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Okay, Cleo, you can do this. This is just like mopping up any regular mess.
Biting my lip, I come down to my knees. The floor hits me hard even though I was anticipating it. My tray’s empty now so I leave it next to me and get to work.
I spread the napkin over the puddle and hear chuckles from up above.
But I don’t focus on that. It was never about their chuckles or insults or sneering. It was always about him.
The guy who wouldn’t do anything to stop it. Like now.
I get the napkin to soak up the worst of it and then mop off the rest with the dry corner of it. My knuckles hit the pointed end of his shoes and I’m thrown back to the day when I found my books torn up and scattered in the hallway.
A twelve-year-old Zach came up to me on that day as well. I saw him, shoes first. He stepped on the pages and when I looked up, he smirked down at me.
He was so cruel that day, the boy I’d fallen in love with at first sight.
Tonight too, as I look up, I find him staring at me. But instead of smirking, his face is blank, and his gaze is burning.
Maybe he’s remembering that day from long ago, too. Or maybe he’s thinking about how I bathed him yesterday and how I sat on my heels and took him in my mouth, loving him.
He looked like a prince then, and he looks like one now.
I probably look the same too.
The lowly maid who serves him.
Slowly, I stand up, leaving the soiled napkin on the tray. “You were lying.”
There’s no indication on his face that he heard me but I know he did. I also know that he can hear my broken heartbeats.
“You’re not mine, are you? You never were.”
At this, his jaw clenches.
His eyes blaze and I’m doused with so much heat that I feel steam rising from my skin. I don’t expect an answer from him. But he gives me one anyway.
“But you’re mine, aren’t you?”
I can’t read his tone. The tone of the very first words he’s spoken to me all night. Is it condescending? Insulting?
Is it disbelief?
Whatever it is. I’m going to tell him the truth.
I nod. “Stupidly.”
“Stupidly,” he agrees.
“And I’m done proving that.”
I step back and take in the open mouths of all his minions. Sighing, I put my hands on my waist.
Then, I smile.
“Ashley, thanks for the re-introductions.” I bend down and take off my Mary Janes, one at a time. “But it was totally not needed. I remember who you are. I remember all of you. You’re the people who’ll never amount to anything. You never did back at St. Patrick’s and you don’t now. Oh, and I also call you minions of the anti-Christ, in my head. Anti-Christ being Zach.”
I address Samantha and wave at my boobs. “So these… are called boobs. It’s hard to know what they are when you don’t have them yourself.” I unbutton the top two buttons as I keep talking. “But I’m sure if you ask your daddy nicely, he’ll buy you a pair.”
To Rob, Chase and Alex, I say, “Stop being pervs and stop hitting on the maids. Guys like you grow old to be the kind of creepy middle-aged men who force me to use the itching powder. You don’t want me to use the itching powder on you, do you?”
They stare at me wide-eyed.
Finally, I turn to Zach.
Looking him in the eyes, I unbraid my hair. Slowly, methodically. With every knot that comes out, I feel like I can breathe again.
Once I’m done letting my hair loose, I give it a shake and throw him a tight smile. “I quit. Oh, and,” I turn to a shocked Ashley. “the way you’re rubbing onto Zach’s arm? That’s not going to work. He likes his girls curvier with bigger tits. You know, someone like me.”
With that, I spin around and leave the ballroom, barefoot, with my long blue hair swinging against my back.
When I reach the exit, I spy a lonely glass of champagne and throw it back.
I might be a little bit in shock because I don’t feel an ounce of regret. No regrets. Not one.
I’m not going to get my house back, and well, I don’t want it. It’s not going to bring back my parents and I have to cut ties some time.
I have to go find… life.
As I walk down the hallway, I decide that I’m going to take that road trip. I swear to God. No more excuses.
So what if no one knows my name out there? So what if I’m alone? I have myself and I have my blue car.
I’m walking down the hallway and I pass by a room when I hear a crash – not the kind of violent crash I heard back in Zach’s room last night but still. It’s a crack, I think. Because it’s followed by a whimper.
