Читать книгу Mine - S.A Partridge - Страница 16

I hate my life. I hate everything. School. Music. Ma. I want to go to another school, where no one knows my name.

Craig is there when I get home. He looks me up and down in my black dress like he’s never seen a girl before. “You been on a hot date or something?” he asks, grinning.

“No. I had a music recital.”

He would have known that if he was my boyfriend. He would have been there supporting me, telling me how amazing I was. I erase the image of Ponytail Boy out my head. He doesn’t know me. And he has a girlfriend – Julia Montgomery, of all people. One of the Queen Bitches. Those girls would kill me if they knew I was giving Julia’s boyfriend the eye. And he’s clearly a cheater.

I untwist the straps of my gladiator sandals.

Craig sits down on the bed and runs his hand over my leg. “You look pretty,” he says.

My head drops. I know Craig – the compliments always come first. I hate myself for wanting this.

“Go lock the door,” I say.

While Craig nuzzles into my neck, I shut my eyes and imagine Sebastian’s cello piece that he’s spent weeks practising for, with Leo on bassoon. I’ve always loved the cello. And I replay Lucinda’s words in my head. Replay the conversation in Sebastian’s bedroom. Replay the word “pretty”. Pretty, pretty, pretty.

Something shifts inside me. It strikes me that I’m addicted to this feeling of disappointment. It’s a warped sense of satisfaction that comes when people reveal their true selves. I should know better than to try so hard to fit in. The knowledge simmers inside me. Next time, I won’t be fooled so easily.

“Kayla?” Lorenda calls through the door.

I push Craig away. “Yes, Lorenda?”

“It’s late. Please say goodbye to your friend.”

I turn to Craig. “You heard her. Go home.”

He tries to act cool while he puts on his shoes, and shoots me with pistol fingers before leaving.

I exhale. That was very nearly another mistake.

I put on some music and lie back on my bed. I can’t keep doing this.

For the first time in a long while, I don’t reach for my diary. I don’t need to remind myself that I’m a huge fool.