Page 76 of Tutoring the Bad Boy
Pulling my shoulders back, I say, “No. There’s no one here I want to listen to.”
Dixie sighs. “I told you.”
I throw, “Shut up,” over my shoulder and continue glaring at Ronnie.
She softens. “Ginny,” she says, “Please, please listen.”
I haven’t cried since that day I ran from school. Anytime there’s been even a hint I might, I bite the inside of my cheek, pinch my arm, or do something else equally painful. I will not cry. I will not. I’ve cried all that I’ll allow myself to, but…it’s bubbling up despite how hard I’m trying not to.
Taking my shoulders in her hands, Ronnie pushes me down on the edge of her bed. “Please.”
Dixie sniffs. “Ginny, I know…” Her voice breaks. “What I did was awful. I should have never done it. You would never have done anything like that. I’m so, so sorry. I should have talked to you, but I didn’t know. I didn’t know until a couple of days ago.”
It’s not the first time she’s tried to apologize. It did start a couple of days ago, but I’d make a quick retreat. There’s nothing to say. “Know what?”
Dixie passes her phone to Ronnie, who holds her hand out to me and says, “Let me see your phone.”
I lean back. “Why?”
“Could you find just a sprinkle of trust for me?” she asks.
Without a word, I pull my phone out of my pocket and slap it into her hand. She taps a few buttons and then her gaze jumps from one phone to the other and back. Lifting her gaze to mine, she says, “Look.”
Our gazes stay locked until both phones are in my hands. I look down at the phone and a gasp breaks free from between my lips. There’s a text with photos of Chris and me sent to Dixie from me, but I never sent it. The day and time I was supposed to have sent it isn’t in my text history. I look back up. “What is this?”
“Look closer at the photos from the grocery store.”
I set my phone down and zoom in on the picture. My breathing quickens. I’m trying to reconcile my mother telling me she loves me and what I’m seeing in these pictures. I know it’s her pointing the camera and taking the picture because she’s wearing one of her favorite outfits.
A sob catches in my throat, and big fat drops of tears plop onto Dixie’s phone. Dixie gently pulls it from my grip and kneels in front of me, taking me into her arms. “Ginny, you are one of my nearest and dearest friends. I know I can’t ever make this up to you, but I swear to you, it will never happen again.”
I’m full-on weeping now. The ugly, runny nose, hiccupping kind of crying. I’ve been betrayed all over again, and by the one person who has always sworn to love me. How can she even whisper the word when I’m looking at something so heinous that the word love can’t possibly apply.
She used my phone to text Dixie. It probably means the reason Kaleb stopped talking to me was because of these pictures. That doesn’t change what he told my mom, but knowing his past…how his mom had an affair…I doubt he even considered that it could be a lie.
But he did trick me, and he did break my heart. Even if he thought he had a good reason. It means our entire relationship was a lie. Maybe by the end, if he’d said he just didn’t feel that way about me, we might have been able to talk and come away as friends.
Not now.
I don’t know how long Dixie holds me while I cry. I just know at some point Ronnie’s joined in, and we’ve got a group hug going on. I’m both miserable and somewhat relieved. I mean, Kaleb should have come to me. He should have talked to me. All it would have taken was a conversation, and all of this could’ve been worked out.
Maybe I should’ve tracked him down and forced him to tell me what was wrong, but I haven’t exactly been the role model for levelheaded decisions. Granted, I still have plenty of reasons to be angry with my mom.
This has gone beyond her trying to teach me a lesson. She’s nearly ruined the lives of three of my friends as well.
I grab another tissue and dry my face off. “I’m sorry, Dixie.”
She shakes her head. “No. I probably would’ve done the same thing. Accuse me of something I didn’t do? Shoot, I’d have probably slashed your tires. That is, if you had a car.”
Ronnie smacks her lightly on the arm. “Dixie.”
“What? It’s true.” She chuckles. “I’ve got good insurance if it’ll help make you feel better.”
I bust out laughing. “No. I’m good. But I need to go talk to my mom.”
“What are you going to do?” Ronnie asks.
“I’m not sure yet,” I say and stand. “If something happens, do you think I could spend the night?” I direct the question to Ronnie.
