“Oh, babe. You think everything is unfair when you don’t get what you want,” Damian points out, then rips into his sandwich.
“Do not!”
I attempt to stifle a giggle rather unsuccessfully. Arissa slaps my shoulder.
“Hey!” I rub my shoulder. “What was that for?”
“You’re supposed to be on my side.”
“But, it’s true.” I grin at her.
She flips me the bird and I return the gesture.
“Who has homework tonight?” Damian asks.
“Who doesn’t?” I ask in return.
“Wish I could do homework with you guys, but I have practice after school,” he answers.
“I just want the day to end.”
Jason’s brow furrows. “What happened?”
“The staring is getting to me.”
“Still?” Arissa asks.
“Of course. My darling sister isn’t there to stare them all down,” I say facetiously.
Jason massages my back in circles. I press into him and he wraps his arm around me.
Arissa purses her lips and I touch her shoulder. “It’s okay, Riss. The novelty will wear off or some other drama will come up and they’ll forget about it.”
She scowls. “Doesn’t mean I have to like it.”
Damian tackles her to the ground with a glint of mischief in his eyes and tickles her.
Her laughter peals in the open air. “Stop!” She grabs at his wrists to pry his hands off of her.
Jason and I watch, snickering. Damian lets up after a minute of torturing her. She smacks his shoulder and he sticks out his lower lip for show.
“Not funny, Damian.”
“I was trying to get you to lighten up. You’re wound too tight.”
She glares at him with her arms crossed. I throw a carrot stick, hitting her in the face.
“What the hell!” she yells, picking up the carrot stick and throwing it back at me.
I flash her my middle finger and she returns the gesture, then laughs. I grin at Damian. “That’s how you do it.”
CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE
Becky stands over us in the quad with arms folded and her entourage behind her. I guess it was unreasonable and irrational to think that maybe, just maybe, we wouldn’t have to deal with her truculence.
“What do you want, Becky?” Arissa asks, sneering.
“I just wanted to ask Jason what he thinks about dating someone who was used and thrown aside like garbage.”
I turn to Jason, who is staring at her, slack-jawed. “J, what was it like dating Becky?”
She drops her arms and clenches her fists as Arissa and Damian burst into laughter.
“Blake lost his job because of you!” she screams.
It’s satisfying to hear what became of the complaint Dad filed. If Becky hadn’t said anything the last time we saw her, I wouldn’t have figured it out. “You mean he lost his job because neither of you can keep your mouths shut.”
Her eyes narrow, then she snatches the open container of milk out of a friend’s hand and dumps it over me.
I wipe my face with my hands. “Seriously, Becky? I thought we were over this.”
“We are far from over with this.”
Arissa jumps up, but Damian grabs her. “You better run,” she says, low and menacing.
Becky and company scamper off as Jason helps me up. I make a beeline for the office.
“Where are you going?” they ask in unison.
“The bathroom is the other way,” Jason adds, pointing towards the bathrooms.
“I’m going to talk to the principal and call Mom.”
“I’ll bring your stuff!” Arissa calls out.
I wave my hand in acknowledgment as I stalk off to the office.
Ms. Stocker, Mr. Croft’s secretary, gives me paper towels to dry off with while she calls Mom.
“What can I do for you, Sara?” Mr. Croft asks from his chair when I enter his office.
“You can do something about Becky trying to bully me and then throwing milk on me,” I answer, settling into a chair in front of his desk.
“I’m sure she didn’t mean anything by it,” he says.
“Mr. Croft, since school started back yesterday, I’ve endured stares, pitying looks, and whispers from everyone. I can handle that. I can’t tolerate someone deliberately looking for trouble. Nor will I allow anyone to humiliate me by using my past abuse against me.” I don’t know where this courage comes from, but it feels good.
“Sara, what happened to you was a travesty, but you can’t come running to me every time someone teases you.”
It hits me in the face. All the people who treated me like a belonging. Simon. Tibby. Gillian. The judge. Blake. The Lloyds. Like a doll devoid of emotions or feelings to toss around as they please.
I clamp onto the arms of the chair and grit my teeth. “I have never been