Page 33 of Defiant
Her friend would probably get in trouble for helping, but frankly, I was kind of okay with it. Even if I got in trouble too, I’d be fine with it. That bitch could go fall in a ditch for all I cared.
“I didn’t even plan on going,” I said. Honestly, anytime the dance was talked about on the announcements, I tuned out. Getting all dolled up and going to a dance was the last thing I wanted to do right now, but I could make sacrifices. “I need to buy a ticket, get a dress—”
“This weekend I’m busy, but next weekend we can totally go,” Bobbi spoke, grinning, almost like she was thrilled at the prospect of shopping…like a normal girl, basically.
My friends and I used to go shopping, but we’d rarely come home with anything. It was more of a clearance-rack shopping trip than anything.
Hold up.
Where was I going to get the money for this impromptu shopping trip? I just shoved all the money I had left over in an envelope and put it in my mom’s purse, and I knew if I asked her outright for money to buy a dress—a dress that, around here, would cost more than double the dresses back home—she’d laugh in my face.
Plus, Mom wouldn’t want me going to a dance anyway, because there’d be boys there, and heaven forbid those things got close to me.
Maybe it was stupid, maybe I was only setting myself up to fail, but I found myself agreeing with Bobbi, telling her that we would indeed go dress shopping next weekend. She already had hers, apparently; it was just mine we’d get. I’d figure out the money situation later.
For now, singing.
Bobbi did her best to teach me, just as she’d been doing ever since Ms. Haber put her with me as a tutor of sorts. I at least knew the lyrics to the songs we were singing, so I was making progress. The whole pitch thing still tripped me up, but Bobbi was confident that, by the time the concert rolled around, I’d be fine.
I wasn’t so sure, but I guessed only time would tell.
Bobbi was gone when dinnertime rolled around, which was fine. Everything was moving fast, so I needed a break. I literally just needed to lay there in my bed and zone out. All this planning, constantly being ready to be at war with the entirety of Midpark, was draining.
Maybe I’d take a bath.
Mom and I ate dinner first. Oliver wasn’t home yet, which wasn’t so odd. He literally worked all hours of the day, but if this place was really as bad as Bobbi said, as unsafe as Vaughn and Jacob made it out to be, there were probably a lot of rich families that needed him to work on their cases.
Mom could not stop asking about Bobbi during dinner. It was kind of annoying, how much my mom clearly wanted me to make friends. It’d be easier for me to make friends if, I don’t know, we weren’t in a hoity-toity town full of rich bitches and cute bastards. Yeah, to make friends with most of these people was akin to lifting a knife to your own throat and holding it there. Bobbi was nice, and I liked her, but I still didn’t know whether I’d go so far as to call her a friend.
Even if, you know, she was helping me get back at Brittany in the best way—a way I would never have come up with on my own.
To steal her crown. It was a fun thought, and it was one I entertained as I dodged my mom’s questions during dinner.
Once dinner was over, I told her, “I think I’m going to take a bath.”
“That’s fine, honey.” Mom gave me a smile. “I really do hope you hang out with that girl again. She seemed nice. You should have a friend during your senior year.”
Of course, I wanted to tell her that I would have friends if she hadn’t uprooted me out of nowhere and forced us to move here shortly after my eighteenth birthday, but I kept that comment to myself.
I headed up the stairs, going to the bathroom I used, starting the water in the tub. I left the room, about to head to my bedroom to grab some pajamas to change into after the bath, but I stopped in the middle of the hallway, trying to listen.
My mom was still downstairs, Ollie still at work. I was alone up here, which meant I could do something I really shouldn’t.
I tiptoed to my mom’s room, finding her purse in the middle of a bunch of unfolded clothes on her dresser, exactly where it was in the morning. My mom might be in charge of keeping the house clean, but when it came to her room, she was still the mother I knew from before, having hardly a care in the world.
I shouldn’t do what I was about to do; my mom’s van was more important than a stupid dress, but the urge to get back at that bitch clouded out my judgment, so I did the one thing I shouldn’t. I reached into her purse, found the untouched envelope with the cash in it, and tucked it into the waistband of my jeans. A sense of alarm filled me, and it did not disappear until I made it to my room, was able to close the door—and lock it—and stashed the envelope back under my bed.
I felt awful, really. A bit selfish, but for the first time in my life, I wanted to do something. I wanted to be selfish, to rock a pretty dress and get back at the bitch who saw fit to make a fool out of me. And maybe to drug me. The blame for that went both on Brittany’s back and Archer’s.
In the beginning, Archer hadn’t seemed like a bad guy, so I did wonder if he knew the extent of it all. Would that make what he did any better? I didn’t know the answer.
I made it back to the bathroom, my mind racing. The whole purpose of taking a bath was to relieve some stress and not have my thoughts fighting for dominance in my head. To let me lay back in the warm water, close my eyes, and temporarily try to forget all of the shit that had risen up in my life recently.
Because that’s what it was—a shitstorm of epic proportions.
After shutting the door, I started to shed my clothes, piece by piece until I stood there, naked. My pants made a loud sound as they fell onto the tiled floor; my phone sat in my back pocket, tempting me to use it. To talk to the one boy I shouldn’t.
Here’s a hint: I didn’t have Vaughn’s number. The only guy whose number I had was Archer’s, and I really shouldn’t think about texting him.
