A Need So Beautiful (A Need So Beautiful #1)(43)

“I’m pretty sure we can get our drinks at the bar, Sarah,” I say. But she keeps going until she pushes out the back door.

We step outside onto the loading dock and Sarah starts to pace. “I wanted to be alone.”

I look around. “Mission accomplished. But if you’re trying to put together an art heist, count me out.”

She glares at me. “Not funny.”

“It’s a little funny.”

“No, really. It’s not,” she says. Her heels clack on the concrete as she walks back and forth in front of me. “The nuns called a little while ago.”

Chills run over me and I wrap my arms around myself. Sarah is staring at the ground as she continues to pace. Now I feel guilty for the art heist joke. “What did they say?”

She pauses, and then turns to me abruptly. “That I’m setting a bad example for the underclassmen. Seems Seth told the nuns I was starting rumors about him. That I was ‘desperate’ for attention, so I was trying to ruin his reputation.”

“He didn’t!”

“Oh yes. He even said that he was concerned about my mental stability. They let my father know that little tidbit too.”

“Wait. Douchebag Seth, who told everyone about you, went to the nuns and said you were spreading lies about him. Why would he do that? I don’t—”

“When I met him at lunch he asked me to clear up the rumor about his inadequate size.” She shrugs. “Which, by the way, is true. But he said his friends were making fun of him, calling him Tiny Tim.” She shakes her head. “I couldn’t believe that was the reason he wanted to meet with me. I thought he was going to apologize! He owes me a goddamn apology!

“So I refused. He called me a slut. I slapped him in the face. It was all very dramatic and awful, but I thought that was it. Apparently not. Instead he marched down to the main office and told Sister Mary Angela that I was out of control and sleeping around. And when I tried to get with him and he refused, I spread the rumor.”

“Why would they believe him? That’s ridiculous!”

She pauses. “Remember Brandon One-Brain-Cell Whaler? Well, he vouched for him. Said he did it with me in the locker room. He was so repentant that they didn’t even suspend him.”

“That lying bastard! I should have kneed him—hard—when I bumped into him in class. He’s so dead.”

Sarah glances up and a few tears leak from her eyes. “The closest I’ve ever gotten to doing it with Brandon was in seventh grade when I told him his breath smelled like Cool Ranch Doritos. He never touched me. I never let him touch me—”

Sarah breaks into sobs and I wrap my arms around her and hold her tight.

“My father’s pulling me out of St. Vincent’s. He says I’ve humiliated him.”

“What?” First of all, I’m furious that the nuns would believe anything Seth or Brandon said, especially without evidence. And then to tell her father? It’s so completely wrong I want to scream.

Sarah pulls back to look at me. “I guess you really aren’t psychic, huh?” she says in a small voice.

And my heart breaks seeing how much pain she’s in.

“I promise you I would never have let this happen if I were.”

She nods. “That’s too bad.” She smiles sadly and I hug her again, resenting the Need. Hating the light. I should have been with her today, not with Sister Dorothy.

Sarah sniffles and rests her head on my shoulder. “The stupid thing is, I liked Seth. And more than anything, I’m . . . hurt. Why wasn’t I good enough for him? How could he do this to me?”

“Oh, please. You are a million times better than that cruel bastard. He’s like, bottom of the barrel, scum of the earth. And you’re mostly nice. Like more than eighty percent of the time.” I straighten her up and fix one of the curls that has come loose from her barrette. “And besides, you’re way too hot for him anyway.”

She laughs, wiping at her cheeks. “You know just what to say.” Sarah dabs her finger under her eye to wipe off the mascara that’s started to run. “I’m going to be a freaky homeschooled kid now.”

“No, you won’t,” I say, taking her purse from her arm and going through it to find her compact. “And besides, homeschooled kids are not freaky.”

“They have no fashion sense.”

“Urban legend. Look at me, I have no fashion sense and I attend the esteemed St. Vincent’s Academy for Troubled Youths.”

Sarah laughs and takes the compact from my hands as I hold it out. She groans when she catches sight of her reflection.

“Now,” I say. “Pull yourself together. I can’t do this stuffy event without you. You have unshakable confidence and that makes you the stronger one in this friendship, so act like it.”

Her smile fades. “No,” she says softly. “You’re the rock, Charlotte. You’ve held me together all these years. Still do.”

“And I always will.” As I say it, I want to make it true. I want to get rid of the Need and be her friend for life. I’m going to try.

Sarah pats powder under her eyes before returning the compact to her bag. When she’s done, I reach out my hand to her. “Ready for that drink now?”

“Oh, I’m going to have, like, six.”