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“It was funny when Chloe said it about you.”
“Nope, not funny. You were just glad someone else was finally getting tortured instead of you.” I turn to rinse my mug in the sink and place it on the drying rack.
“Fine, but still...You’ve got to admit they could have been stealthier.”
Spinning back around, I shut my eyes. “Says the girl who got caught with her boyfriend’s head up her dress by his sister.”
Nattie laughs. “We’re kind of an incestuous little bunch, aren’t we?”
“I guess we kind of are.”
* * *
Later that morning, the wind whips against my face as I rush across campus for my Social Psychology class. My earbuds are tucked snugly in my ears with my favorite true crime podcast playing when a beeping alerts me to an incoming call. My first mistake was answering it without checking to see who it was.
“Sabrina, it’s your mother. Do not hang up on me.”
My second mistake was not hanging up.
“Are you there?”
I stop walking and contemplate hanging up on her. Years of being groomed in social graces forces me to answer her. “What do you want, Mother?”
“I need you to come to the house tonight so we can discuss what you thought you saw and heard Saturday evening.”
“No.” There is no hesitation in my voice.
“I’m sorry, did you think that was a question?” Her tone has gone from friendly to fierce in a flash. “I am ordering you home. If you want to continue to live the cushy life you are accustomed to, you will come home tonight to discuss the temper tantrum you threw this weekend.”
“Temper tantrum?” I realize how loudly I said that when I scan the sidewalk and see that people have stopped and are now staring at me. Lowering my voice, I continue walking and answer my mother as calmly as I can. “I’m not ready to speak to you, Mother. Do whatever you want, but I’m not coming home.”
“Sabrina—” She doesn’t get to finish that sentence because I end the call.
I don’t make it another ten feet before my phone rings again. This time I check the name before I answer.
Shit. It’s Annabelle.
“Hey, Belles. What’s up?”
“You told Nattie?” Great. Somebody else who wants to be pissed at me today.
“I did not. She knew. Come on, Belles, get real. We all knew. You were wearing his clothes.”
“Yeah, well. She called me out on it a few minutes ago. I texted her to let her know I could cover her class if she needed me to tonight, and the little brat asked if I was sure I wouldn’t be too busy with Declan.”
“That’s not calling you out, Belles.” I duck into Kroydon Hall and down the steps to my class. Standing next to the door, I let Belle’s finish her amusing rant.
“It sure freaking feels like it. Then she asked me if we got married, would that make her Tommy’s aunt.” She laughs, but it sounds slightly manic. “But it doesn’t end there. When I told her it was a one-time-only thing, she asked me why her brother wasn’t good enough for me.”
When I start laughing, Annabelle yells at me, “Sabrina! This is not funny. She’s going to torture me with this forever.”
“There are worse things to be tortured over, Belles. I’ve gotta go. I’ve got class. Talk later.”
I wish I could just climb back in Murphy’s bed and ignore the world today.
