Two
Raven
I end up crossing paths with my uncle on my way out. He’s in the kitchen, sitting at the table, eating breakfast, and reading a newspaper. He doesn’t look a lot like my dad—shorter and stockier with a bald spot on his head—which I’m grateful for. He’s also dressed in his uniform.
I try to pass by the kitchen without being noticed and hurry toward the front door, but he glances up before I can make a quick exit.
His gaze sweeps across me then he frowns. “You’re really going to go to school dressed like that?”
I bite back a rude remark and shrug. “Yep.”
He eyes me over again, making my skin crawl. “You look like a slut.”
M anger ticks, and I want nothing more than to walk up and clock him in the face. But I fight the urge and turn for the door, preparing to walk out.
“You better not get into trouble today,” he calls out after me. “If you do, you’ll be punished. I mean it, Ravenlee. You’ll learn to obey, even if I have to—”
I rush out the front door and close it behind me, cutting off whatever threat he was about to throw my way.
I might pay for the move later, but right now, all I want to worry about is getting through school, so I keep my head low and climb into the backseat of my aunt’s car.
“God, it took you long enough. You can move so slow sometimes, Ravenlee,” my aunt gripes as she drives down the driveway, heading for the main road.
I shrug and stare out the window, too tired to get into it with her right now.
I really need some coffee. And breakfast. Why did my uncle have to be in the kitchen this morning?
I zone out for most of the ride to school while Dixie May babbles about some reality TV show she’s been watching. Aunt Beth occasionally joins in on the conversation, but Dixie May is usually the one to fill up the silence. The girl could probably break the world record for her ability to talk and talk and talk, especially about reality TV.
As soon as my aunt pulls up to the school, Dixie May’s focus switches.
“This is seriously the school we have to go to?” She crinkles her nose at the brick building. “It’s so small. And where the hell is student parking?”
“I’m sure it’s around here somewhere,” Aunt Beth tells her as she stops in the student drop-off area at the front. “Maybe at the back of the school.”
Dixie May glares at her mother. “Well, they better have it, because there’s no way in hell I’m parking Cutie in this tiny parking lot when it arrives.”
Cutie is Dixie May’s BMW that she got for her sixteenth birthday. Her parents didn’t want her racking up miles on it when we moved, so they had it shipped over. It hasn’t arrived yet, something Dixie complains about every day.
Me? I’m kind of grateful it hasn’t arrived because, when it does, I have to go back to riding to school with her. And she usually ends up leaving me stranded after school, so I either have to walk home or catch the city bus. I don’t think Honeyton has a city bus, which means I’ll end up having to walk the five miles home. I’d be okay with, except Honeyton’s winters are supposed to be intense.
“I’ll look into it,” Aunt Beth assures her.
“You better.” Dixie May frowns at the school. “Great. I bet there’s not even any FHs here.”
I roll my eyes. FHs stand for fuckable hotties in Dixie May language.
“Oh, I’m sure there are.” My aunt smiles as she points at a muscular guy walking past our car. “Look at him. He’s cute.”
"Ew, Mom, you're so disgusting. Seriously, are you having a mid-life crisis or something?" Dixie May says with her nose crinkled. Then she sticks out one hand in her mom's direction while pulling the visor down. "Give me some lunch money, so I get out of here and away from your gross comments."
“Oh, okay.” My aunt starts rummaging through her purse.
While Dixie May waits for her mom to dig out some money, she does a quick check of her hair and makeup. She fixes a couple of her blonde curls, twisting them before flipping up the visor. Then she glances down at the pink top and white skirt she’s wearing, smoothing out a few invisible wrinkles. By the time she’s finished, Aunt Beth has put a twenty-dollar bill into her palm.
Dixie May stuffs it into her bag then shoves the door open and moves to get out, but then she pauses, glancing over her shoulder at me. “Don’t even think about talking to me today. You know what will happen if you do.”
“You’ll have to pull out a dictionary to look up all the above four-letter words I’ll use?” I question.
“Ravenlee,” my aunt snaps. “Don’t be a brat.”
“Yeah, Ravenlee, don’t be a brat, or else everyone here is going to find out who you really are,” Dixie May sneers with a smirk.
The muscles in my jaw tick, and I curl my fingers inward, stabbing my fingernails into my flesh, wrestling back the urge to punch that smirk off her face.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” Dixie May smirks at me one more time before climbing out of the car.
“Have a nice day,” my aunt says to Dixie May, who shoves the door closed without even replying.
My aunt lets out a quiet sigh as Dixie May walks away, heading for the entrance doors. Once she’s inside, Aunt Beth looks away, frowning at the passenger seat. “Crap, she forgot her makeup case.” She reaches over, picks up a sparkly case, and hands it to me. “Find Dixie May and give this to her. And don’t even think about stealing it. I’m going to text her to let her know you have it.”
“She doesn’t want me to talk to her, remember?” Not that I’m actually going to obey Dixie May. I really just don’t want to talk to her or carry around her stupid sparkly case.
“I’m sure it’ll be fine if you’re giving her the case,” she insists. When I make no effort to take it, she gives me a dirty look. “She needs her makeup, and you’re going to take it to her because, unlike you, my daughter cares about her appearance.”
“So what if I don’t care?” I stuff the case into my bag. “Looking pretty isn’t the most important thing in the world.”
She arches a brow. “Have you looked in the mirror lately? You look like a homeless person.”
Sometimes, I think she treats me so shitty because of how her husband and daughter treat her, like she’s deflecting all her bottled-up aggravation on me. It used to hurt. Now, it just pisses me off and makes me want to annoy her.
“Yeah, well, it’s better than looking like a skank,” I tell her.
Her eyes widen in horror. “My daughter does not look like a skank. How dare you say so?”
I raise a brow at her. “Who said I was talking about your daughter?”
She shakes her head furiously. “You know what? It’s time for you to get out of this car. I’m sick of looking at you.”
I’m more than ready to get out, but as I peer outside at the school, a drop of anxiety rises inside me.
Dixie May was right. It's a really small school. Way smaller than the one we used to go to. I don't know whether to be nervous about that or not. On the one hand, it means fewer people will mock me. But it also means people will be nosier.