT&T stadium, in Texas. I mean I read about the state of the art sports park, but seeing it in person is on a whole different level.
“Yeah, sports are a pretty big deal here. So, about ten years ago the town began building the park and they add on to it all the time. Just another way to be pretentious if you ask me. But pretentious is Edgewood’s first, middle, and last name.” She shrugs.
As we walk toward the entrance of the stadium, she begins to point out the various areas of the park from the building that houses the olympic-sized pool, to the state of the art gymnastics arena.
Luckily, she has box seats so we don’t have to wait in the long ticket line. Apparently, people come from all across the state to watch this charity scrimmage and if you don’t get your tickets in advance then you will be in line well into the first quarter.
“Ewww, who invited the trash whore?” I hear a squeaky voice ask as we step into the room.
Before I can even mutter a retort Shay already has it handled. “Shut it Trisha or you can go sit in someone else’s box. Last I checked your family doesn’t have the clout to reserve seats in even the nosebleed section.”
Properly chastised Trisha hangs her head but not before scowling at me. Of course her ire would be for me and not for the person who just read her. I swear this town is full of spineless twits.
“Well, okay then. Whose box is this? I don’t want to be somewhere I’m not wanted. I can just as easily go back to cuddling with Alexander, you know,” I say, looking pointedly back at my friend.
“Oh, shut up. There will be no you and my man tonight, Ariah. This is my family’s box and unfortunately, Trisha here is my brother’s girlfriend. Which means we have to suffer listening to her obnoxious voice for the duration of the game.” She sighs as if she’s being resigned to a fate worse than death.
“Oh, you’re dramatic. Please tell me you’re in the drama club or something? Otherwise, you are wasting valuable talent,” I snark back.
We both laugh as we take our seats and wait for kickoff. When I look down at the field I see the cheerleaders are just about to take the field to cheer on the arrival of the team and who’s first in line with a big “C” on her cheer uniform? The queen of mean, Samantha Davenport, who is all fake smiles and spirit fingering away with one hand and shaking her pompom with the other.
Ugh, this is almost too cliché even for me. If this wasn’t my life, I would swear I was reading the pages ofToxic Creekby KC Kean.
My head snaps toward Shay. “Seriously? She’s the mean girl cheerleader? Why am I not surprised? And let me guess our resident douche is the captain of the football team and they will marry and have a new generation of douche and twat kids?”
Shay snorts, choking on her soda, which only makes me laugh, because her face is now contorting to try and alleviate the burning in her freckle-covered nose. “I can’t believe you would laugh at my pain. After I saved you from a life as a spinster, this is the thanks I get?”
Her question has me in stitches, keeled over cackling with tears starting to form in my eyes and running down my face as I gasp for air. “What? Real friends laugh at each other’s embarrassing moments, once we know you won’t die from them of course,” I say while trying to keep a straight face. I succeed for all of a millisecond.
“Laugh it up ho. Just remember I know where you sleep at night. But, to answer your questions. Yes, she’s the captain. No, our douchey king is not the captain. That’s actually Owen and he wouldn’t touch Sam with a borrowed dick and the guarantee that no one would find out. As for the next generation, if it was up to her she would have that whole group’s babies tomorrow.”
My eyes go wide and my mouth drops open at her answer. “You mean like all of them?”
