Epilogue #3
With her long, blonde hair and big baby-blue eyes, she looks like a porcelain doll, but that’s where anything doll-like ends. Since she’s the most popular girl at CHS, if you get on her bad side then everyone hates you by default.
Like I said, I’ve been on her shit list since kindergarten.
“What do you need?” I keep my voice low and even while pulling my cell from a pocket to check the time.
Damn. If I don’t leave in the next minute or so, I’ll miss the bus and have to walk three miles to get home.
Another two weeks and I should have enough savings to buy a cheap car, thank God.
“What do I need?” she asks, widening her eyes. “Nothing from you, that’s for sure.”
The other three girls cackle as if she’s told the funniest joke in the world.
“So, you’re gonna stand here and waste my time?” I try to push my way through the group, but they won’t budge.
I imagine grabbing her long locks and slamming her forehead against the metal door. Okay, that’s violent, Tilly, my inner voice reminds me. Yeah? Well, she’s a little—
“You know, with plastic surgery, like right here—” She taps the end of my nose. “—and a better wardrobe besides ancient band t-shirts and jeans, you might have a chance with a guy like Max.”
Blood boils in my veins. “Never touch me—”
“Well, maybe not.” She shakes her head and pouts her red lips, putting the palms of her hands against her cheeks and raising her eyebrows.
“I forgot. With that temper, you’ve never even had a boyfriend, have you?
” Twisting away with an evil laugh, she motions her group to follow, but stops and glances over a shoulder.
“After all, who’d want to date someone as ugly and angry as you? ”
Unable to contain the rising wave of red fury, I swing the backpack toward the side of her head. Twenty pounds of books and unbridled anger smacks her full force. It connects with a satisfying thump.
Score one for Tilly Morgan.
Her legs fold and her butt plops onto the tiled floor.
The flow of traffic freezes. Some students gape while others gasp. Several rush to help her stand.
She rubs her ear as if in slow motion. Eyes wide and unfocused, she blinks and stumbles to her feet.
Oops. I didn’t mean to hurt her too badly, just give her something to remember why she should leave me alone.
“Matilda Morgan,” Mr. Sanders shouts, barreling through the crowd of onlookers. “Go to my office right now.” His balding head reflects the lights from above.
“But she started it—”
“Now.” He stabs a shaky finger toward the administrative section of the school. I know the way to his office all too well.
I sigh, close my locker, and trudge toward my doom.
Everyone either glares or sneers as I pass.
Here we go again. Mamma’s going to kill me.
Chapter 2:
“Tilly, damn it.” Daddy positions his rearview mirror, then gives me a stern stare. “Lucky for you it was my day off. If your mother had to come up here and deal with this…” He starts the truck’s engine and pulls out of the school parking lot.
“I know, but we don’t have to tell her.” I stare out the window, glad to see the school and its football field sliding out of sight.
“Oh no, you’re not going to get me on the bad side of your mother’s temper.”
“But you don’t understand how it is. People are cruel.
” I hate sounding whiney, but I need to defend myself.
“They’re always making jokes about what I wear and how long my nose is.
” I raise my voice in imitation of Emory’s high screech.
“Hey, Tilly, has anyone tried to ski off that slope on your face?”
“Ignore them,” he grunts. “You’re beautiful, and there’s nothing wrong with your nose. They’re petty, jealous girls who are probably insecure and have their own issues.”
“Yeah, well ignoring them is easier said than done.”
He reaches out an arm and squeezes my hand. “They’re just words, Half-pint.”
“They still hurt.”
He flicks the blinker and pulls to a stop sign.
“Kids can be mean. I get it.” After turning onto the road leading to our house, he casts a quick glance my way.
“But that’s still no excuse to lose your temper and act like a heathen.
Maybe you should think about joining the Air Force, like I did.
It gave me the discipline and structure I needed for a flying career. ”
“Are you crazy?” I push the back of my head into the seat and cross my arms over my chest. “I’m not joining up with the military to let new people push me around.
” Snorting, I continue. “After graduation, I’m moving to Florida and living with Sissy.
It’ll be nice having a fresh start, away from all these assholes, and I won’t have to pay for a dorm. ”
“Well, it’s a great plan—if you graduate.”
“What’re you talking about?” My eyebrows draw inward. I have good grades and I’m not in danger of failing any classes.
“This could’ve been serious, Tilly. Principal Sanders wants to expel you.”
“What?” Alarm races through my limbs and I jerk upright. “Are you freaking kidding me?”
We roll into the driveway. The pickup stops behind Daddy’s pride and joy: his sleek Harley Davidson, with its gleaming chrome tail pipes and leather saddlebags.
“No, I’m not. You’re lucky he and I go way back.
” He pops the door handle to the truck, but twists to look at me.
“Now, it’s time to get out and face the music.
Your mother’s gonna be home soon. Might be a good time to get a head start on supper.
Soften the blow, so to speak.” He strokes his short blond beard.
“Though, your cooking might be punishment for all three of us.” His eyes sparkle, and he winks before exiting the vehicle and slamming the door shut.
Groaning, I jump out and follow him inside. I despise cooking, but I hate Mamma’s looks of disappointment even worse.
He opens the screen door, gesturing me to go ahead.
With a sigh, I trudge inside, wishing I could skip time forward and be done with all this.
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