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“You decide. Do you wanna leave things as they are, or do you wanna fix it and give yourself a chance to see what could happen?”
For someone who used to be so self-involved, McCoy had really come through for me. The things he said gave me a lot to think about. I always knew I didn’t have much time with Isabelle, but I’d figured we would work out what to do next when it was time for me to leave. My sensible side told me that, if we were fighting already, there probably wasn’t a lot of hope for us. Sensible was what I’d always been. And if Isabelle put Georgia before me over something so big, could I really count on her any other time?
Chapter Sixteen – He Was Like Kaa
Isabelle
“Mischa, stop!”
Those were the last words I wanted to hear, but Georgia screamed them as I walked towards the bus stop. I forced myself to keep moving but I could hear footsteps behind me, fast and heavy. In the late afternoon cold, the street wasn’t nearly as busy as usual, but still busy enough that I didn’t expect to be yanked backwards as Mischa grabbed at my bag. The strap dug hard into the side of my neck and furious, I spun around.
She looked possessed. Her eyes were wide and flashing with hostility, and her red hair whipped around her face in the wind, adding to her crazed appearance.
“Listen, you interfering bitch,” Mischa hissed, shoving me backwards into the low wall behind me, “I know you’re upset that your little boyfriend got drugged, but if you tell anyone I had anything to do with it, I will make your life hell.”
Nobody bothered to stop to check if I was okay, not that I could blame them. I doubt I’d have been too eager to get in the middle of a college girl scrap if I’d had the choice. Georgia reached us, breathless from running against the biting wind, but all I could think about was the burning sensation on my neck where my bag strap had cut into me. I touched the painful spot, and was glad to see she hadn’t drawn blood, but I was sure it would leave a mark. Tears sprang to my eyes, partly from pain, partly from shock, but mostly from anger.
“Aren’t you going to say anything?” Mischa asked, getting right up in my face.
“Mischa, back off!” Georgia said, trying to pull her away.
She stood firm, and I straightened up. “If anyone is in a position to give out threats, it’s me.”
“Big talk. But know this, if you’re going to tell anyone what I did, I’m taking Georgia down with me. Do you really want that on your conscience?”
I glanced over Mischa’s shoulder at Georgia, who was, once again, shaking. It was only because of her that I hadn’t gone to the police yet, but Mischa was seriously underestimating my rage levels, and trying to guilt me in to staying quiet was only making things worse.
“Am I supposed to be afraid of you now?” I asked. “Knowing that you might slip something in my drink to teach me a lesson?”
“You should be afraid,” Mischa said, her voice lowering menacingly.
I think she intended for me to feel intimidated, but she still didn’t seem to grasp that I was the one in the powerful position, and the more she threatened me, the closer she was pushing me to report her.
“Have you finished?” I asked.
At my lack of fear, she raised her fist, but Georgia grabbed her arm and pulled her away.
“What are you doing?” she snapped, as people continued to walk by as if they couldn’t see us.
Mischa spun around to look at her. “She’s going to grass us up!”
“So, you thought you’d hit her so she can add assault to your list of convictions? She is my sister, and you don’t get to treat her that way.”
Georgia wasn’t the only one who was shaking. Misha had lifted her hand so quickly, if Georgia hasn’t reacted so fast, I’d likely have ended up in A&E with a broken nose. I rearranged my bag on my shoulder, and without a word, continued to the bus stop, trying to ignore the tears burning my eyes and the stinging on my neck.
The three of us stood in a pissed off silence at the bus stop and throughout the journey. When we got off, I really hoped Willow would be at my house after her date with Hunter. I needed someone to talk to who wasn’t related to me, and who would give me real, honest advice about what to do. I couldn’t stand the idea of getting Georgia into trouble, even if she had been an idiot. At least she was genuinely sorry about her part in it. All Mischa cared about was her parents not finding out so they wouldn’t ban her from having other parties.
For unknown reasons, Mischa came back to the house with us, and as I opened the front door, I said, “You’re not welcome here.”
Mischa flicked her eyes towards Georgia. “Am
I welcome?”
When I turned my attention to my sister too, she sighed, “Whatever. You decide between yourselves.”
“Why do you even want to come in anyway?” I asked. “It’s not like you’re going to apologise to Jesse for what you did. Or did you just want to have a look at the damage?”
“Get over it. It’s done now, there’s nothing anyone can do about it.”
