Chapter 26
Sorrow
The rest of Christmas break goes by fast. We spent New Year’s Eve and New Year’s Day in Australia, played hooky from school, and then life went back to normal.
Except everything isn’t normal. I have feelings for Trace, and I refuse to tell him. It was nice of Phoebe to be interested in my situation and look further into it, but I will not stand by and watch Trace put his mouth on hers.
No way in hell.
The week back in class is like we never went on a two-week break. Or that Trace and I progressed from enemies to friends. Will it be lovers next? I can’t. I won’t be one of his hookups.
I wait for Trace by the dumpster in the back of the school. We have to keep up the pretense that he hates me, and hating me means he drives around to where they put out the trash to get me rather than having me wait in front of the school with the rest of the kids.
Deep in thought, I don’t hear the snickering from behind me until it’s too late.
I’m shoved hard. I fall forward and land on my knees with my hands catching my fall. My palms sting from hitting the pavement. Sharp pains shoot from my kneecaps to my hips. Jesus. I turn to look over my shoulder, but I’m grabbed by the hair and yanked up until my scalp burns and tingles.
“Let the fuck go!” I reach back for the girl’s hand. Small hand, not a large one, like a guy’s.
“Saints fucking you is soiling your pretty mouth.” One of the guys who has said horrible things to me gets in my face.
“Why do you care?” I’m tired of being someone else’s punching bag because my tragedies and dirty laundry are out in the open for the town to judge and analyze. “Why can’t you leave me alone?”
He looks up at whoever has a firm grip on my hair. The person releases me. The guy lifts me as if I’m weightless, wraps his arms around me from behind, and presses me against his body. I struggle to get out of his hold, but he’s too strong.
The girl who had me by the hair steps in front of me.
Surprise is an understatement.
“Phoebe?”
“Hi, Sorrow.”
Betrayal is like a slap in the face. How could I be so wrong about her?
I thought she was helping me. I thought she was over Trace when he told me how she was helping me.
I was wrong. Love makes us do bat-crazy shit, and the crazy on Phoebe’s face .
. . “Do what you have to.” I clench my jaw.
“I’m tired of you all dancing around him like he’s yours to own.
Trace will never commit to one girl. He’ll never commit to you. ”
She slaps me. My cheek stings. My ears ring.
“Was the story you told him even true?”
“It is, but they’ll never believe you. Do you know how many girls have crawled out from whatever rock they lived under, claiming to be the missing baby? A shit ton of them, Sorrow. And guess what?”
She doesn’t give me time to answer.
“They all have eyes the color of yours. Your eye color is nothing special.” She spits in my face.
I go to wipe it off, but the guy lets go of me, grabs my arms, and yanks them behind my back. It’s a good thing he did. I was about to sock Phoebe in the face. Maybe break her perfect nose with a hard punch.
“Stay away from Trace.”
“I can’t. I live with him, remember?” I smirk, learning well from the guy Phoebe has a lady-boner for. Where the hell is he? Trace should be driving down the back of the school by now.
Phoebe reads me like an open book. “He’s hooking up with a girl in the bathroom. I heard them.”
She’s wrong. “You’re wrong!”
“Listen for yourself.” She pulls out her cell phone and pushes a button.
Moans and pants follow urgent, needy voices. “That’s it, sweetness. Suck my cock. Choke on it.”
Trace’s voice. Oh God, it’s Trace’s husky, sex-laden voice.
I hang my head. My heart shatters into pieces.
Large boots come into view. I don’t need to look up to know it’s the same four guys who leered at me and called me a slut and a cunt because I live with probably the most prolific manwhore on this side of the state.
And I’m in love with that manwhore. Trace is mine.
I love him no matter his past or that he broke my heart and my trust in him.
With what I’ve been through, the worst can’t be done to me.
I’ll live through my broken heart.
I’ll wake up every morning and face life with hope.
I’ll be the best person I can be because the alternative is to go backward to a life as a timid, nervous little mouse. Trace doesn’t think I’m a vermin anymore. I’m a beautiful bird who grew into my wings.
I’ll believe the best in him because he believed in me.
I raise my head with my jaw locked. “Do your worst. I can fucking take it.”
I’m blindsided with a smack to the side of my head, and my world plummets into darkness.