I can only stare at her, stunned at her apparent obliviousness. “You don’t really believe that, do you? I’m the one ignoring his texts. If I wanted Hunter, I could have him on a silver platter. I don’t; I prefer my men faithful.”
She crosses her arms and glares at me. I guess she doesn’t have a snappy comeback for that one.
As much as I loathe her, as evil as she has been to me, some part of me wonders if maybe she really doesn’t get it. I’m not even trying to be mean when I say the next thing, I just think someone should tell her in case she doesn’t already know. “He doesn’t like you, Valerie. He’s only using you to get a rise out of me.”
I can tell by the fiery glint in her eyes this is not the first time the thought has occurred to her. “Bullshit. He got drunk and made a poor decision. You. You were the poor decision.”
I cock an eyebrow. “He was stone cold sober when it happened, so I’m not sure how that defense could have possibly worked.”
“Everyone was drunk, stupid,” she snaps.
“I wasn’t.”
“That’s because you’re a fucking freak. You must have been hiding in a corner somewhere, nobody even remembers you being there.”
I don’t say anything as Valerie huffs and straightens. I get the impression that my presence baited her and she has engaged with me far more than she meant to.
Working to reclaim her composure, she pointedly straightens her shoulders and her cheerleading uniform, then pastes on a fake smile and plants a hand on Sara’s shoulder.
“Anyway, I didn’t come over here to talk to this fugly skank-whore. It was you I wanted to talk to.”
Sara stares up at her blankly. “Me?”
Valerie nods cheerfully, then leans down as if she’s sharing a secret. “I heard a rumor you liked Wally Kazinsky.”
Sara flushes. I’m certain the color reaches clear down to her toes.
“Well,” Valerie continues, her tone friendly and coaxing, “he was asking about you.”
“What?” Sara breathes.
Concern steals over me. I can tell Sara is blown away by this news, stunned, shocked, completely awestruck.
I am a little more skeptical. Not of someone liking Sara—she’s my friend and I think she’s incredible, I just don’t think Wally sees that.
Valerie nods, her pretty face so effectively portraying excitement, it would be easy to believe it was genuine.
I don’t, though. I’ve known her for too long. This girl has shown her true colors over and over again, and she hasn’t changed. The whole reason Sara and I were relegated to social Siberia pre-Hunter was because even as a child, Valerie was an asshole.
“Why don’t you come sit with us today?” Valerie asks Sara. “That way he could talk to you. He’s single right now,” she adds playfully, as if her offer wasn’t already enticing enough.
Sara can scarcely breathe as she looks at me across the table. I can see she’s conflicted.
On one hand, Valerie has fanned the flames against me every chance she got for the past four years, and relegated Sara to social obscurity for no other reason than her epilepsy—a truly heinous, abominable reason to exclude someone.
On the other, this is Wally.
“Will you hate me?” Sara asks, cringing even as the awful words leave her mouth.
It feels as if an ice cube is sliding down into my stomach, but I try not to let it show.
I can’t summon any words, but I shake my head no.
“Are you sure?” she asks.
I still can’t find words. Is she really going to leave me here to go off with Valerie Johnson?
My breathing becomes slightly more labored, but I nod my head, summoning a weak, shaky smile. Finally, I force a jumble of words out of my mouth. “Go, if you want to.”
She’s torn, but only for a split second. Taking my permission as a blessing, she quickly stands and gathers her food on her tray. She steals one last uncertain look at me.
“Be careful,” I tell her lowly, not wanting her to get hurt.
She flashes me a smile, but as she turns and rushes after Valerie, I know my words have fallen on deaf ears.
I try not to feel completely abandoned. Utterly betrayed.
I know how much Sara likes Wally, how long she’s carried this torch for him.
I just can’t believe she ditched me at Valerie Johnson’s behest.
I’m completely alone at the table now.
The crowded cafeteria around me buzzes with chatter.
I look across the room as Sara takes a seat at Valerie’s table, and the girls nearby fuss over her as if every last one of them hasn’t deliberately ignored her for the past 12 years.
I glance over to Hunter’s table where Anderson has been allowed to sit on the very end—still a ways from Hunter, but no longer at the run-off table. Since Hunter doesn’t know we got back together, he’s been allowed back into the fold.
I hate this school.
I’m not given to feelings of loneliness, but a wave of it sweeps over me now and threatens to drag me away.
Sitting here with Sara was one thing, but I’m not going to sit at this table by myself.
Quickly, I gather my things.
Typically, I wouldn’t want Valerie to see that she’d won a round, but I’d rather leave now and let her think she pissed me off than stay and let her realize she made me legitimately sad.
Chapter Twenty Eight
Riley
There’s a big oak tree out in front of the school with a trunk thick enough that if you sit in front of it, you can almost disappear. That’s where I pick to finish my lunch.
I have less time to eat since I’ve fled the school, but in an uncharacteristic turn, I don’t really care if I run late and miss my next class.
It’s a lovely day today. Warm, but not hot if you have a nice spot in the shade, which I do.
Birds chirp. There’s a gentle breeze. I close my eyes and breathe in the fresh air.
It’s a nice reminder that there’s a whole big world outside of high school.
I remind myself of that as I get comfortable against the base of the tree and finish my applesauce. I unpack my sandwich next and pop open the bag of chips.
Since I’m alone, I might as well make this a working lunch.
I don’t have my school books with me since I planned to have lunch with Sara, but I do have the moleskin notebook Hunter bought for the newspaper staff tucked in my Coach purse.
I grab it and dig out a pen, then I start brainstorming story ideas and jotting down details while I eat.
I nearly jump out of my skin when someone walks around the tree and penetrates my force field of invisibility. I half expect it to be Sara, but when I look up, I see expensive jeans and a letter jacket.
Hunter.
My eyes widen in surprise. I know he’s on top of his stalking game, but leaving his table at lunch? I imagine the whole social infrastructure might collapse.
“Scoot over,” he says.
I frown, but move over to make room beside me in front of the massive oak, anyway. “What are you doing?”
He sits down beside me, resting his muscular back against the tree trunk and grabbing his container full of carrot sticks. “Finishing lunch.” He tips the cup in my direction. “Want one?”