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I don’t want to be rude and say no, but I can’t agree right now. The idea of going to a party makes my skin crawl. Men, alcohol, sex, it’s the perfect combination for mass chaos.
“I don’t know.”
“I’m sure Clark will come with us. I don’t see him not going. He’s smitten by you.”
Ha, if only she knew what I saw a short while ago. He’s not smitten by me, and even if he was it wouldn’t matter. It’s never going to happen. We hardly know each other. And I don’t date, and from the sounds of it neither does he.
“I’ll think about it, okay?” I don’t want to be rude and tell her I won’t come at all, but I’m pretty sure I’m not going to change my mind about it.
The rest of our coffee date we spend talking about less nerve-wracking subjects, like teachers, classes and the best places to eat around here. We exchange numbers, and with a quick glance at my phone, I notice that we’ve been sitting here for well over an hour.
“If you need anything, a friend to talk to, someone to have coffee with, or even if you want to hang out, I’ll gladly volunteer.”
“Thank you, Ava, we need to meet up again,” I tell her, even though I’m not sure that we will. This all happened by happenstance, and well I was glad to have the distraction I know I’ll have to face Clark eventually.
“We will meet up again,” she says, oozing confidence. Wrapping me up in her arms, she gives me a tight squeeze before releasing me. Then we part ways her heading to a class across campus while I head to my abnormal psychology class. Maybe I’ll learn something about myself there.
I recall Clark mentioning something about it being the building next to a giant statue of a wild cat, the university’s mascot. Walking with my head down, I try and stay out of everyone’s way. My phone chimes in my pocket and I pull it out looking down at. It’s a text from my father. My fingers tremble as I enter the code on my phone and open the text.
It reads: Call me. We need to talk.
I can feel the anger in the typed out words. Why wouldn’t he just call me himself? Because he knows how much you hate doing something he wants you to do. Gritting my teeth, I shove my phone into my pocket and continue down the sidewalk. I’ll respond to him later. Forcing myself to look up and straight ahead, I see the statue Clark told me about and almost break out into a happy dance.
I’m so proud of myself. Entering the building, I read the class numbers off inside my head as I pass the doors. 301, 302, 303… ding, ding. The door to the classroom is open, so I walk in. Of course there are already a few fellow students in their seats, getting their books and whatever else they need out. Moving like a shadow, I try and find a seat in the back of the room but close to the door so if I need to escape, I can do so unnoticed.
My ass hasn’t even hit the chair yet when I see her… the blonde Barbie-like girl that was kissing Clark earlier. She’s pretty. Prettier than me by a long shot and I wish I had even a sliver of the confidence she has. Her gaze sweeps around the room as if she’s looking for someone, soft feminine laughter falling from her lips. Ignoring her presence altogether, I start to tug my books out of my bag and set them on the table in front of me.
They start walking toward me, and my stomach tightens, a boulder of anxiety rolling around inside of it.
“Don’t sit over there, Claudia. She’s garbage.” The Claudia chick giggles, but doesn’t listen to her friend. In fact, she slips farther down the row until she’s in the seat directly in front of me. This is going to be bad. I can already tell.
Blondie follows because where one sheep goes, they all go.
“Seriously? I don’t want to sit next to trash, let’s move,” the blonde sneers, her eyes like daggers as they rake over my face. I should be hurt by her words, after all, she’s calling me trash but I’m not. I’m more insulted by the fact that Clark would kiss someone as disgusting as her. It’s obvious she has a rock for a heart.
“Shut up Holly, even garbage needs a friend. Plus, she needs to be warned about Clark. Not that I think he would ever dip his dick inside her.” Claudia’s eyes rake over my clothing, assessing me. I know what she sees, what they all see.
An ugly girl drowning in her clothing, hiding, but they have no idea the secrets that I’m keeping, the pain I’ve endured. I’m silently suffering, alone, but I would never wish for them to endure all that I have.
