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“Fire. Rumour has it she was lusting after some dirty old man, and when he told her he wasn’t interested, she burned down half his garden.”
I swallowed. She was right about the fire, but the rest of her summary couldn’t have been further from the truth. The minute Jeff moved in and showed his true colours, I started hanging out at a neighbour’s house. He was older, fairly good-looking, somewhat reclusive. No one really knew he existed, which was great for me. I hid out in his artist’s studio, inhaling the smell of art supplies and the sound of quiet. Quiet was rare in south London. He started getting too friendly but by that time, home had become repellent and I had nowhere else to go. Sure, half his garden did burn down eventually, taking him with it. But it had nothing to do with me.
“Euwww. An old guy?”
The arched brow lifted Penelope’s voice. “Uh huh. He rejected her and paid the price. But the scars areherpunishment.”
I flicked my gaze back to the mirror just in time to catch her glide a hand over her view of my form.
“She’s repellent. Never had a boyfriend, and doubt she’ll ever have one, not with scars like that. She’ll forever be a virgin.”
“She’s avirgin?” Whomever asked the question made it sound like the worst condition to ever be inflicted on a human of consenting age.
“The impurest.” Penelope lifted a cocktail to her lips and glared at my reflection.
I kept my own expression neutral but didn’t force it away. I was overcome with morbid curiosity. How did someone get off being so cruel? What gave her the right to openly criticise and lie about me like that? What made it okay? The one consolation I had was I need never cross her path in the hallowed halls of college again. Rumour had it, she was bound for St. Martin’s College to study fashion, whereas I would be taking myself as far away from London as I could go.
“What can I get you?” The bartender’s question made me jump.
“Three beers and a cider please.”
“Pints or halves?”
“Pints,” I replied, my gaze darting back to the mirror where it met with Penelope’s.
“Yeah, the only way she’ll ever get laid is if she pays someone to do it with her.”
For the first time in two years, I noticed her eyes weren’t solely brown; they were flecked with green. And right then, the green glowed like radioactive slime. I swiped a thumb across my phone screen and quickly tapped a message to Remi.Changed my mind. Can u give me a hand?
“Better yet, she’ll have to sell herself.”
The crony half-gasped, half-laughed, oblivious to the fact I could hear everything.
“On the street? Like a hooker?”
“Yeah, why not?” Penelope’s eyes narrowed, glee dancing on her lashes. “Or, you know, there are websites that let you sell your virginity to the highest bidder.”
“Like… V-Bay?”
A scathing laugh erupted around the table. “Exactly. Not that she’d fetch much. But something’s better than nothing when you’re that ugly and deformed.”
I took in my own reflection again. I wasn’t classically pretty but I wasn’t ugly either. My shoulder-length strawberry blonde hair carried a few curls and my pale green eyes shone occasionally like glass, in the right light. I had two large front teeth which Mum would never let me fix because she thought they made me look like Brigitte Bardot, and despite being shorter than average, my curves were reasonably well-proportioned.
Penelope’s words were pure spite and wholly untrue, but that didn’t mean they weren’t capable of penetrating just a little of my skin. My fair face was make-up-free, unblemished and made no obvious attempt to stand out; my hair was pulled back, neat and tame. Nothing about me screamed for attention or snidery, yet somehow I attracted it anyway.
My scars had always embarrassed me, but nothing –nothing– made me cower and tremble like the fear of being disliked. I’d hoped the last two years would have vaccinated me against it, but the shame was as raw as ever. I sizzled with anxiety, even though Penelope was several feet away and posed no physical threat.
My shoulder warmed as Remi approached and I handed the bartender a twenty.
“Why is she glaring at you?” Remi whispered. “Did you say something to her?”
I noted the bartender’s nonchalant appraisal of me as I pocketed the change, then picked up one of the pints and faced my best friend. “Not yet.”
“Not y—? What are you doing?”
“Give my apologies to the others,” I said, swallowing the shakiness in my voice. “I’ll call you later.”
I left Remi standing with three pints and a quizzical brow as I strode in the direction of Penelope’s table. No matter how hard I tried, or how dedicated I was to avoiding her, I would never get this girl to like me. The narrow of her eyes widened as I approached, and her lips pursed.
