Page 46 of Broken Pieces
What she really wants is to poke around, peel back the layers until she’s sure I’m not seconds away from burning the place down. But she’s looking in the wrong direction.
The thing chewing me alive isn’t school. It’s not Dolores. It’s not the mountain of bullshit stacked on top of me every damn day.
She tries again. Switches tactics, voice soft like that’ll make a difference.
“I understand Zane lives in the same foster home. Skylar, if he’s bullying you—”
There it is.
Straight to the assumption. Of course she assumes it’s him. The boy with bruises for knuckles and a record of fights behind him. They always blame him. Never the bastards who put us there.
“Seriously,” I snap. “Don’t.”
If she says one more thing about him, I’ll lose it. I’ll tell her to fuck off, take the suspension, whatever. Anything to get her to shut her mouth.
“Then tell me what’s going on,” she presses.
“Maybe this meeting is what’s getting me down,” I say, picking at a frayed thread on my jumper, eyes locked on the floor.
She sighs. Patient. Pretending again.
“Skylar, you’re supposed to open up here. Next time, I can invite Dolores if that makes you more comfortable.”
I let out a laugh.
Fucking stupid bitch. She doesn’t have a clue.
“If you do that, I won’t be here.”
The clock ticks.
Five minutes down.
Twenty-five more of this suffocating silence. Her eyes on me, her fake concern while she waits for me to snap.
I force a smile. All teeth, no warmth.
A trick. Two can play this game.
“I’ve just got a lot of work due,” I say, voice tight with fake worry. “I’m stressing about getting it done.”
Her face softens, eyes going all gentle. She thinks she’s cracked something open.
“Would you like me to ask your teachers for an extension?”
“No.” I cut in too fast. “I can handle it. I just need somewhere quiet. Somewhere now. Dolores’s place isn’t exactly built for peace and focus.”
She nods, all knowing and smug. “With all the kids there.”
“Exactly.” I let the smile stretch, feed her the version of me she wants. Let her believe I’m opening up. “Even the next twenty minutes could help me get something done.”
She hesitates.
Just for a second.
But she’s already hooked. And every part of me screams I’ve won.
She studies me, trying to decide if I’m full of shit.
