unbearable echo in your head. But I wasn’t listening anymore.
“Right,” he said, moving to pull my clothes from various piles.
Then Cameron used a calculator to total a bill I could’ve done in my head. Kind of hard not to mock him, but I managed. I’d blown cold enough for this encounter. Though I’d rather tongue kiss a tailpipe, now I had to convince him I didn’t think he was the most disgusting creature ever to crawl out of the primordial ooze.
Maybe I should go out for drama.
I handed him the credit card after he gave the damage. Pausing, he said, “Mildred Kramer? Huh.”
“It’s my mom’s card.” Though I was pretty sure that wasn’t why he was wearing the I’m-thinking-hard-and-it-hurts look.
“I figured. You don’t look like a Mildred.”
“She knows I have it, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
Go on and make the connection, genius.
“No, it’s not that. We had a girl named Kramer here last year.”
“Oh?” Noncommittal reply. “It’s a common name.”
“I guess. Are you a junior?”
I shook my head. If I wasn’t so determined to make him pay, I could almost feel sorry for Cameron, because he didn’t have enough cerebral wattage to light up a single Christmas bulb. “Senior this year. I’m surprised you don’t remember. You used to pay an awful lot of attention to me.”
“Eat-it?” he blurted. “I mean … Edith ?”
“My friends call me Edie,” I said breezily.
Not that he would ever number among them.
“Holy shit. What the hell did you do this summer?”
I just smiled. “Do you think you could run that card instead of tapping it on the counter? I still need to get school supplies.”
Mostly I wanted to get away from him before I started shaking or burst into tears. Remembering what he’d done to me—and how utterly fine with it he seemed—I could hardly breathe for the tightness in my chest. The shame washed high, higher, until it collared my throat, the spiked-leather dog version. Pure inner steel kept me upright and my lips curved into a smile that swore I wasn’t on the verge of total collapse.
“Yeah. Sorry.” Now he was awkward and fumbling.
Somehow I kept it together until he gave me the ticket to sign. I was an authorized user on my mom’s card, so I scrawled on the slip and passed it back. In return he handed me my bag of uniforms. Still have to figure out how to rock this without looking like I’m trying too hard.
“See you around,” I said.
Smooth strides carried me out of the store and then I practically ran into the restroom, where I leaned my head against the wall, trembling. Slowly the urge to barf passed, but before I straightened up, a girl came in. I recognized her as Jennifer Bishop, a peripheral member of the Teflon crew. She wasn’t as popular as Brittany or Allison, but since she was one of them, I couldn’t trust her. Jennifer had dark hair and eyes; she looked as if she had Thai heritage, though her last name didn’t reflect it.
“Are you all right?” she asked.
“Yeah, I just didn’t eat breakfast. I’m a little light-headed.” Bending down, I splashed some cold water on my face, then belatedly realized that most girls wouldn’t do that because it would destroy their makeup.
Looking in the mirror, I saw that I had, in fact, screwed up my eyeliner. With a faint sigh, I got a paper towel and did what I could to amend the damage. Now I got why girls in the Teflon crew carried around a cosmetics studio. Apparently I still had some things to learn.
“You can use mine if you want.” She was touching up her face, but the idea of risking pink eye was enough to make me shake my head.
“Thanks, but I’m headed home now anyway.”
“It’s Edith, right?”
I was honestly surprised. “Edie. Have we met?”
“No, but I know who you are.”
After what Cameron did, that was probably true of everyone at school, to say nothing of the five thousand viewers on YouTube. “What can I say, I’m
“Right,” he said, moving to pull my clothes from various piles.
Then Cameron used a calculator to total a bill I could’ve done in my head. Kind of hard not to mock him, but I managed. I’d blown cold enough for this encounter. Though I’d rather tongue kiss a tailpipe, now I had to convince him I didn’t think he was the most disgusting creature ever to crawl out of the primordial ooze.
Maybe I should go out for drama.
I handed him the credit card after he gave the damage. Pausing, he said, “Mildred Kramer? Huh.”
“It’s my mom’s card.” Though I was pretty sure that wasn’t why he was wearing the I’m-thinking-hard-and-it-hurts look.
“I figured. You don’t look like a Mildred.”
“She knows I have it, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
Go on and make the connection, genius.
“No, it’s not that. We had a girl named Kramer here last year.”
“Oh?” Noncommittal reply. “It’s a common name.”
“I guess. Are you a junior?”
I shook my head. If I wasn’t so determined to make him pay, I could almost feel sorry for Cameron, because he didn’t have enough cerebral wattage to light up a single Christmas bulb. “Senior this year. I’m surprised you don’t remember. You used to pay an awful lot of attention to me.”
“Eat-it?” he blurted. “I mean … Edith ?”
“My friends call me Edie,” I said breezily.
Not that he would ever number among them.
“Holy shit. What the hell did you do this summer?”
I just smiled. “Do you think you could run that card instead of tapping it on the counter? I still need to get school supplies.”
Mostly I wanted to get away from him before I started shaking or burst into tears. Remembering what he’d done to me—and how utterly fine with it he seemed—I could hardly breathe for the tightness in my chest. The shame washed high, higher, until it collared my throat, the spiked-leather dog version. Pure inner steel kept me upright and my lips curved into a smile that swore I wasn’t on the verge of total collapse.
“Yeah. Sorry.” Now he was awkward and fumbling.
Somehow I kept it together until he gave me the ticket to sign. I was an authorized user on my mom’s card, so I scrawled on the slip and passed it back. In return he handed me my bag of uniforms. Still have to figure out how to rock this without looking like I’m trying too hard.
“See you around,” I said.
Smooth strides carried me out of the store and then I practically ran into the restroom, where I leaned my head against the wall, trembling. Slowly the urge to barf passed, but before I straightened up, a girl came in. I recognized her as Jennifer Bishop, a peripheral member of the Teflon crew. She wasn’t as popular as Brittany or Allison, but since she was one of them, I couldn’t trust her. Jennifer had dark hair and eyes; she looked as if she had Thai heritage, though her last name didn’t reflect it.
“Are you all right?” she asked.
“Yeah, I just didn’t eat breakfast. I’m a little light-headed.” Bending down, I splashed some cold water on my face, then belatedly realized that most girls wouldn’t do that because it would destroy their makeup.
Looking in the mirror, I saw that I had, in fact, screwed up my eyeliner. With a faint sigh, I got a paper towel and did what I could to amend the damage. Now I got why girls in the Teflon crew carried around a cosmetics studio. Apparently I still had some things to learn.
“You can use mine if you want.” She was touching up her face, but the idea of risking pink eye was enough to make me shake my head.
“Thanks, but I’m headed home now anyway.”
“It’s Edith, right?”
I was honestly surprised. “Edie. Have we met?”
“No, but I know who you are.”
After what Cameron did, that was probably true of everyone at school, to say nothing of the five thousand viewers on YouTube. “What can I say, I’m
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