Page 12 of We Shouldn't Be Together
“Just to pick me up,” I answer much too hastily. “He can’t stick around to talk.”
Yvie screws up her mouth. “Not even to say hi?”
I sigh. “Of course, you two can say hi.”
Coping with Camila outside of school is particularly dicey, even when we go shopping. Picking out a new outfit usually lifts her mood.
But I can’t get through another parade at Cynthia’s. It’s always the same. She asks me what I think and has me pick out jewelry items from around thestore. I mean, sometimes there’s a bonus. Last time she bought me this dainty gold charm bracelet I’ve been wearing ever since.
Going to Cynthia’s can be such a minefield. I always tell Camila she looks fabulous. But, sometimes, she scowls at me so intensely and interprets what I said as something mean. Worse is when Yvie jumps in, echoing Cammy’s words until I end up apologizing for everything that came out of their mouths.
Tomorrow is a new day. Endless possibilities in every hallway and every classroom for Cammy to find a new victim. Or, at least, I can find them and present them to her.
In the ten minutes it takes Freddy to get here, I swear life has drained from my body. He pulls up in his blue Lexus, which matches the royal blue of his football team’s jerseys, and the passenger window lowers.
Inside, Freddy slides his Ray-Bans down his nose and jokes, “Look, it’s the brat squad.”
Honestly, he could have billionaire hair. The way the thick, dark brown hair effortlessly sweeps back with a glossy shine is envious. I have to use a mountain of product to get my dark curls to play nice.
“Brat squad?” Yvie questions, popping a hip as she mischievously eyes my brother. “I totally think you’re mislabelling us.”
“Oh, is that so?” Freddy asks with that charismatic smile that makes all the girls drool.
I really hate when he does that.
Cammy and Yvie giggle as they lean in closer to the car.
It’s a very good possibility they only stay friends with me for a chance to be with Freddy.
It’s sick.
But, then again, I stay friends with them to avoid worse bullying. So maybe I’m just as sick as them.
Freddy is a year older than me, and our brother Drew is a year older than Freddy. It was just the three of us for so long, and we grew up super close. Then,when I was six, Mom and Dad surprised us with our little brother Corbin. Super-big personalities already filled our house. For a long time, I kept hoping the stalk got the house number wrong, and kid number four wasn’t really ours.
“Come on, Tabby, jump in,” Freddy says, gesturing with his head. “We gotta get home.”
The girls wave and giggle in unison. “Bye, Freddy.”
Freddy fixes his sunglasses against his nose as I get into his car. “Bye, girls.”
“I’ll text you,” I say to my friends as I buckle up.
I don’t hear their response because Freddy’s already reversing the car onto the street.
“So, what did you do this time?” Freddy asks as he drives the car along Main Street.
“Huh?”
“The text from Mom was pretty blunt,” he replies. “She seems fired-up.”
“Well, she didn’t text me, so it can’t be that important.” I brush it off. “It’s probably not even about me. Heck, it’s probably about Drew.”
“Mm-hmm,” Freddy mutters, flicking on his indicator.
“Why? What did the text say?”
“Get Tabitha home now.”
