here.”
“I’m not going to tell her,” Arabella said.
Beth swayed in her chair and Arabella nearly leaped out of hers, ready to
catch Beth if she fell face first into the desk. If she was willing to gamble,
she’d place her bets on the possibility of a pass out. Beth grasped the chair’s
arms and kept herself seated. She blinked, and though she still looked
dazed, some of the color appeared on her cheeks again. Arabella was
actually relieved, even though seeing Beth’s color, her relief, her shock, felt
like knives in her own stomach.
“Why? Why wouldn’t you tell her? You’re going to get fired.” Beth
spelled that out like she thought Arabella hadn’t realized it.
She couldn’t think about that now. She couldn’t even start to go there.
She couldn’t start worrying again about how she’d find another job, how
she’d afford the mortgage on their house, how she’d afford her parents’
health insurance. She could go there later. She’d have lots of time to think
about that when she didn’t have a job.
Or a girlfriend.
That was too painful to process.
She wasn’t a martyr. Honestly, she wasn’t. It was just that she’d met
Shannon. She remembered how worried and tired she looked. Sky was
adorable and her older sister was probably just as amazing.
Arabella wanted to give Shannon’s girls an opportunity to go to the right
school. To succeed. With the right kind of teachers and encouragement and
a setting that was just right for them, who knew what they could be?
She didn’t want another girl to have the same high school experience
she’d had. Where she hated every single day of it. Faked her way through it.
Bullied people because that’s what pretty, popular girls did. She hated that
she’d stayed at the top of that hierarchy, no matter what. She wanted to
spare someone else from having the same terrible experience. From
becoming something they didn’t want to be. Maybe if Shannon’s girls had