“Shame. Anger. Hatred. Not toward you though, but toward myself. I don’t know if you remember me screaming. I don’t think I stopped until they took you away, and I punched the wall so hard I broke my knuckle.” He sits up and points at a tile, still cracked from that incident so long ago. It’s like life, I guess, how one small action can change the fate of the world forever.
“And your grandfather … why did he cut your parents off in the first place?” Zack’s mouth tightens into a thin line, and he looks away, focusing on a dick drawn in Sharpie next to the toilet. It says Emily Loves Brad’s Cock. I stand up and dig around in my purse for a moment, pulling out my own permanent marker and scratching the words out with the squeak of pen on tile.
“My dad, and his dad, they don’t exactly see eye to eye on … well, anything. Politics, religion, economics. They’re polar opposites. They got in some huge fight over the direction of the company. My dad never joined the Infinity Club. He wanted to make an honest living with the business. My grandpa …” Zack scoffs as I turn back to look at him. “He said there was no chance to make real money without the Infinity Club. He’s right, by the way.”
Zack stands up and leans back against the wall as I toy with the idea of writing a few choice phrases on the tiles myself. But then I just feel bad for the janitor and end up tucking the pen away again.
“He’s right about the money, that is. But he never should’ve pushed me to join, and my dad never should’ve let him.” Zack stares at the floor for a moment, and when he lifts his gaze to mine, I can see the worry there, the worry that I’ll never truly be able to forgive him and Lizzie for what they did. “I was young, and stupid. If I could go back in time, I wouldn’t do it again. I’d go to Lower Banks High instead. My only regret would be that I didn’t get to go to Burberry with you.”
“Miranda says you’re too perfect,” I tell him, turning around and trying to gauge his reaction. “She says you do all the right things and say all the right things, but that you’re probably full of shit.”
Zack grins and shrugs his shoulders.
“She’s probably right. Marnye, I’m not a nice person. I’m learning, but … I still have a long way to go.” He exhales and his grin fades into a tempered smile. “Do you want to grab the food I got from the Station and walk over to the elementary school? I’ll push you on the swing and we can eat silver dollar pancakes on the picnic tables?”
“I think I’ve seen all I need to see here,” I say, letting Zack put an arm around me and lead me back outside and over to the fence. Just before I climb through, I look across the campus one last time, say a silent goodbye, and leave Lower Banks Middle School behind for the last time.Charlie wasn't exactly thrilled with the idea of me going to a rock concert with a bunch of dudes, but I think having Miranda and Lizzie there mollified him a bit. That, and he gave me the whole you'll be eighteen soon talk again.
Pretty sure the hidden undertones to that conversation were I'm not going to be around forever, so you need to make smart choices as an adult. I chose to ignore that part. Well, just the not going to be around forever bit. I try to make smart choices always.
The tour bus is pretty much just a rich person's version of an RV. I mean, I like it, but it doesn't wet my panties.
“Most girls get soaked when they look at this thing,” Zayd is saying, sitting on the counter and drinking a beer. I keep waiting for us to hit a pothole, so I can see his arrogant rock star ass go flying. I've already threatened to film it and post it on YouTube.
“Well, I guess I'm not most girls,” I quip back, enjoying the red leather bench seat I'm lounging on. With Creed on my right and Windsor on my left, I feel like a freaking princess.
“Nah, you're different than most girls for sure,” Zayd says, voice softening, green eyes going half-lidded. That sensual look of his only lasts so long as it takes Miranda to chuck her empty beer bottle at him. He dodges it and it plunks into the sink. “What the fuck was that for?”
“Saying someone isn't 'like most girls',” Miranda starts, making little quotes with her fingers, “is misogynistic as fuck. It implies there's something wrong with being like a girl in the first place. Don't do it.”
