Page 31 of The Tattered Gloves
She broke out into a large grin as she watched my face morph into abject horror.
“Okay, so that’s a hard no then?”
I laughed, and she seemed genuinely pleased to have caused it.
“What if we grab a couple of sodas and chairs and I tell you some stories?”
I had no idea what she was talking about, but I couldn’t say no to being antisocial. Taking a spot at one of the only tables not occupied by a vomit-inducing couple staring deep into each other’s eyes, we each popped open a soda and started munching on a few handfuls of chips we’d grabbed.
“So, since you’re new here and everyone has made it their business to talk about you, I figured it was only fair to give up all the juicy gossip on everyone else.”
“Isn’t that basically just doing the same thing they’ve been doing to me?” I asked, my mouth half full with Doritos.
She shook her head, blonde curls bouncing back and forth. “Not really. Just think of it as a history lesson.”
“You will make an excellent lawyer someday, you know that?”
She sat tall in her chair, grinning. “That’s what my daddy says!” Her eyes left mine and began scanning the room.
It was somewhat dark, but the lights near the DJ still kept it well lit.
That was why I hadn’t run out, screaming like a crazy person, the second I entered.
“Oh! Okay, here is a good one. See the girl about halfway across the room, dancing like she stepped out of 1998?”
I wasn’t sure I knew what that meant, but I searched around the room anyway.
It didn’t take long for me to spot her. She was stepping from side to side, bobbing her head and moving her arms, while everyone else kind of just moved their hips.
“That is Katie Drew. She moved here in sixth grade from somewhere in Mississippi. I remember the state because our teacher had us all spell it the day she arrived, and being the slightly neurotic kid I was —am,” she corrected with a gleam of a smile, “I walked the whole way home, saying, ‘M-I-S-S-I-S-S-I-P-P-I.’ It was stuck in my head for weeks.”
“That’s the strangest thing I’ve ever heard,” I joked.
“See? I’m not all sunflowers and daisies.” She tried to convince me, causing me to nearly choke on my Diet Coke.
“I know. I see it now — your checkered past.”
“Anyway,” she went on, smiling, “Katie is probably one of the meanest, scariest girls you’ll meet in the entire state.”
“The entire state?” I repeated, thinking her generalization was a bit grand.
“She even hates me.”
My mouth hung open.
“Exactly. She’s so feared, the only reason she has friends at all is because they are too scared to run away.”
“That’s sad.” I snuck another peek at the girl.
She was average-looking, maybe a little less than. But then who was I to judge? She wore a pink dress that flattered her figure and matching shoes. A large group of people danced around her, all appearing to have a good time.
Were they really?
“Why is she so mean?”
“Honestly? I think she doesn’t like herself very much.”
I rolled my eyes. “Oh, come on. That’s lame. A girl is mean because she has self-esteem issues? That’s about as cliché as—”
