Page 77 of Love is Angry

She tilts her head thoughtfully. “Rhue’s still there, right?”

I shrug. “I don’t know, I think so.”

“Are you going to tell him what his dad’s doing?”

I hesitate with one sock half-on. “I don’t know. I don’t think I should—what if he knows already, and doesn’t care? What if he really is still pissed at me even though he knows what really happened—maybe he thinks I deserve it?”

“Has he said he does?”

I shake my head. “We haven’t really talked since he found out. I mean—there was a lot of other stuff going on, then when Monday rolled around we just—never sought each other out. Not until yesterday, anyway.” I finish putting my socks and shoes on, frowning at the floor. “I talk to his sister, though. Maybe—”

“Text her,” Rita says, pushing my phone at me. “Right now, text her. Tell her what’s up. Oh! No. She’s a minor, right? Ok,callher. You don’t want scary daddy reading the messages.”

I give Rita an assessing look as I swipe through my phone to Laura’s number. “You’re kind of good at this.”

“I’ve picked up skills,” Rita says, flashing me a mysterious grin and a wink.

The phone rings twice before Laura picks up. “Laura Echeveria, Junior Campaign Manager for Julian Echeveria, you’re on speaker how can I help you?”

Fuck. “Hello there, Ms. Echeveria!” I pinch my nose, disguising my voice with a horrible old lady impersonation. “Could you tell me where I could pick up bumper stickers? I’m a huge supporter.”

“Sure thing! Do you have a pen?”

She gives me the address of the campaign office and I pretend to write it down. “Thank you,” I tell her. “Keep up the good work!” I hang up quickly and bury my face in the blankets, groaning.

“So—that went well,” Rita says. “Scary daddy was listening in, huh?”

“Yup.” My voice is muffled by the blankets.

“He must be expecting you to reach out to her. Rhue too, probably—but Rhue wouldn’t just sit around the campaign office letting his dad babysit him, would he?”

“No—but…” I don’t know how to get her to understand that I’m afraid Rhue is still on his dad’s side. I know she likes him, I know they’re friends—in fact, he was invited to last night’s party, too. If I’d actually gone to his place, we probably would have ditched studying and gone together. There’s potential here for all of us to be good friends—and there’s potential for Rhue to turn out to be as big a douchebag as his father.

“Uhmuhguh!” The muffled groan comes from the pile of blankets on the floor. Lindsey claws her way out of it, flinging herself up to glare at me through the crimped tangle of her hair. “Girl. Call him. He fucking loves you. He thought you were having an affair with his dad? And the whole time we hung out with him, all he could talk about was you. I mean yeah, he was pissed at first—but after a couple drinks? Man could write freaking sonnets.”

“You heard all that?” I ask, alarmed.

“How much did you hear?” Rita demands at the same time.

“Oh stuff it, both of you. You know my secret, I know yours. All’s fair in love and college or whatever. But for real—Rita, you remember after the hazing when we all had pizza?”

“Yup,” Rita says with a grin. “You bailed that day, Maddie, but yeah. He was sober and going on and on about fresh starts and forgiveness and stuff. I don’t know if he loves you—”

“Ugh!” Lindsey groans, frustrated.

“—but he likes you a whole lot,” Rita finishes. “He really does. I think you should give him a chance to show you that. Call him. Tell him what’s happening. See how he responds—I think you’ll be surprised.”

Chapter 34

Rhue

I don’t know what I was expecting to find in the file, or what I thought I’d be able to do with the information in it. I expected it to be sort of like school, with a chapter I’d have to read through a few times before figuring out what information mattered and what didn’t; but her name popped out at me like flashing neon.

Sibel Osman, my mother’s personal assistant up until the day she died (and for a week after, putting her affairs in order); and, more importantly, a fairly recent entry in my mother’s diary.

I check my mirror, feeling a little tense.

Knowing that my dad touched her, too, fills me with a dark rage that I struggle to keep from overwhelming my rational thoughts.

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