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If it weren’t for Izzy and Mason, and the fact we were raised together like brothers…
Would he just be like everyone else who bullied me when I was younger?
I hate that the thought even crosses my mind. Over and over again, I tell myself he’s better than that—he’s not them. But it’s impossible not to consider it when he can barely stand to look at me sometimes.
Not to mention, his dad can’t stand me. I don’t see Chief McAllister often, especially now that we’re older and Waylon will either just walk or ride his bike over, or catch rides with my parents or Mason’s mom. But when he used to come around…
I didn’t miss the looks he’d give me, especially as I got older, and became hyper-attuned to that sort of thing.
Can’t help but wonder what he said about me when I wasn’t around.
What he might’ve filled Waylon’s head with over the years.
It’s no secret his dad’s a drunk piece of shit who hangs with Shiloh’s worst of the worst. Only reason Mom and Dad haven’t cut all ties with the man, is because of their love for his son—or rather, Gemma’s son. But they stopped inviting him to things years ago. Stopped hoping the man they once knew would come back.
It was never outright said, but I know they too took notice of how Chief McAllister looked at me—that disdain he couldn’t even bother to mask.
Sucking in my cheeks, I refocus on the scene before me, and watch the bottle spin and spin and spin, silently praying it doesn’t land on me. While I doubt we’d actually have to kiss, I really don’t want all that awkwardness.
Most of all, I don’t want him to confirm my suspicions.
Izzy wouldn’t take too kindly to that. Mason either. And despite what Waylon might think about me deep down, I know just how important they are to him. How important my parents are to him. He can’t lose us.
The bottle stops, and it’s as if the whole room sighs in relief. But that’s probably just in my head.
Waylon smirks as he pushes up to his knees. Next to me, Sarah giggles, and meets him on all fours in the center of the circle.
When they kiss, there’s definitely tongue.
I quickly look away as Mason whistles and the girls cheer.
Shoulders hunched up by my ears, I will myself to turn into a puddle and disappear into the floor. Or fade into the wall behind me.
I knew I should’ve escaped while I still could…
But every time I tried to disappear upstairs, either Izzy or Mason would catch me and call me over.
They’re just being nice. I know that. They want me to feel included, especially since I’ll be back in school with them next week, and currently have no other friends.
I don’t know these girls, not really, even if I do vaguely remember them from before I started getting homeschooled. And it won’t matter come next week anyway, when they’re no longer obligated to be kind.
They haven’t really said anything to me today, but I’ve caught a couple looks, and didn’t miss them whispering to each other. I told myself it wasn’t about me, but it’s a lot harder to convince that annoying voice in my head.
Waylon and Sarah separate, returning to their places. Sarah grabs the bottle, and takes her turn. It lands on the girl next to her, and everyone goes crazy.
I feel like I’m dying.
This is the moment I think someone will throw in a rule about this sort of thing. It should’ve been established from the start. But Izzy’s quick to snuff that idea out by saying, “The only exception is me and JJ. Don’t be weird, guys.” Her gaze flits to me, then away, and I want to kill her.
Waylon tries to object—something I don’t know if I’m grateful for or not—but the girls all giggle and seem totally on board. Mason says nothing, but if I’m not mistaken, he’s watching me. I don’t dare look up and confirm it. Instead, I clench my fists against my shins, digging my nails into my palms.
I suddenly get the feeling this is more than just a game, and my chest tightens all too familiarly.
A roar fills my ears, and I’m vaguely aware of the girls turning toward each other and sharing a couple pecking kisses, giggling like it’s nothing at all.
Gritting my teeth, I hold myself rigid, focus on breathing so I don’t send myself into a panic attack.
I should just tell them I have to use the bathroom. Make my escape.
