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“You be safe, Evie. And you begood.” The emphasis on the last word is unmistakable.
My mouth twists. “Yeah, Dad. Of course.”
I put the phone down without waiting for his reply. Now I remember why I haven’t phoned him yet. Because that’s what he does every time.
You be good.Like he’s telling me tobehavemyself.
This is all your fault.
I thump my head into the wall behind me repeatedly, eyes closed as I will that sour thought out of my mind.
All your fault. All your fault.
“Most kids around here are trying to get rid of their headaches, not give themselves a migraine.”
My eyes pop open, and I glare up at Owen. “For a big school like this, I sure run into you a lot. Are you following me?”
He cocks an eyebrow. “My apologies. Next time I’ll avoid the main hallways. Or maybe you should let me know in advance where you’re going so I can make sure this doesn’t happen again.”
Owen starts to walk past as I mutter, “As if I have any fucking clue where anything is.”
He hesitates a moment, and I will him to just keep walking. He backs up a few steps until he’s in front of me again. “You missed orientation.”
I throw up my hands. “No, Owen, I’m just sitting here hoping someone will toss a coin in my direction so I have some lunch money.”
He scans me up and down. “You look the part.”
I give him the finger. “Fuck you.”
“I mean, you could at least havetriedto tie your bow.”
I grab the strip of satin out of my blazer pocket. “This?” I rush to my feet, bundling up the soft fabric before shoving my fist into his chest. “Here. Take it. Since you’re so fucking obsessed with it.”
Then I’m stalking down the hall again, trying to ignore how full my bladder is.
“You’ll get a warning.”
I throw up my hands, refusing to look back at him. “Like I care?”
Despite how far I’ve gone, I can still hear him growl in frustration. “Evie!”
I ignore him. My furiously scanning eyes spot a bathroom sign up ahead.
Thank God.
I was about to burst.
As I reach for the bathroom handle Owen grabs my shoulder and spins me around to face him.
This is one of those days I should have stayed in bed. Hell, I could be back at the Walsh House right now, snoring away. Or in the kitchen downstairs with Kat, both of us crunching on cereal in our PJs or something.
But no, the universe is all like, “Fuck you, Evie Larsen. Here, have some more of this asshole you can’t stand.”
And here he is, in all his smug, arrogant, egotistical fucking glory.
So, I slap him.
Again.
