The Initial Insult - Mindy McGinnis Page 0,78
someone could convince him to drop the alpha act—”
“No,” Tress interrupts me. “He can’t. When the pack senses a weakness in their leader, they take him down. He knows that. I know that. You know that.”
I guess I do, which is why I feel a little gut twinge of joy whenever someone takes a cut at Gretchen, why I’ve got a couple of embarrassing pics of her on my phone, for whenever the day comes that I’m tired of her telling me what to do. If it comes. Following is easier than leading.
“You’re both alphas,” I say, understanding. “You and Hugh. It would never work.”
She stops spinning the trowel, refocusing her thoughts.
“You finally ditch him?” she asks. “Patrick?”
“Yeah,” I tell her, nodding. My head feels like a water balloon, too heavy. It rolls oddly, off to one side. I try to focus on the bricks, try to count them, see how high the rows are. I don’t know, anymore. Higher than before, that’s all I can say for sure. Math is hard when you’ve got a concussion and major blood loss plus are still slightly high and maybe a little drunk.
I open my eyes. What were we talking about? Oh yeah, Patrick.
“He went to college and majored in extracurricular activities,” I tell Tress.
“Cheaters gonna cheat,” Tress says. Her eyes have gone a little blank, and she’s fixated on the floor, where her blood is starting to pool as it drips from the tips of her fingers.
Cheaters gonna cheat. . . .
Chapter 64
Tress
“Cheaters gonna cheat,” I say. “Liars gonna lie. Haters gonna hate.”
My mind is wandering, leaving the area as my blood leaks out, the point being lost. Lost like my parents. Lost like my dog.
Goldie-Dog.
I pull out my phone and show her the picture.
It’s not the sign that got to me, when I spotted it on Brynn’s phone. Or the smiling faces in front of it. It’s Goldie-Dog. My dog, leaning into Felicity, her tongue lolling out, happy to see someone she knows. Someone she remembers. Someone she loves.
Chapter 65
Felicity
Cheaters gonna cheat. . . .
It’s echoing in my head, bouncing off my skull, the hard truth of what I know needing to escape, find a new home inside Tress’s mind. I can’t focus, can’t process what she’s holding in front of me . . . a phone . . . a picture . . . I squint, wanting to do something right. Wanting to please Tress.
Shit.
I’d like to say I don’t recognize that person, don’t know who the girl is posing with Gretchen and David in front of Tress’s trailer out in the middle of nowhere, cheeks red from drinking . . . but not as red as the words we’d sprayed on the sign behind us.
WHITE TRASH ZOO
And beside us, Goldie-Dog, my arm looped over her, her tongue out, happy.
There’s nothing I can say, no defense for what happened. All I can do is be silent and take whatever punishment Tress feels is acceptable. I don’t know how to explain that I was trying to find her again, trying to recapture the Tress I knew. But the Tress I remember is gone. The one I know now is standing before me, staring me down, a wild animal loose from its cage.
The Tress Montor I created.
Chapter 66
Tress
It’s clear on Felicity’s face—I just took everything from her. Any pretense of being a friend, or even a decent person. That’s gone now.
It feels good. It’s nice to be the one taking. There’s a jolt of adrenaline in my veins, chemicals and fibers of duct tape and whatever is left of my blood all coursing through me, pushing me forward. To the inevitable end.
“Tell me how my dog died,” I say, my parents now a faint echo, a memory from long before. Goldie’s still fresh. I don’t need to poke that wound to make it bleed.
“Tell me how the last thing from my old life was eaten by an alligator.”
I put the phone in my pocket and reach for the mortar pail.
“Tell me what you did, Felicity.”
Chapter 67
Felicity
Senior Year
Being in the passenger seat of your own car is weird. I don’t think I’ve ever been here before. Where have I been, lately? Where was I tonight? Earlier?
I focus on the dash, the backlit numbers, trying to make sense of them. Two in the morning. It’s two in the morning and I am incredibly fucked-up and David probably shouldn’t be driving and Gretchen is in the back seat, her face pressed against the window,