“Graduation,” she points at the phone. “That’s when we graduate and we’re done. We just have two-hundred-and-seventy-nine days left.”
I groan. All I see is two-hundred-and-seventy-nine days of potential pain and torture. But the happiness and glee that Lily has when she sees that number... I don’t have the heart to tell her that none of this is normal. We should be counting down the days happily, in anticipation of our next step in our journey.
Instead, we’re counting down the days until we escape them.
* * *
By the time I get home, it’s almost midnight. Mom and Brendan are sitting in the living room, watching Office reruns. Mom’s holding a glass of red wine in her hand, and when she turns at my arrival it nearly spills over Brendan.
“Honey!” she says, excited. “You’re home!”
“Eh, watch it woman!” Brendan says, taking away her glass and gingerly placing it on the side table. “You almost spilled on me!”
I roll my eyes and walk over to give them a hug from behind. “The Office? Haven’t you guys watched that like seven times through already?”
Brendan gestures to Mom, who is quietly giggling. “It’s her show! And I just let her do what she wants.”
“Clearly,” I tease, giving them both a kiss on their cheeks. “Okay, I’m going to bed. Love you.”
“Love you too,” they chime in, my mother’s a little slurred. She breaks into a fit of laughter at some joke, and it follows me into my bedroom.
I’m half-naked, only in my running shorts, when my phone rings on top of my bed. I glance at it – Emmett is calling. Just seeing his name pop up gives my heart a little jump. A flicker under my stomach. Why would he be calling? What could he possibly want from me? I press my hand on the green phone icon before I come to my senses. What did I think I was doing?
I quickly swipe the red phone icon. Ha. Take that you pretentious prick.
He’s quick. A text pops up: I want you now.
He probably wants a ton of people, I think to myself. My stomach constricts. He’s probably drunk and horny – Lily did say the Whitworths were having a party today. The urge to text back almost takes over, but then he shatters the lusty build-up in my stomach.
I guess we’ll see what happens Monday.
Nope. Not going to give in. Anger starts to build in my chest, eradicating any sort of sick lust I had. My fingers vibrate with frustration and anger, and I want to text him a paragraph that he’ll never forget. But I resist.
I do what I should’ve done earlier: I delete his contact info. I know it’s a short term solution, but I don’t care.
As I curl up under the covers, I try and think what will happen on Monday. Lily’s shown me their scope of cruelty is limitless, and it takes me forever to fall asleep.
7
Chapter Seven
School goes by slowly.
Like, if a snail was drunk and stuck on a glue mouse trap.
That kind of slow.
The slow that burns and aches and makes you want to tear out your hair from boredom. The slow that whispers this isn’t supposed to be happening. The slow that is cloaked in tension so thick a circle saw wouldn’t cut through it.
The slow that said: Ophelia, just you wait.
I caught Emmett’s eyes two times in the hallway. Once, when I was exiting Calculus. He’d lounged against the lockers across the door, his hair ruffled, his gray eyes piercing. He wore his polo shirt half-untucked, and his collar was half-flipped, and he was making me half want to fix him up and half want to kick him.
He’d smiled at me, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. I gave him the middle finger, but his musical laugh followed me down the hall. My back broke into a sweat and my body tensed – for what? I didn’t know. To be tackled, to be squished against the wall, to be hauled up against his warm body...but nothing happened, and soon a headache pounded at my temples.
The other time had been when the bell dismissed us for lunch. The Elites normally join up at the end of the hall and sweep toward the lunchroom together. Like some weird show of power. All walking in a straight row, forcing everyone to move out of the way. I didn’t exit the building to my car fast enough, and I got caught walking toward them on my way out.
Emmett and Vivian, in another gross display of couply romance, were walking side by side. His arm was slung over her shoulder, and she had her hand looped into the back pocket of his pants. I noticed they didn’t hold hands – perhaps too gushy? Too romantic? Too much softness for them?