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“Wait,” Madi says a little louder. “What the actual fuck, Ada? You can’t just tell the bare minimum of that story. Are you talking about that piece of shit she was with before we—”
She cuts herself off, fearing she’s crossed some invisible line, but it’s clear where she’s going.
“Before we fell out?” I finish for her. “Yeah. He’s sort of the reason behind that, in a nutshell. What he did is why I pushed you away. Honestly, it wasn’t until I got here, until I met Rinya, that I realized I should have leaned on you instead of pushing you away.”
“He didn’t—Did he—Oh my god, Ada,” she fires in rapid succession. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Embarrassment?” I speculate. “Shame? I was angry, and I needed time to process.”
She nods, though her nostrils flare. “He’s dead now?”
“Has been since we were fifteen,” I divulge.
“Jesus,” she whispers, swiping furious tears away from her lashes.
Rin chews at her lip. “How did I make you realize you should have leaned on Madigan?”
“You leaned on the guys,” I emphasize, trying not to tell any of her story. “I should have leaned on Madi. She was all I had.”
“Other than your dad,” Madigan supplies. “But he would have gone to jail for torturing that scumbag.”
I cringe at the truth in her statement. “I never told him.”
Madi scrubs at her tear-stained cheeks. “I don’t even know what to say. I mean, I’m so pissed you didn’t tell me because I would have helped you. And your dad? I could have been there. Should have been there for you.”
“Hindsight is like that…” I murmur, smiling sadly. “If I would have told you, we wouldn’t be here.”
She scoffs. “That’s not saying a lot for me.”
“It will, though,” Rin tells her, the guard’s confidence unwavering. “My dad says that sometimes we have to dig through shit to find gold.”
“When did he get here?” Madi curiously asks, trying to settle her emotions.
“The seventies on Earth?” Rin answers, though it sounds more like a question.
“Oh, he’s totally talking about shrooms,” Madigan informs us, but Rinya doesn’t seem to understand what she means.
I sip my cold tea, having completely forgotten about the fruity brew. “Probably, but the point still stands.”
Madi glances around, suddenly aware of all the attention we’ve drawn. “Hey, remember that time you stayed the night, and we drank my mom’s wine coolers?”
“Ugh,” I groan. “I wish I could forget.”
“It wasn’t that bad,” she insists.
“I was so sick when I got home,” I complain. “I still haven’t had a hangover that bad.”
Madigan laughs lightly. “Yeah, but we had so much fun.”
“Fun?” I repeat, her definition nauseating me. “I thought I was dying.”
“You’re being dramatic,” she claims. “You had a headache.”
“I threw up in my dad’s lap,” I hiss, covering my face. “It was mortifying.”
Madi leans across the table toward us. “Have you noticed all the people staring? Or am I reading too much into this?”
“We’ve noticed,” I tell her.
