Don't Look Back(43)

“Okay.” I still felt a little stung, even though I hadn’t planned on bringing anyone with me, but she seemed as if she genuinely wanted to be friends again.

Looking relieved, she smiled. “I have to work at the theater after school. It’s my shift today.”

“Oh, crap, I forgot.” Scott sighed. “Fine. I’ll be home before five. You can borrow it then, and I swear, if anything happens to my baby, it’s your ass.”

Ecstatic, I jumped up and leaned across the table, hugging him. “You’re the best.”

My brother’s jaw dropped. He shook his head, speechless, as I said good-bye to an equally shell-shocked Julie and headed to the back of the cafeteria. Only when I plopped my plate down beside Lauren did I realize Carson hadn’t been at the table. During bio, he’d acted as if nothing had happened between us, and that was probably for the best. At least until I figured out what I was going to do with Del.

I felt better than I had in days. It was as if I finally had a purpose, something to investigate, instead of sitting around in a daze. I dug into what I thought was sliced ham.

“So, I saw you talking to Julie.” Veronica picked at the label of her bottle of water. “Did you guys kiss and make up?”

“She was actually talking to her brother,” Lauren said, her eyes nervously bouncing between us.

“I don’t understand why your brother is with her,” Candy said. “He’s definitely dating down.”

I bit down on the anger building inside me. “What’s wrong with Julie? She’s really nice, and my brother likes her.”

“What’s wrong with her?” Candy glanced across the table at Veronica. “Her father works at a cigar shop in town. And not like he owns and works there, but, like, works there for minimumwage slave labor.”

“He does?” I feigned shock. “Holy crap, I can’t believe they let her attend school here.”

“I know!” Candy nodded.

Lauren smothered her laugh with her hand.

“She was being sarcastic,” Veronica explained, her cheeks flushed. “God, you’re such an idiot.”

“I’m not stupid.” Candy folded her slender arms and then giggled. “Okay. I may not be the smartest cookie in the shed.”

I stared at her. “It’s the sharpest tool in the shed.”

She shrugged. “Whatever.”

“So is everyone excited about prom?” Lauren asked, striving to lessen the tension building at the table. “It’s, like, less than a month from now. Daddy is getting me this champagne-colored—”

“Shut up,” Veronica snapped. “No one cares about your damn dress.”

“Hey! Don’t talk to her like that.” I clenched the fork. Good thing it was plastic, because I wanted to shove it into what I suspected were surgically enhanced lips. “Jesus.”

Veronica’s skin flushed an unpleasant shade of red under the tan. “Okay. You’re being a bitch, Sammy.”

“I am?” I put the fork down, dumbfounded. All the irritation bubbled up and spilled over. A rolling anger took hold. “I’m not making fun of someone because their parents aren’t rich or because they don’t wear size Gap Kids. That’s what you are doing.”

“Okay. I’m just going to have to be upfront with you.” She twisted toward me, clasping her hands in her lap. With her collared blouse over her gray sweater, she looked like she was ready to give a sermon. “I understand that you’ve had some problems—”

“You mean not having any memories?” I shot back.

“Whatever. But that’s no excuse for how you’ve been behaving. If you keep dressing like you’re a homeless chick and—”

“What’s wrong with how I’m dressed?” I was wearing jeans and a shirt, for crying out loud. Most of my clothes at home were way too nice to wear to school, and seriously? Why would I want to wear a damn dress or skirt every day?

She gave me a duh look. “And if you keep talking to people like them”—them had to be anyone with a median household income under six figures, I assumed—“you’re going to turn into a bottom-feeder. And we’re going to have serious problems.”

Our little spat was drawing the attention of the kids closest to us, and I could’ve just shut up then or got up and walked away, but I couldn’t. I was so tired of ... of everything—the looks, the snide comments, and how Veronica and Candy acted as if my memory wasn’t the only thing I was lacking. And maybe it was more than that—the frustration of not knowing anything, of being confused all the time.

Either way, I was so done with these bitches.

“You know what? We already have problems,” I said. Veronica’s eyes narrowed. “Is that so?”

“If getting my memories back means becoming a huge bitch like you? Yeah, I think I’ll pass on that.”

Some of the kids around us stopped eating. Others choked on whatever was in their mouths. My entire body burned with anger, and I wanted to say more than that, but I grabbed my tray and stood.

“Don’t ever think about sitting here again,” Veronica said, her chest rising rapidly.

“Fine with me,” I tossed back.

Drawing in a deep breath, she swirled in her seat. “You’re going to regret this.”