“You got a hall pass, sweetie?”
My throat is mute. Before I can form a remark, my feet are sweeping past her and I’m speed-walking down the hallway. I keep my eyes to the ground. Walk. Walk. Walk.
“Oh my god, did you see her face?” comes a high-pitched squeal.
Nope nope nope.
I pivot on my heel and race back to the bathroom. I slide in, almost startling the sweet lady as she exits. Taking refuge in my stall, I pray that I mistook the voice.
“-but like seriously, it was like beet-red and totally fucking hilarious,” says Vivian.
My soul crashes to the tiled floor. Just my fucking luck.
I can’t hold my tears back any longer. Unbidden and vicious, they pour down my cheeks. My face’s screwed up, and I try to hold back my sobs.
“Good, she’s like, super ugly.” Bernadette has a distinctly higher voice, more nasally. “And such a slut. Like, seriously, what fucking blowjob lips.”
There’s some ruffling around, and then Vivian takes the stall next to me. They continue talking. My feet are pulled up onto the toilet seat, and I hug my knees. I feel small, contained. Trapped. Tears continue to well and fall, and I wish I could make them stop.
“And like, did you see her try and make her boobs bigger? Like pushing them up would make any guy fall for that trick?”
“Right? They’re like fucking tiny grapes.”
“And, like, also, her bush. Like, a bush is so gross. It smells, it’s nasty. No respectable guy would ever want to bury his face into that bear of a pussy.”
“I bet she smells horrible.”
“Ugh, totally, right. She runs all the time so it must reek.”
“Do you think she went home?”
“Probably.” There’s a smack of lips popping. I imagine them doing their makeup in the mirror, but I’m too terrified to move. “I hope she’s embarassed and ashamed as fuck.”
“She looked pretty mortified,” Vivian chuckles, flushing the toilet. She doesn’t wash her hands. “Like, completely horrified.”
“Good.” There’s some more ruffling, a spray of liquid, and the scent of coconut and vanilla fills the air. “Maybe now she’ll be a good little pet and stop fucking this up.”
Pet. There is that word again. It has such sinister connotations, and I shudder to think of what the word means to them.
“Emmett says she has no clue,” Vivian says. At the mention of Emmett’s name, my heart stutters a bit.
“Emmett’s got his dick in a twist,” Bernadette says. Almost flippantly, like she’s mentioning some sort of mild affliction. Oh, he’s just got a cold. “My brother can’t be trusted with her. She’s gotten under his skin already.”
“She’s such a fucking bitch!” Vivian’s tone becomes enraged, and I wince. Clearly, I’m some sort of threat to her. Well, she can fucking have Emmett – they’re made for each other. “I hate her.”
Right back at you, Vivian. Less than seventy-two hours and you really can learn to hate someone.
“Calm down, he’ll be right back in your lap when this whole thing is over,” Bernadette soothes. “He won’t lose sight just because she’s a talking pussy with legs.”
“But you just said-”
“Look, I know my brother. Once he fucks her, he’ll toss her aside.” She pauses, and then adds in a thoughtful tone: “Actually, it’d probably be good to just mess with her that way. Toy with her feelings, you know?”
“I don’t want that bitch near him,” Vivian snaps. “She’ll probably give him a disease.”
“Ooh, that’s good for the next rumor,” Bernadette says, almost like she’s excited. “What should she have, like herpes?”
“Genital herpes.” The snideness in Vivian’s tone makes me sick to my stomach. “Like, that’s a permanent one, right?”