Page 7 of Fate Book

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I hit my forehead. “Hell is too good a place for me.” Couldn’t I have at least picked an ugly guy? Oh, but noooo. I picked the hottest man ever to exist. Yes! A man! And no way was he close to my age!

All would not have been so lost if I’d not also made my profile public and connected it to Twitter right before I posted @Jgirl Bite me, Janice Jensen.

I knew she’d see it. I knew she’d want to retaliate. I knew she’d go to my Facebook page and check out my friends.

I covered my face. Why, why, why did I get myself into this mess? Because, hand-on-Bible truth? This was so not me. Not. Me. I’d never been the sort of person to lie my way through an issue. Once, when I was seven, I took a sneak peek inside the big red box under the Christmas tree. It was a new dollhouse. When my mother asked me who’d opened the present, I lied. I’d felt so guilty that I wrote Santa a letter stating—one hundred times—that I would never lie again. Never lie again, never lie again, never…

Sorry, Santa, I guess I broke that promise.

My cell vibrated. Another text from Mandy. Where r u?

I sighed. Dying on the inside.

What happened?

Janice, I replied.

She’s saying terrible things about you.

“Welcome her to the club,” I said as tweets rolled in. Apparently five other egg-faced people I’d never met were also saying “terrible things.” How odd.

I deserve it, I responded.

So, no supermodel boyfriend? she asked.

No.

Too bad. He’s way hot.

U saw him?

Everyone saw him. Janice tweets and Instagrams like a pro.

What do I do? I asked, once again feeling eternally grateful for Mandy’s friendship. Notice how she hadn’t judged me. And given her intelligence, she’d probably deduced the reason behind my ridiculous yet uncharacteristic behavior.

Several minutes passed without a reply, and then…

People will forget. Eventually.

Eventually? Eventually? Pfff…Not likely. This stupid move would follow me to the grave. This was not how I’d envisioned beginning the journey into adulthood!

I tapped my finger on the side of the phone. I had no choice but to face “people” and not let it break me. For sure, though, I’d learned one valuable lesson: I would never lie again. I was better than this.

I threw on a sweatshirt and jeans before trudging off to the bathroom. I wrangled my red curly mop into a sloppy ponytail, brushed my teeth, and glared at the girl staring back.

Loser.

I took off my clothes and crawled back into bed. If I couldn’t face myself, how could I face anyone else?

~ ~ ~

Thursday.

“Times up, Dakota!”

My mother pulled down the blanket and rolled me off the bed onto the floor with a thump.

“Ow!” I tried to return to my sanctuary of sadness, but she grabbed me by the earlobe and yanked me up.

“I know you’re not sick. You are going to school today, young lady.”

I tried to twist away, but the woman had a grip of iron. “I’m not going.”

She shuffled me toward my private bathroom. “I don’t know what’s going on, but you’re not spending the rest of your life in bed, hiding out. I didn’t raise a coward.”

She may not have raised me like that, but I’d ended up a coward anyway.

I looked at her out of the corner of my eye. “I screwed up.”

She let go. “Christ, Dakota. You’re pregnant? Why didn’t you tell me?” She lowered her head and covered her face with both hands. “I should’ve guessed.”

“What? No! Oh my God.”

Her eyes opened up like giant balloons. “Drugs! Damn it, Dakota! Haven’t you heard enough horror stories from me? And you’re eighteen now. Do you have any idea what’ll happen if they catch you? ”

“No, Mom, I’m not pregnant. I’m not on drugs. Although, I’d really love a very strong tranquilizer…for you!”

Spite flickered in her eyes. “Then what? Why are you acting like this?”

I sighed. “I lied and everyone knows it.”

She stared at me. “Lied. To a teacher? Your principal?”

I shook my head. “I wish.” I let out a long breath and sat on the bed. “I told everyone I am seeing this guy, but I’m not.”

She laughed.

“What?” I spat. Was it so hard to believe, even for my own mother?

“I’m relieved.”

“Nice,” I said.

“Think of it from my standpoint. You’ve been a model daughter. Good grades. No rebelling. Responsible. I kept wondering when my luck would run out. And now, you’re saying you lied to a few friends about a boy?”

“Mom! This is serious!”

“Right. You’re telling an ER nurse who watches mothers lose their kids to drunk drivers or drug ODs that this little issue is serious?”

Okay. When she put it like that…

“Maybe I am being petty,” I admitted. “But you have no idea what I’ve been through. Those girls are complete, fucking bitches.”

“Dakota! Watch that tongue.”

“What? Like you don’t use those words?”


Tags: Mimi Jean Pamfiloff Romance