Page 11 of This Loving Feeling (Mirror Lake)

“Let’s continue this in the office,” Principal Malone said.

What had happened to the photo?

She was left to wait side by side with Monique in the two Chairs of Judgment in front of Mr.Malone’s desk. Sam imagined Principal Malone calling Brad at that very moment, and the look on his face when he would walk in and see her like this.

“Don’t say anything and you’ll get the portfolio back,” Monique whispered. “I’d really hate for someone innocent and powerless like Amy’s sister to suffer.”

Sam pretended she didn’t hear. Yet the awful truth dawned. If her parents’ dying when she was just five hadn’t already taught Sam that life wasn’t fair, this moment drove that hard lesson home. There would be no justice for the crime. At least not now, and not for her.

The rest of what happened was a blur. Brad showed up, and his concern soon faded to an uneasy disappointment that lingered for months.

When Mr.Malone asked why she did it, she refused to answer. Monique said Sam was jealous about Reggie Reid not wanting to date her, and Sam didn’t bother correcting her.

“I’m sorry, Sam,” Principal Malone said, “but the rules are very clear about physical altercations. I’m going to have to suspend you.” He looked over at Monique, who wore a smug grin. “Bothof you.”

“What the hell were you thinking?” Brad asked as he drove her home. As predicted, he’d waited until they were in the car to lose his cool. She could tell all through the painful meeting, he looked like he was about to pop a gasket. He’d been called away from one of his three jobs to get her at school and he was royally pissed. “I thought I taught you better.”

Sam had tried her best not to cry, but now she couldn’t seem to stop.

The crying probably made Brad calm down a bit, because his voice took on a gentle edge. “Is there something else going on that you’re not telling me? Does this girl have it out for you? Why would she want your artwork?”

What could she say? Brad would take the truth right back to the principal, and he had no idea how dangerous these people were, that they would stop at nothing to get what they wanted. Better to let him think it was a catfight for now until she could figure out what to do.

One late fall evening, about a month after she’d served her two-day suspension, Sam hadn’t wanted to leave her house. It was cold and cloudy and they were predicting an early November snow, but it had been weeks since she’d gone anywhere and Jess had insisted they meet for ice cream before the Dairy Flip closed for the season.Don’t let them see you defeated, she’d said.Hold your chin high. It had been hard, but she’d gone.

She’d even made it out of the house without Brad seeing her heavy black eyeliner, her big, mean, black ankle boots, and her newly dyed black hair.The new you, Sam had told herself without an inkling of joy, just of irony. She was on her own now, in every way. Even her oldest brother and her grandmother treated her like she was one step away from delinquency, and that hurt more than anything. So she’d reinvented herself. It was either that or be bullied to death, and she would not give the people who enjoyed tormenting her the satisfaction.

Samantha, Badass Version, approached the block that housed the Dairy Flip. She saw a group of kids gathered around the picnic tables. Jess must have invited some of the so-called indie kids—the few people who’d been nice to her since The Incident. They were mostly students in Sam’s advanced art class, all rejects for one reason or another like herself. Kids who wore eccentric clothing, did weird stuff like pierce their noses, and read Keats on their lunch breaks. Melvin Boyd wrote plays. Tonya Simpson and Bette Arnold wrote vampire fiction. And Tommy Alder played the ukulele.

As she got closer, she saw that Jess was nowhere in sight, and the kids were not their friends but the Clubbers. Sam halted at the corner. She would just turn around and head home. Jess must have gotten sidetracked, and there was no way she was going anywhere near them by herself. She might have adopted a brave new persona, but she wasn’t crazy.

“You’re looking very badass, Samantha,” a voice from behind her said. She turned to see the face of her tormentor, who really would be beautiful if she wasn’t the devil incarnate.

“Nice dye job, too,” Monique said, flipping her lustrous hair back in that way she had. A million years ago, Sam had wanted to imitate that, like all the other girls. It seemed the ultimate phony gesture now.

Samantha pretended to be preoccupied with something on her phone, but frankly she only saw her terrified expression reflecting on the surface. Her heart was beating so loud she didn’t even hear what Monique had just said.

Monique was joined by her best friend Loraine, and three big guys. Football players, Reggie leading the pack.Shit. She scanned the city street for her friend. Where was Jess? It was getting late and it wasn’t like her to bail.

A text lit up her phone. From Jess. Relief doused her fear, knowing she wouldn’t be alone much longer.

My dad’s pissed and says I can’t go anywhere until I clean my room.

Oh,fire truck.

Sam looked around the Dairy Flip. The last customer left with ice cream and the server yanked down the metal roller blind with a train-on-the-tracks clickety-clack. The rest of the shops on Main Street were dim, shut down for the night. A minute later the giant ice cream cone sign out front flickered off, making the immediate area fade into shadow.

They were all looking at her, inching closer. Reggie was conferring with his shorter, stockier friend, Rod Stevens. They were both giving her the eye, looking her up and down like they liked what they saw.Assholes.The prickle at the back of her neck migrated forward to become a throbbing pulse.

Calm down, she told herself. What could they possibly do to her now? They’d taken away everything that had meant anything to her. All she had left was ... her personal safety.

At least she still had her cell. Surely she’d get a hold of one of her brothers, who could be here in a minute to walk her home. She’d just call ...

She started to punch in a number, but Rod walked quickly toward her and clipped her shoulder. She fell onto the gravel, her phone clattering into the street, tiny stones piercing the flesh of her palm. The posse moved closer.

Monique walked into the street and kicked her phone further away. “It cost my dad a lot of money to get that suspension erased from my record. Imagine what that would have done for my career. Mylife,” she said.

Sam stood up. Brushed off her jeans. She had nothing left. They’d taken everything. Still, she wouldn’t let them see her flinch.

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