genuine that it feels impossible. It’s impossible. My dad is not dying. He’s not. I refuse to believe it. “Please say it’s not true.” I’m sobbing now, and Zack’s trying to put an arm around me. I jerk away from him and stumble.
“Honey, please sit down,” Dad says softly, but I need a minute. I just need one minute. I turn and run across the courtyard, passing a smirking Harper as I go.
“Please say it’s not true,” she chortles as I sprint past.
My feet skid on the bricks, and I whirl around, tears streaming down my face.
“What did you just say?” I grind out, and Harper tosses her hair.
“You heard me: your dad’s dead without my family’s charity. Try to be a little grateful, bitch.” Red flashes across my vision, and before I can think better of it, I launch myself at Harper. My right fist flies forward and hits her in her pretty face. There’s a satisfying crack of cartilage before blood begins to pour from her nose.
I’ve just broken Rule #1: No Violence.
But … my dad …
“Charity!” a familiar voice calls out seconds before Zayd’s arms wrap around me from behind. I flail and struggle against him, throwing an elbow back that nails him right in the ribs. He grunts, but his tattooed arms stay tight around me. I hit him again and manage to break free before I’m launching myself at Harper and knocking her to the brick walkway.
“Marnye, stop!” Miranda and Kathleen Cabot appear with Creed close behind. He watches with that bored, lazy look of his as the two women yank me off and haul me back several feet. Harper pushes up to her feet, smirking, blood running over her lips. She looks happy about what’s just happened.
And then I realize the mistake I’ve made, and a small, sad sound slips past my lips.
“You are so done, Working Girl,” Harper crows, using the post near her to stay upright. I notice that nobody offers a hand out to her. My eyes dart around the gathered crowd, from Dad, Zack, and his mom, Robin, running up to us, and then over to Miranda, Kathleen, and Creed. Zayd is behind me, panting, his uniform as disheveled and wrinkled as always, his tie hanging loose and crooked. “I’m reporting you.”
Harper reaches up to rub some blood from her face.
“No, you will not,” Kathleen snaps, her voice so fierce that Harper’s attention snaps over to her. “There may not be an official report, but I know what you and your little friends did to Marnye last year. She had broken ribs and a cracked tooth. I’m not usually a supporter of an eye-for-an-eye justice, but young lady, if you don’t walk away and clean yourself up right now, you’ll be expelled right alongside her.”
Harper gapes, her attention going from Kathleen to Robin to Charlie, and then back to me.
“That’s true, Kathleen: it was Harper. Harper and several of her friends. I wouldn’t want to drag anyone else into this.” Pause, breathe, get control of yourself. “If you talk about my dad again,” I whisper, stepping forward so suddenly that Miranda doesn’t get a chance to stop me before I spit the words in Harper’s face, “you’ll be so fucking sorry.”
And then I throw Miranda’s hands off, push past Zayd and Creed, and disappear into the gardens.
The first person to find me is Zack.
I sigh as he comes around the corner, and stay where I am, huddled on a stone bench and hugging my knees. All I can think about is Dad and how good of a heart he has, and how the world needs more men like him, not less. No, instead people like Mr. Vanderbilt get to thrive and prosper, and Dad works his whole life at jobs he hates, loves a woman who betrayed him, and gets struck down with the most horrible disease known to man.
“I hate cancer,” I tell Zack as he sits down beside me, dressed in his uniform with his letterman jacket over the top. He looks too good in it; it’s not fair. I want to hate him, but I feel so alone right now. If Dad … without Dad … it’s just me. I should really go find Miranda and Andrew, talk to them instead. But I just sit there with Zack a few inches away from me, his brown eyes focused on the grass at his feet, his shoulders hunched. “This was the news you didn’t want to tell me