found the red panties in his little house across the driveway. My eyes narrow, I look down at the borrowed pants—are these really even his? If they gave me some random chick’s clothes to wear I’m going to be pissed.
“Dante,” Milo shouts from somewhere downstairs, his voice carrying up to us.
“We’re coming,” he answers on a yell. Dante turns his back and jogs over to a room down the hall. When he returns he has keys in his hand. “Ready?”
Looking at my bare feet I want to tell him no, that I need socks and my underwear, but I take a deep breath, and feeling completely unprepared for the day ahead of me, I nod anyway.
I don’t see Ares anywhere when the boys hustle me out if the side door where I left my shoes last night. Once we’re in the car, I take a few moments to cuff the bottom of my pants so I won’t have to keep holding them when I walk. If I thought no bra and panties were bad, it’s nothing compared to the way my bare feet feel inside my dirty old sneakers. I wiggle my toes for the hundredth time, feeling the small little piles of fabric balled together on the insole of the shoes, and the crispy fake leather rubbing on my heels.
Milo grabs my hand, stopping me from finishing rolling the sweats. “You don’t have socks on,” he announces like I didn’t already know that.
“I know.” I pull my hand free, covering my ankle.
“Why?”
I huff out a breath. “Ollie took my stuff to give to Gloria apparently,” I drone, and it’s clear I’m not happy.
Ollie turns to face me, a wince on his face. “I’m sorry Laura I didn’t even think about stuff like socks and...” His eyes dip to my chest and I cross my arms quickly, but not quick enough. “Shit.” He jerks back around in his seat, facing the front. “I’m really sorry Laura.” He turns back to look at me, keeping his eyes focused on mine. “Do you have socks… in your bag?” His drawn out question making it obvious he wasn’t only referring to socks.
Looking down at my lap my ears catch fire. “Yeah, it’s fine,” I answer softly. The rest of the ride to the diner is quiet and Dante watches me in the rearview mirror way more than is necessary, but I continue to stare out the window pretending not to notice. Dante pulls around the back of the Diner and honks his horn twice before jumping out. Gus pokes his gray head out the door, my bag gets extended in his arms as it is handed to Dante. He jumps back in the car, passing the heavy sack over the driver’s seat.
My mouth falls open, they aren’t letting me go in to change? “Here, now you’ll have socks,” Dante rattles off, already driving away. “You could have just asked one of us for socks.” He sounds slightly offended, like I did something wrong not asking him for socks.
Ignoring that I mutter, “I thought I’d be able to change there before school.” My eyes follow the sign for the restaurant as we speed away.
“Milo has to see the coach before school, sorry we’re in a hurry this morning, I didn’t think you’d mind wearing that to school since you don’t really dress up.” Dante’s words cut threw me, spoken so simply. He’s right, I don’t dress up. In fact, I make it a point to pick clothes that are as boring as possible, but showing up to school in sweatpants that are three sizes too big, with a shirt to match, will definitely not help me blend in. Everyone will notice I look like a clown.
“Oh my god.” My words are a horror filled exclamation. I can’t believe that’s what they think of me. No wonder they’re ashamed to admit I’m in their Infinity. If Dante thinks I would have no problem wearing this to school, he doesn’t know me at all—my blood starts to heat. Did he ever once think I dress the way I do because that’s all I can afford? I fist my hands, my nails biting into the soft flesh of my palms. I’m so angry I want to shout at him about the unfairness of his assumption. I seethe, my mouth pinched in a tight line, biting my tongue. Tears of unshed words prick at my eyes, but if I open my mouth I won’t be able to hold