Very Bad Things
Page 46

I spat in his face and glared at him, welcoming the fury that now coursed through my body, overtaking the fear and refusing to let this happen to me.
He blinked and reached up to wipe away the spit, giving me just enough room to raise my leg and knee him hard in the crotch. He yelped out and collapsed to the ground with his legs bent up around his waist.
“What the hell, Nora?” he gasped out. “I wasn’t gonna do anything! I was just playing around!”
My entire body shook. My hands, my arms, my legs, and even my face felt like it was vibrating. I wanted to jump on his prone body and tear him to bits; I wanted to take my fists and slam them down over and over against his face; I wanted to make him hurt like I’d been hurt so many times. Instead, I bent over, closed my eyes and dragged in deep gulps of air.
He moaned and sat up, peering up at me with rage. I didn’t care. My rage was bigger than his. “If you ever come near me again, I will fucking kill you. Do you understand me? I’m not afraid of you,” I bit out.
I’d faced worse evil than quarterback Matt Dawson.
I left him there and ran for the patio, anxious to leave this house that reminded me too much of my own. I found Mila by the pool, surrounded by friends. I tried to explain why I was ready to go without saying too much when she announced, “Trouble at two o’clock. Evil bitch and copycat cohort arriving in three, two, one . . . annnd . . .they’re here.”
Emma and April planted themselves in front of me. Shit. When would this night be over?
Getting straight to it, Emma pointed her finger in my face. “Did you think I wouldn’t see you dancing with my boyfriend?”
I laughed at the absurdity of it all. “No one wants your boyfriend but you. Oh, and April here,” I smirked.
“You broke us up, skank! You lied about him and April. Matt and I have been together for years, and no freak-of-nature brainiac is going to take him away from me,” she snapped.
I shook my head in disgust. I never wanted to be near Matt Dawson again. I just wanted to leave this fucked-up party and never come back to this house.
“What? Nothing to say to me, Nora?” Emma said and nudged April, “Look, the bee girl is out of words.”
Something about Emma truly frightened me. Always had. Maybe that was part of the reason I’d always let her push me around. And as I stared at her, I realized why. She reminded me of Mother with her skillful sarcasm and scathing cut-downs. Both of them were snakes, cold-blooded and masters at spotting weaknesses in opponents, which they’d use to plan nasty attacks.
Suddenly Mila jumped in front of me, bless her heart. “Leave us alone, Emma,” she told the viper. “Matt asked her to dance.”
Emma chortled. “Is sweet Miss Priss taking up for the geek?” she sneered, pushing her fingers into Mila’s chest until Mila staggered back and fell into a chair. Emma tossed her full cup of beer into Mila’s face and turned back to me, her eyes like death rays. “Boyfriend-stealing sluts are not allowed at my party, so leave.”
My adrenaline from my skirmish with Matt rose back up to the surface. I’d had enough. Enough of guys putting me second, enough of people pushing me around and telling me what to do, and enough of trying to please them all. None of them knew the real me, the one that carried a six-inch knife.
Plus, she’d just poured beer all over the sweetest person I knew.
“Emma, do you know what your problem is?”
Emma twisted her lips. “I don’t care what you think, bitch.”
“You’re a mean person, and these people here aren’t really your friends,” I said. “Oh, they’ll kiss up to you because they want to be popular, but behind your back, they talk about that mole on your cheek that looks like a zit or how big your ass is in that mini skirt.”
She grinned evilly. “Everyone wants to be me, Nora. I’m not just a cheerleader; I’m the cheerleader at BA. I’ll always be the popular girl. And you won’t.”
I cut my eyes at her bestie. “Why are you still friends with April? Guess you gotta keep your enemies close, huh? Making sure she doesn’t sleep with Matt again?” I said, purposely pushing the one button I knew set her off.
Her face turned a bright cardinal red. She cursed and shoved me hard, making me stumble and crash to the concrete on my bottom. My elbows caught most of my fall, and when I glanced at them, blood was dripping down my arms. I tried to get up, but she kicked me in the stomach before I could roll away from her heels. I managed to stand, determined to not let her kick my ass in front of the entire senior class.
She laughed. “Matt was only using you to make me mad.”
“Matt is a serious douche,” I said, squaring off against her.
She called me a very unladylike name and ran at me, but I stepped to the side at the last minute. She turned around quickly, though, and elbowed me hard in the ribs, except this time I managed to balance myself. She came at me again . . . and I slugged her in the face with my fist. I clearly had no idea how to land a good punch, but Mila and I had watched Fight Club junior year. My fist must have connected well because she screamed and stood there, holding her eye.
“I can’t believe you hit me!” she screamed. She ran at me like a crazy woman at a Macy’s clearance sale, her hands slapping wildly at my face. It became a full-fledged chick fight when she yanked a handful of my hair. When I saw the hunk of red she’d pulled out of my head, I returned the favor.
She teetered when she tried to kick me again with her stilettos, and I heard someone in the crowd laugh. She grabbed at the bodice of my dress and tugged, trying to rip it off. Her sharp fingernails pressed against my piercing, and I screamed out, the pain slicing through my chest. I threw her off me.