Page 111 of We Shouldn't Be Together
She sniffs again, her grip tightening against her bleeding finger. “You just want me to do everything for you.”
“Like what?” I’d comment on how bad her fingernail situation looks, but I’m too pissed off.
“You follow me around, hoping I’ll make your life better.”
My pulse is racing. I can’t hear anything except for its thumping beat. “How do you make my life better?”
“Admit it. You’d be nothing without me.”
“You don't have a license to say these things just because you got dumped right after your dad abandoned you.”
At that, Camila gasps and stops in place. Like an idiot, I stop beside her, just in time for her to slap me across the face.
White-hot pain lightning bolts through my cheek, across my teeth, and into my skull. I can barely see straight as I stumble to keep upright. I can tell Cammy’s saying something, but there’s a ringing in my ears. When I cup the tender spot and blink a few times, I watch Cammy walk off.
What the hell just happened?
I take my hand off my cheek and gasp at the blood on my hand.
Did she make me bleed?
Horrified, I dash up the hallway toward the nurse’s office. I push past Cammy on the way in and find Mrs. Whiteborne sitting at her desk.
“Am I bleeding?” I blurt, panting and sweating.
Mrs. Whiteborne stands. “Let me take a look at you.”
Cammy enters behind me. “Umm, excuse me. I’m the one sent here by Coach Oliver.”
“I can look after both of you,” Mrs. Whiteborne says. “Tabitha, sit over on this bed. Camila, take the one over there.”
We move to our respective beds, avoiding eye contact. From the corner of my eye, I see Cammy frown and cross her arms, just like I am.
Mrs. Whiteborne runs a damp cloth over the side of my face and I catch her smiling. “You don’t have a cut, Tabitha. I don’t know where the blood came from.”
“Over here,” Cammy says, waving her bloodied finger. “I’m the one bleeding.”
Mrs. Whiteborne’s head pivots between us. “What exactly happened here?”
“A stupid girl doesn’t know how to throw a basketball,” Cammy replies. “Can I get a bandage or something? Ugh, and a new manicure appointment?”
Mrs. Whiteborne takes an ice-pack from the refrigerator and hands it to me. “Place this against the side of your face. There’s a doozy of a red mark coming up.”
I press the iciness against my skin. “Thanks.”
Mrs. Whiteborne moves over to inspect Cammy’s broken and bloodied fingernail. “So, this happened during phys-ed?”
“Yes. Can you please tell Coach Oliver I’m excused for the rest of the semester?”
Mrs. Whiteborne laughs to herself. “I don’t think that’ll be happening. So, Tabitha, is your injury PE related as well?”
Even though Mrs. Whiteborne is blocking her view, I feel those burning holes coming from Cammy’s stare. “Umm, yeah,” I stammer. “Cammy got hit in the hand by a basketball, and it then hit me in the face.”
“Ouch. That sounds nasty,” Mrs. Whiteborne comments. “Perhaps these girls need to listen more closely when instructed on how to pass a ball.”
“You’re so right,” Cammy says, and I brace myself. “Some girls really need to learn their place.”
I don’t know why I let Cammy get to me. Maybe it’s because I now have Kai in my life, and he listens to what I say. Cammy doesn’t listen. She lies and berates. I hit my limit, and I said the worst thing. How did I not learn after the popcorn incident?
