Page 39 of Once in a Lifetime, Part 2

One of the girls pushed her chair back and stood. “So you couldn’t help me, huh? You lying bitch.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You couldn’t even tell one simple lie for me. After everything I’ve done for you.”

“If this is about the—”

“It is,” she cut in. “Don’t even try to twist it.”

“I didn’t know you were planning to steal that necklace! The security guy asked me and I told him the truth.”

“And I’m supposed to believe that?” she snapped. “You just stood there and let them take me.”

“I didn’t—”

“Admit it,” she pushed, stepping closer. “You were glad it happened.”

Stella shook her head, her body pressing back against the chair. “That’s not true.”

“You’ve always been jealous of me,” the girl said, her voice rising. “Don’t lie about it.”

“No, I—”

Chairs scraped against the floor as the others stood. They closed in around her, the space shrinking with every step. Stella barely had time to react before hands were on her, pushing, grabbing, voices rising over each other.

“Hey, stop!” someone shouted from behind the bar. The bartender and waitress rushed in, pulling them apart.

Stella didn’t wait. She slipped free and ran out the door, down the street. She didn’t stop until her lungs burned. Only then did she slow, dragging the small mirror from her purse.

Cream still clung to her skin. Mascara smudged beneath her eyes. She stared at herself, as a tear slipped free.

She kept walking, aimless, her steps heavy, eyes fixed on the ground as people passed, glancing at her. By the time she reached her house, the streets had blurred into one long stretch of nothing. She fumbled with her keys, pushed the door open, and stepped inside.

She heard her mother’s voice from the living room. “Stella? Isn’t it a bit early? What happened? Did the party end—” She stopped mid-step when she saw her.

“I’m going to my room,” Stella almost whispered.

“What happened to you?” her mother asked, frowning.

Stella didn’t answer. She moved toward the stairs.

“You didn’t walk around like that, did you?”

Her father stepped out of his office, drawn by the voices. “Stella? What the hell happened to you?”

“I don’t want to talk. I’m going to my room.”

She had barely reached the first step when his hand closed around her arm, rough enough to stop her cold. “I asked you a question.”

“Did anyone see you like this?” her mother pressed from behind.

Stella let out a breath. “The whole of Athens saw me,” she said quietly. “They stared.” Her gaze lifted to them, her eyes glassy. “They laughed at the perfect daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Yorgeson.”

The slap came fast. Her head snapped to the side from the force. Her father pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, calmly wiping the cake from his hand.

“You should be ashamed of yourself,” her mother said. “After everything we’ve given you, this is how you embarrass us?”

Her father stepped forward. “Who do you think gives you this perfect life? The clothes, the house, everything you have?”