Page 9 of Maddox
Yeah…no.
Since I knew I couldn’t avoid it any longer, I agreed to go to a party at Celina’s this evening. Celina lives on “the hill” with all the other rich kids.
Although we’re not the closest of friends, I appreciate her no-nonsense attitude and ability to rein Becky in when she’s spiraling out of control.
Still, dread pools in my stomach as I drop down on the bench in front of the dinner and wait for Lana to pick me up.
Thankfully, this isn’t a popular hangout for the crew, but I know, eventually, they’re going to hear about my job waiting tables.
I’m ready with excuses, although weary of the subterfuge. If I admit it to myself, I’ll go down a spiral of other thoughts, which is why I avoid the knowledge that I’m ashamed to admit just how far my family has fallen.
When Lana pulls up in her pretty little sedan gifted to her on her sixteenth birthday, I slide into the passenger seat and smile, ignoring the pang of jealousy that settles in my gut.
If I hadn’t left Mom and Peter, I’d still be driving my own vehicle.
Slamming the door closed to those thoughts, I touch up my hair in the mirror while Lana pulls away from the curb. I feel sweaty and grimy after my walk from the trailer, but thank god, I look fine per my reflection.
“What happened yesterday?” she says, glancing at me before making a right turn.
Hiding my grimace, I mumble, “I went home sick.”
“Oh. Why didn’t you text me? We were worried.”
Guilt gnaws at my insides, and I avoid her bright blue gaze by looking over her shoulder.
The truth trembles on my tongue but swallowing that shit back, I say, “I’m sorry. I was so messed up that I didn’t think about it.”
“Hm,” she hums, and I smooth my fingers down my thighs. What? What the fuck does “hm” mean?
“Well,” she continues, “Robert told Cammie, who told William that he saw you in the library with Draven.”
Ugh. I guess I should have thought that one out. Good news travels fast in this group.
“Um,” I say, fumbling with my phone when it chirps in my lap. Saved by the bell. Thank God.
You on your way, babe?
Shit. I’ve been avoiding Micah since we got in a huge fight two weeks ago.
Between Becky’s accusations, her skeevy boyfriend’s come-ons and Micah freaking out, I just don’t have the energy to deal with his shit.
“Who’s that?” Lana asks and with a sigh, I shove my phone between my thighs.
“Micah.”
“Oh, he’s been a total dick since you iced him out,” Lana says.
“I didn’ticehim out. I got tired of fighting about the same damn shit,” I say and when I spy her shaking her head from the corner of my eye I turn to her. “What?”
“Nothing.”
“It's not nothing. What?”
The corner of her lip lifts and she says, “You’ve changed, Delaney. You don’t hang out anymore. We hardly ever see you and when we do, you’re bitchy and tired. You won’t talk to anyone, and poor Micah doesn’t know how to deal with that.”
“Poor Micah? He did this shit to himself. Really, Lana? He called me a whore,” I say, slashing my hand through the air.
I know I’ve been distant, lost in my thoughts or avoiding the group but he should have taken my side. He should have believed me.
