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Unfortunately, Mason doesn’t seem to find it funny, either.
“Give me your phone,” he murmurs darkly, holding out his hand. I open my mouth to protest and he cocks a brow.
Fine.
I place it in his hand, ashamed at the tremor that moves through mine when I do. He notices, but he doesn’t say anything, typing something I can’t see.
“My number. In case you find yourself without a ride again.” The way he says it, I know he’s not talking about taking me home.
I open my mouth to speak, but I have nothing to say. And then, I realize what Bailey meant.
We really are all alike, aren’t we?
Silent. Me, Bailey, Mila, Savannah, every other woman our age in this position. Even Monica Parker. We’re silent in the face of the people that control our lives. In my case, my mother. We put on a pretty face, disguise our battle scars, and pretend our lives are as perfect as the media makes them out to be.
It’s a disgrace.
“Goodnight, Hannah.”
I swallow.
Guess that’s my cue to leave.
I climb out of his truck, stumbling on my heels ungracefully before I right myself.
“Goodnight, Mason.”
Hannah
What did you do?” Mom snaps, her teeth barred and her gaze full of disgust.
She looks down at the little cat at our feet, her eyes flashing wickedly between both of us.
Tears well in my eyes.
Missy glowers at her.
“Which one of you did this?” Mom snaps, her face turning tomato red as she hovers over us.
I don’t want Mama to think I did that, but I don’t want Missy to get in trouble either. Mama is harder on her than me.
Floof was a good cat.My catand now, he’s gone. All because he scratched Missy’s hand.
He never liked her. She hated him.
“Hannah did it.”
I gawk at her, fresh new tears slipping down my face at my sister’s betrayal.
“Mama—”
“What did you do, Hannah Marie, and you better not lie to me.”
“I didn’t do anything, Mama,” I whimper, but Missy steps in to handle that, too.
“She was petting it too hard. Broke it’s neck,” Missy shrugs. “I tried to save it, but . . . I think it’s dead.”
“Mama, I swear, I didn’t do it.”
