Page 51 of Driftwood Daffodil 2

Dear god he was one of them.

Atlee shrugged at the look I was giving him. “I have two sisters.”

Did I know that? I feel like I did. I met Kendall–who could forget her–but I wasn’t sure if I knew about the other one. Was there another specimen of human perfection walking around these halls? I don’t know what the Fiore’s were eating, but whatever it was, it put them on a level above everyone else. Even Atlee’s dad was hot. I kind of hated them all.

“Let me guess, your mom’s a supermodel?”

I must’ve touched on a sore subject because the muscle in Atlee’s jaw tensed. “No, she’s a whore.”

Did he mean like a literal whore, because that would be oddly fitting.

“Okay, when you say whore…”

“I mean she is a waste of skin that a starving cannibal wouldn’t feed to his dog.”

Wow, that was oddly graphic. “I take it, you're not close.”

The look he gave me rivaled the ones Gio had when he was attempting to strangle me. I was curious about what his mother did to make him hate her so much, but I let it go.

He did not.

The only thing more unnerving than having random people talk to me all day, was standing next to a quiet Atlee Fiore. The spark that was normally lighting up his eyes dulled, while he stared down at the recipe card on our counter. I kind of felt bad.

If anyone understood the effects of bad parenting, it was me. All I remember about my father was that cold stare. And my mother…

“My mother was a drunk.” I wanted Atlee to know he wasn’t alone. “She used to fall asleep on the couch with lit cigarettes in her hand.”

Kato said she was just heartbroken over losing our dad, but I always thought it was more than that. She was sad all the time.

Atlee looked over at me. “Did she kill your baby brother?”

“Ah, no?”

“Then I win.”

Yeah, I couldn’t top that one.

Atlee didn’t say much after that, and I wasn’t about to get him to open up more.

The first part of class passed by fairly quietly, which made things feel awkward. The jokes and zest for life that usually followed Atlee around was gone. He didn’t even smile while we mixed ingredients. It wasn’t the same as when other people went silent.

Atlee wasn’t thinking, or empty, or wanting to be left alone. The only word I could use to describe it was dangerous. Just standing beside him sent a chill up my spine. I felt sorry for anyone who encountered this version of Atlee Fiore.

So, I did what I did best. I channeled my inner pain in the ass and chucked a handful of flour at him.

Atlee coughed and waved away the white cloud. “What the hell?”

“Hey, I’m just trying to help soak up some of the skank I’m sure is on you… everywhere.”

I’d seen him go in a room with some girl earlier today so, it wasn’t a complete lie. And flour was fairly absorbent. I may need to throw a handful on a couple of other parts? Just to be sure, I dunked my hand in the flour bag and chucked some more at him.

I was slightly disappointed that most of the flour hit his shirt this time, but I did enjoy the puff of powder on his black pants. So much so that I may have chuckled when Atlee started swiping it off the fabric. He didn’t look so perfect now.

“Oh, you think that’s funny?”

“I mean…”

Next thing I knew, a cloud of white exploded in my face. Let me just say, flour and breathing did not mix. I had to cough through my next couple of breaths, but that bright spark was back in Atlee’s eyes. So my mission was accomplished.

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