Page 39 of Forgotten Sacrifice
“You are such a snob. This is a nice, middle-class neighborhood.” I find myself defending Vince and his home for some reason.
“No thanks.” She shudders. “Why are you here?”
“I was with my tutor.” A tutor who’s probably just now discovering she’s locked in the bathroom without her phone.I smile.
“Ah, that makes more sense,” Olivia says, and I hate how elitist she is, while at the same time, I hate how badly I want to be accepted into the rich kid’s club. Or at least, Iwantedto be accepted. “Happy belated birthday, by the way.”
“Thanks,” I say, pulling my dress over my head to reveal my bikini top and jean shorts before buckling up. I’ve made sure to cake on the body makeup over my scars.
“Not fair! Your tits are so nice.” Olivia pouts. “I’m finally getting mine done this summer after graduation. Huge party at Kyle’s dad’s house, I’ll keep you posted.”
She grabs her phone, eyes on it as she types a text.
I grip the door handle for dear life as we careen dangerously close to the curb. “Uh, Olivia?”
“What?” Tossing her phone, she jerks the wheel seconds before we hit a bus stop bench. “Now that I’ve got you alone, it’s time to spill the tea.”
“I told you, I left school to focus on chess.”I left school because Vince is a tyrant.
“Well, Aspen’s been gloating non-stop.” Olivia rolls her eyes. “She claims responsibility for getting you expelled after the whole shanking incident.”
I snort. “Aspenwishesshe had that much power.”
“So you admit to shanking her!”
Laughing, I shake my head. “I admit to nothing. Who’s meeting up with us?” I change the subject.
“Just yours truly. Our go-to forger’s grandma passed away, and so he’s back home; no one could get a pass.”
“How did you get one?” I wonder.
“I have my parent’s electronic signatures on file.” She waves a hand. “They prefer I don’t bother them with trivialities. Which way? I’ve never been to the boardwalk.”
“Turn right at the next light,” I instruct her, and we pull into a parking lot.
Olivia pays to park, and we stroll down the boardwalk and past the arcade.
“What’s wrong?” She eyes me.
I must’ve made a face. “I’m hungry.”
“You do get bitchy when you’re hungry.”
I would argue, but it’s true.
We grab a greasy slice of pizza, and Olivia uses a fake ID to buy a beer. She offers me a sip, but I shake my head, my mother of all hangovers as Nicky called it still fresh in my mind. And mystomach; it churns thinking about it.
“Oooh, let’s get a tattoo!” Olivia stops at the window of a tattoo shop, and we check out some of the designs in the window.
“Damn. I forgot my credit card,” I lie, not having a credit card.
“My birthday gift to you.” She pulls me inside the shop.
We’re greeted by a tatted-up front desk clerk who checks our IDs before handing us the artist’s portfolio to browse. Not finding what I have in mind, I scroll the Internet.
“Your phone has seen better days.” Olivia eyes my phone.
“Slipped out of my hand.”And at Vince’s head.
