Page 210 of Broken by my Bully
Haven
The thin veneer of courage I walked into the gala with just evaporated. Even this gorgeous gown I’m wearing feels flimsy as fuck. I’m sure they can smell the poverty underneath the designer silk.
“I think I’m having a stroke,” I tell Melissa as she drags me down a narrow corridor.
It feels like I’m headed for a public beheading…and it’s my neck on the chopping block.
She flashes me a nervous smile over her shoulder. “You’ll do fine,” she murmurs, but her voice is as unsteady as the hand she uses to guide me. “I really, really thought you knew.”
“No, Melissa!” I hiss. “I had no fucking idea.”
“It’s okay, really. Just…use your imagination.”
I yank my arm out of her grip, and she spins around to face me, her cream-colored gown as flawless and fluid as her makeup and hair.
We tried putting my hair into a French knot. It slid apart like a rushed lemon meringue pie. So Melissa tried to curl it into soft waves…a few of them survived, but they’re heavy on the soft, and barely there on the wave. The hair clip she used to drag some of my hair away from my face made the most noticeable effect, but I can feel it sliding too.
This is what happens when you drown virgin hair in shea butter.
Her foundation was too light for my skin tone, but she got rid of the dark smudges under my eyes and found a bronze eyeshadow that really makes my eyes pop.
I’ll never forget the way she stared at me when she came up to me with a pair of diamond earrings and I told her my ears weren’t pierced.
When we climbed into her Aston Martin, I felt great.
Like on top of the world fantastic.
My dress was gorgeous. My hair shiny. My face…well, as good as it would ever be, I guess.
Even spotting Ezra at the entrance only made me hold my head that much higher. He’d never liked me, and it was obvious from the way his face stiffened up that nothing had changed.
But I brushed it off.
This?
No way in hell I can brush this off.
In fact, I’m pretty sure I won’t even survive this.
“I’m not doing it.” I shake my head, hoping it will cement my decision. “I refuse.”
“You can’t do that,” she whispers.
As if there’s someone here with us in this creepy hallway.
“Says who?”
“Says the people who gave you the money to come to college.” A tiny crease graces her brow. “You didn’t realize you’d have to be involved in stuff like this if you accepted the grant? They would have notified you.”
“Guess my invite got lost in the mail,” I say dryly.
She nods. “Exactly. Or maybe Ted forgot to deliver it.”
Well, fuck.
The nice Korean family living at my old Riverside address must be confused as hell, getting all my mail. Which reminds me, I reallyhave to update my address. At least I can get stuff sent to Gamma Alpha Zeta now.
I hold up my hands. “No, it’s cool. I’ll just get up in front of a hundred million strangers and make up a speech about social inequality.” I lean in. “You know. Using my imagination.”
