* * *
Misty had once again fixed dinner, since it seemed apparent that her mom wasn’t up to it.
“Soup and grilled cheese again?” her brother complained when she called him into the kitchen.
“Hush,” she told him, casting a warning look in the direction of their mother.
Jake was thirteen, which made him essentially clueless, as far as Misty could tell. He just snatched up his sandwich and the bowl of soup and left the table.
“I’m eating in my room,” he said on his way out.
Misty sighed, then turned her attention once more to her mother. “Mom, you have to eat something. You’ll get sick if you don’t.”
Her mother blinked and finally focused on her, then glanced at the food. “Oh, sweetie, you didn’t need to do this. I would have fixed something.”
“When, Mom? It’s already after seven. Besides, it’s no big deal to heat some soup and make sandwiches.”
“But it’s not your job to do that,” Diana protested halfheartedly. She ate a spoonful of the vegetable soup, then put aside her spoon. She left the sandwich untouched.
“Mom, please, eat some more.”
“I’m fine. Don’t worry about me. Has your father come home?”
Misty frowned. Wouldn’t they know it, if he were in the house? “No sign of him,” she said. “He hasn’t called, either.”
For a moment, her mother seemed to shake herself out of her lethargy. “Speaking of calls, I did have one today from Mariah Litchfield. What exactly is going on between you and Annabelle?”
“I told you the other day, don’t worry about it,” Misty said. “I’ve got it covered.”
“Not to hear Mariah tell it,” her mother said. “There was an incident of some kind at the fall festival?”
“I told you about that,” Misty said. “Annabelle and I had an argument, no big deal.”
“Are you sure?” her mother asked, regarding her intently. For the first time it seemed as if she truly cared about something other than what was going on in her own life. “You know that I’ve known Mariah most of my life. I know how she can be when it comes to Annabelle. You don’t want to mess with that girl, Misty. It’s better to steer clear of her.”
“Believe me, I’m trying to do just that,” Misty said.
“You’re not trying to make trouble for her? That’s what Mariah implied.”
“No way,” Misty said indignantly. She was doing everything in her power to avoid causing trouble. Annabelle was the one who kept pushing and making it almost impossible. “What did you tell Mrs. Litchfield?”
“That I’d have a word with you.”
“And now you have,” Misty said, unable to keep a hint of bitterness out of her voice.
Her mother gave her a sharp look. “Why do I have the feeling I’m missing something?”
“I have no idea,” Misty claimed. “I have homework. I’m going to my room.”
For once she was relieved that her mom didn’t argue. She didn’t even remind Misty to send Jake down to put the dishes in the dishwasher, which meant they’d probably still be on the kitchen table in the morning. Better that, though, than talking about Annabelle for one more minute.
* * *
Misty lingered once again after English, hoping to give the other kids time to move on to their other classes. Ms. Reed was pretty cool about it. She didn’t even bring up Annabelle for once. In fact, she looked almost as distracted as Misty’s mom did these days. Misty wondered what was going on in her life. Funny how she’d never considered what kind of lives teachers lived outside of school.
“Misty, you’d better hurry if you’re not going to be late,” Ms. Reed said eventually. “Unless there’s something you wanted to speak to me about.”
“Nothing,” Misty said hurriedly, quickly gathering up her books.
She’d no sooner stepped into the hallway than she was surrounded by Greg Bennett and two other guys from the football team.
“So, how about it?” Greg asked, crowding her, a leer on his face. “You’ve been skipping class a lot lately from what I hear. What’s one more time for a little fun? You and me, outside in my car? I promise you’d have a good time.”
Misty felt as if she was going to throw up right then and there. “Get out of my face, Greg,” she said, drawing on some tiny shred of inner strength.
He only laughed at her. His friends nudged each other, not even trying to hide their own amusement over her pitiful attempt to fend Greg off.
“Who’s going to make me?” he taunted. “Not you, that’s for sure.”
“How about Annabelle?” she suggested, looking him straight in the eye. “Could she make you back off? If she ever developed a spine, that is.”
Hoots greeted that comment, which clearly incensed Greg. “Annabelle’s got nothing to do with you and me.”
“She seems to think otherwise. She seems to think you’re her personal property. And I’m sick of taking the fall for you. I’m not after you. I’m not interested in you. I’d be happy if I never saw you again.” She glanced at his friends. “Get the message? Pass it on.”
She shoved past the three of them and practically ran to her next class. She didn’t stop shaking until the period was half over.
She’d pay for that little scene. She knew she would. Not that Greg would say a word about her rejecting him. His ego wouldn’t allow that. But those friends of his were blabbermouths. Annabelle would hear something from them or any one of a dozen kids who’d been passing by. By tonight, she’d be spewing more garbage on the internet.
But, Misty consoled herself, once she’d been called a slut and a zillion ugly rumors had been circulated about all the guys she was supposedly sleeping with, how much worse could things possibly get? At least for once she’d finally stood up for herself. If she could take on Greg—who was just a jerk—and survive, how hard could it be to find a way to deal with Annabelle?
Maybe she’d made a mistake all these weeks by letting herself be a victim. Didn’t they say that most bullies were really cowards? She’d assumed there was no way to fight back without making things worse, but maybe there was.
She just had to figure out what it might be. Amazingly, bit by bit, she was starting to feel strong enough to do just that.
9
Laura did her best
