Bitter Kisses (It's Just High School #3) - Thandiwe Mpofu Page 0,20

year?”

I cringe internally, hating the awkwardness that has formed between us.

I don’t know what to think or how to feel about Nicky right now and she obviously doesn’t know what to do with my silence bordering on depression.

The truth is, she doesn’t know what to do with me at all. I have no idea what to do with myself either so in that, we at least agree.

“Yeah.”

Silence.

From the corner of my eye, I see her opening her mouth to say something but closes it and the motion goes on three more times, making her look like a fish out of water.

“That’s good my love,” she says softly after a while and that almost breaks me.

I want to turn around and let lose all the damn of sobs I’m holding back, but I don’t.

No feelings.

I tuck in my shirt in my senior skirt. Seniors at Clintwood Academy have a different, more sparkly, attractive uniform. Just another way to show we’re the best and I was at the topic of a blazing scandal. I’ll be standing out like a fucking bleeding unicorn in the middle of the Sahara Desert. What could possibly go wrong?

“Yeah,” I whisper. “It’s good.” Just fucking good.

Nicky sighs, tired of my one-worded responses.

“Come on, Mia sweetheart,” she says sadly. “You really don’t have to go if you don’t want to.”

“I’m going,” I grit out harshly. “We’ve already been over this already.”

And we have. In great detail. Over and fucking over again.

“I know we did, but Mia, with everything that’s going on, with the…” she trails off awkwardly and I shoot her a look through the mirror.

“You can say it, you know,” I murmur. It’s not like it will change anything. It happened. I was thrust in a circle of hell and the one person I thought would hold my hand through it, trust me enough to believe the truth, failed me and broke my heart after we confessed out love for each other. “Go on, Nicky, you can say it. I’m a big girl now.” Old enough to be considered a moneymaking machine that can be sold off to the highest bidder, unfortunately.

“I don’t want to tell you…”

“You don’t want to tell me that maybe I shouldn’t go to school today because everyone in town will be looking at me with dirty glances, cursing my name to hell and back over how I’m a slutty whore who lied and put all the blame on Palos Verdes’, hell, California’s, sexy god and football star, putting him in jail and now going through the trial of the fucking century?” I blink at her, a fake sad and jagged smile on my face. “Is that what you wanted to say, Nicky?”

She flinches, looking away.

I think it hurts her when I say her name, but I don’t think I’m ready to call her mom or even mother. Especially after Nancy died in front of me, and Jesus, let’s not forget how I caused that.

Nicky clears her throat, tugging down her peach cashmere sweater. I’m not sure about her current relationship or fucked up engagement status between her and John, Julian’s father, but she seems to still be living her best life.

“Well, I only want to make sure that you’re, uh, as comfortable as possible and ready to face the storm,” Nicky says, looking anywhere but at me.

I’m not. Not even close but I can’t tell her that.

I can’t tell her how after two weeks of trying to get in touch with Julian, calling him, texting him, trying see him at every chance—when he was in jail and then released on bail—but the static silence and cold brush off was so obvious, a blind man could see I was not wanted anymore. And God knows I can’t tell her how I basically broke down because of that.

“It’s not a storm, Nicky, it’s a call for my death like some kind of witch hunt,” I sigh, grabbing my necktie and blazer. “And honestly, there’s nothing I can do to change the narrative against me.”

“You don’t know that they’re against you.”

I shoot her a get real stare. I’ve been online. I’ve seen the hashtags #IceQueenLiar or #MoneyHungryWhore and my favorite #FitzTrash. And judging by the look on her face, she’s seen it all too.

“No matter what I do, they’re still going to talk, whether they know the truth or not,” I say, wearing the rest of my uniform with short, wooden movements. “The last thing I need is to hide out like a coward, it