Page 112 of Mad Girl

Location dropped, I let the phone slip to the floor and yanked at my hair, tearing the braids loose. I hated them. My hands trembled while I curled up next to Tinsley and waited for Michael.

When Michael texted to let me know he was outside on the landing, I unlocked the door and let him inside. He took one look at me and reached for my face. “Elliot, what’s going on? How’d you get this?”

I brushed him off and led him to the bed. “Help me with Tinsley.”

Michael’s gaze raced over Tinsley’s body. “What—what happened here?” He bent and gently tapped her cheek, asked her to wake up. When she mumbled incoherently like she had with me, he said, “Seriously, what the hell happened here?”

My voice quavered when I said, “She’s fine. She’s okay.” I gestured to her costume, still very much intact. “Does it look like anything happened?”

His gaze dropped to my bare thighs. “Is that your whole costume? Is that all you wore here?”

“Yes.”

His eyes shimmered with fear.

“Michael, this is it. I promise. I want to go home now. Just—help me.”

Michael slipped off his jacket and draped it across my shoulders, then scooped Tinsley up and carried her down the two flights of stairs. Hal looked worried as we approached, but he dutifully opened the door so Michael could deposit her onto the back seat. I crawled in beside her while Michael rounded the car and climbed in the passenger seat up front.

Once he’d pulled away from the curb, Hal’s gaze met mine in the rearview mirror. “What happened in there?”

“Nothing,” I said, hands shaking as I stroked Tinsley’s hair in my lap.

“Ell,” Hal said. “Tell me the truth.”

“Tinsley got a little carried away,” I told him. “She had too much to drink.”

Hal cast a sidelong glance at Michael, who nodded. But Hal wasn’t convinced. “Then what’s that on your face?”

“Caught someone’s elbow while dancing,” I lied. “It’s no big deal.”

Hal eyed me warily the whole way home.

At the house, Michael carried Tinsley all the way up to my bedroom and placed her on my bed. We removed her shoes, turned her onto her side, and tucked her underneath the sheets.

Still shivering, I flung off the pumps and thigh-high tights, then dropped Michael’s jacket to the floor. Sweat had fused the bodysuit to my skin. I frantically clawed at my back, trying to find the zipper.

Coming to my rescue, Michael freed the zipper for me. “Hold still,” he said gently, peeling the latex down my body. “I’ve got it.”

But I couldn’t hold still. I tore at the bodysuit, pushing it down as I gripped his shoulder and he helped me step out of it.

In my floor-length mirror, I studied the angry bruises those assholes had left on me. The one blooming on my face. The dark, splotchy mass forming between the hem of my bra and that of my underwear. The one around my neck—the angriest bruise of them all. My breath caught as I brushed my fingers over it.

Michael lifted my chin. “Elliot,” he whispered, dragging his eyes away from my neck to search my gaze. He could barely get the words out. “What happened to you?”

I knew what he was asking, so I said, “Not that.” I grabbed some leggings and a t-shirt off the floor of my closet, then your cardigan off my desk chair. I wrapped its cozy softness around my body, but nothing stopped the shivering. Out on the landing, I curled up on that camelback settee.

Michael joined me. “Tell me what happened.”

Still shaking, I told him everything except their names.

“Tell me who it was,” Michael said.

“No. I’ll handle them myself.” My hatred for those boys burned so brightly I thought I could. I’d come up with a plan. I’d destroy them both—Greer especially. I’d hurt the shit out of him for the way he’d hurt me.

“The hell you will.” He glanced over at Tinsley, visible from the landing, still passed out on my bed. “They roofied Tinsley. That’s serious, too, even if they didn’t touch her. Tell me their names.”

I grabbed Michael’s wrist to check his watch. Five minutes to midnight. You’d be home soon. “Do you think I can hide this from Casey? From my dad?”