Page 91 of Defiant
I headed upstairs, to her room, finding that she stood before the full-length mirror in the corner, staring at herself as if she did not recognize the reflection staring back at her. She was touching her hair—it was rather long; it needed a cut soon.
“Hey, Mom,” I said, causing her to whirl and look at me.
Her eyes shook in confusion. “What…where is your father, Archer? Where is he? Why do I feel so…” She shook her head, two trembling hands moving to her face. “I don’t feel like myself anymore.”
I helped her to the bed, sitting her down. It was hard to watch someone you love become less and less like the person you remembered them as and more like a stranger wearing the same skin. It wasn’t a fate I would wish upon anyone.
“Dad…won’t be around for a little while,” I spoke softly. “But I’m going to take care of everything, okay? You don’t have to worry about anything.”
Mom smiled, but I could tell the smile was strained. “Oh, baby. You’re so grown up.” She ran a hand along my face, her voice shaking. “But you’re still so young. I don’t want you to worry about me, Archer. You need to live your life, too. Remember that.”
Her words made me smile, but I could feel the emotion warring inside me. Call me a pussy, call me gay, but I wanted to cry. I wanted to lean into my mom and have her hug me, tell me, promise me it was going to be alright, that everything would get better. That time would heal all wounds and this would soon be nothing more than a memory in the distant past.
That’s what I wanted to do, but instead I held it in, got up, kissed her cheek, and walked away.
I never did what I wanted. My life would never be like that, I knew. I had to deal with the shit life had thrown at me right now, feign a strength that would get me through.
This would not break me. I wouldn’t let it.
Chapter Twenty-Five – Jaz
Bobbi was meeting me at the dance. It was at some country club, go fucking figure. I had to get ready by myself, while simultaneously dodging the questions my mom threw at me about my date.
Okay, so I hadn’t told her I had two dates. Sue me.
As far as I knew, Vaughn was picking me up in one of his family’s cars. I had no idea if Dante would be with him already or if we’d pick him up after. Either way, no one was coming in the house to get me; I would be heading outside to meet them and hop in the car before my mom could whip out her phone and demand pictures.
I didn’t want pictures of this night. I didn’t want to remember today. Honestly, the only thing I wanted was for it to be over with.
I wasn’t looking forward to this dance. If this week had gone by and been just a typical Midpark week, I’d be all for it. I wanted to make that bitch Brittany pay, but after everything that had happened in the last seven days, how could I pretend that this was still all about me? That this was just me getting back at a girl who’d humiliated me and tried to do worse?
Ryan was in the hospital. His friends were dead. Archer’s family had been torn apart, and both Archer and Brittany thought I was the one behind it. They’d both be gunning for me worse than they had been before.
Who knew? Maybe Brittany was planning on sabotaging me at this dance, too. Maybe she had something up her sleeve to get back at me. It was quite possible I’d come to regret ever getting tangled up with Archer and her.
Hell, at this point, I regretted ever coming to Midpark. I should’ve told my mom that I didn’t want to go, fought harder to stay and graduate with the friends I’d had for years. I still had no clue why we had to drop everything and move like we were running from someone, but it didn’t matter. Not right now. How could I focus on my mom, on the fact that she’d lied about my dad, when things were spiraling so far out of my control?
My dress hung on a hanger on the outside of my closet. I’d already showered, already curled my hair and brushed it out into soft, gentle waves. Figured I’d pin some of it up after I did my makeup.
I decided on no necklace, preferring the simplicity of the black dress and the dark tights and heels I was pairing with it. I did pop in some earrings though, give myself a tiny bit of sparkle. The last part of my outfit would be my bejeweled slut jacket. Figured I’d own it…though not until I got outside of the house.
If my mom saw the state of that poor faux leather jacket, she’d have a fit. Plus, then she’d ask why it was labeled slut, so I’d have to explain shit to her.
Yeah, best to just avoid that entirely.
I didn’t do much in the way of makeup, but it still took me a while. I wanted to look good. No, better than good—I wanted to look like I wasn’t going to a high school dance but to a banquet being held by my worst enemies.
I wanted my looks to kill, everyone around me to stop and stare and wonder why they wrote me off from the beginning.
It was probably hoping for too much, considering these rich snobs didn’t give a shit about me one way or another, but I didn’t care. I couldn’t stop myself from wanting it.
All the while, I texted Bobbi. She sent me pictures of her progress, and I had to say, she was much better at this makeup thing than me. Then again, I supposed she did have years more practice than me, having grown up here. I was a cub, surrounded by beautiful lions who were ready to attack at any given moment.
Soon early dusk fell, and by that time I was ready to get changed. Mom had come up to check on me so many times. Ollie even stopped by, asked me if I needed anything else I didn’t have—I was pretty sure that was his way of offering to buy me something, but I shrugged him off. I might’ve used a stranger’s money to buy this dress, but that’s all the money I would accept.
I had my door closed when I changed out of my clothes, slipped on a lacy black pair of underwear and thin, dark tights. The dress came with pads in the chest, so I needed no bra. Thankfully, its form-fitting fabric had no zipper, so I was able to slip it on without anyone’s help. I didn’t have a full-length mirror, so I had to use the mirror on top of the dresser.
Once I slipped on my black heels, I gazed at myself in the mirror, proud of my simple yet elegant makeup job. Paired with the dress, I really did look older. Early twenties, maybe.
