Page 42 of Scaredy Cat
Apparently, they aren’t willing to keep up their attack now that I have backup. Both girls flee without another word, heading toward the hallway that leads to the bathrooms and some staff-only areas, judging by the signs.
As I watch them go, I realize the guy who ran into them is heading that way as well, though I’m still pretty sure he has no idea they exist. With his face turned away from me, the only thing I can make out about him other than the back of a very tastefulMichael Myershoodie is curly auburn hair that’s more red than mine, even with the highlights Madison put in it.
“Who were they?” Madison asks, drawing my attention away from the girls and the guy who saved me without even realizing it.
“Hmm?” I turn back to her, and my eyes drop to the table between us. “Just…people who recognized me from online.”
“Oh! Followers?” Madison asks, pushing a plate of bao buns towards me.
“No,” I’m quick to say, my voice bitter. “No, uh, they found me off of the manor’s post yesterday, and they wanted to, umm…air their feelings about my content.”
Madison goes quiet. My knuckles tap the table, creating a soft sound between us, but I don’t look up at her. I’m too embarrassed, and my headache is only getting worse. This isnothow I intended to spend my time today.
“I’m sorry.” Madison’s words make me glance up at her, eyes wide. “I should’ve noticed. You aren’t, uh, subtle when you’re upset. No offense.” She offers me a quick, friendly smile. “I should’ve come over faster.”
“No.” I shake my head. “No, you don’t have to defend me from the world, Mads.” My lips quirk into a crooked grin. “Seriously, I’m fine. It’s all good.”
Mostly.
Sort of.
Even though my delicate feelings were hurt enough to match my headache. I reach down and pick up one of the bao buns that reminds me of a miniature, fluffy taco. The insides, a mixture of chicken and Asian slaw, are messy enough that I have to cup my other hand under it to eat it, and even then I’m glad for the pile of napkins Madison brought with her.
“This is so good,” I mumble around a mouthful of food. “Holy shit. Literallyso good.”
Madison snorts out an amused chuckle and takes a bite of her own bao bun, though hers looks to contain shrimp instead of chicken. “They don’t deliver yet, or we’d be having this every night at our apartment.”
“Uh, yeah. Wonder if Brynn could like, copy the recipe. Do you think we can find the buns at a market? Just do the insides ourselves?” It only takes me a few bites to finish off my first bun, and I pick up the second, pulled pork with slaw, before I notice Madison’s sudden confused, unhappy expression. “What? Did I say something wrong?”
“What do you want?” Her tone is cold, and it takes a second to realize she’s not talking to me. The sudden anxiety in my chest unfurls, and I set my bun down to look over my shoulder to see who she’s talking to.
The girls from before stand a few feet away from us, ashen-faced and clearly uncomfortable. The blonde has her shoulders hunched, and she twists her hands together like a child caught doing something wrong. It’s a big departure from their cocky dislike of me minutes before.
“I’m….” They look at each other, then at me. Neither of them even spares Madison a glance.“We’resorry,” the blonde murmurs quickly. “It was inappropriate for us to just come up to you like that, and—” She glances over her shoulder before facing me with wide eyes. “Sorry.” The word sounds like it’s been dragged from her lips, and there’s a hint of fear in it.
“We’re really sorry,” the other girl adds, her own eyes just as wide. She’s pale under her tan, and she stands stiffly straight, her hands locked behind her back. She doesn’t turn around, but every line of her body screams that she has no desire to be here.
“Oh, yeah?” I trade looks with Madison. “This is sort of a strange change of heart. Don’t you?—”
“We said we’re sorry.” The blonde winces at the tone of her own words and hunches her shoulders again. “A-are we okay? We’ll delete the comments we made on your blog, and we won’t say anything else. We probably won’t even see you again,” she adds, but that part feels like she’s trying to reassure herself instead of me.
“We’re good, right?” the other girl asks. This time she’s the one who looks over her shoulder, then forces herself to straighten quickly. “You aren’t upset with us?”
“She has every right to be,” Madison mutters, but she’s looking just as confused as I am.
The girls look so uncomfortable that I almost want to take pity on them. Too bad my headache’s awful enough that any minor inconvenience is enough to ruin my day, so I just fold my arms and give them an unfriendly look. “Yeah, that’s not really how this works,” I tell them sweetly. “You don’t get to just decide that we’re good. I’m?—”
“We said we’re sorry. What more do you want? Can’t you just—” But the blonde breaks off and looks around again. “Never mind. You know what, we did what we were supposed to do. We apologized. We’resorry.”This time she snarls the word and grabs her friend’s hand, already backing away.
“We’re sorry,” the other echoes, but she doesn’t seem like she means it. They hesitate for only a second before the blonde drags her friend away, heading toward the entrance to the food court that eventually opens up to the parking lot, the same way Madison and I came in.
We just sit there, staring after them, our food forgotten on styrofoam plates. At least until I decide the allure of pulled pork is more interesting than their retreating figures. “Weird,” I mumble, right before I take a bite.
“Maybe they’re high.” Madison shrugs, and picks up her second bun as well.
“Definitely high.” While there’s probably a better explanation, I have no idea what it could be right now. Not only that, but I can’t really find it within me to care. Whatever gave them a change of heart, I’m glad for it. The two of them absolutely needed to be taken down a peg or three, and I’m not one to look a gift horse in the mouth.
18
