“Yeah,” Anna said. “He said Parker’d called him once word started getting around. Said he sounded drunk, talkin’ about helpin’ Grant get revenge on you and putting you in your place.”
“Oh,” I said, pulling on the strap of my dress. I was shivering even though I didn’t feel cold. I didn’t feel much of anything. “That was nice of him.”
“Amanda?” Layla said, taking my hand and giving me a worried look. “You okay?”
“No,” I said, realizing for the first time just how badly I was shaking.
“Want us to call the police?” Anna said. I looked over my shoulder and saw Chloe watching me, both eyebrows raised.
“Do you want to go to the hospital?” Layla added.
“No,” I said.
The last thing I wanted was for a nurse to take pictures of me. The last thing I wanted was a night spent with police officers who had probably already heard about me by now, and wanted to ask questions about my private parts instead of about what had happened. I just wanted to forget everything about tonight. I wanted it to be over.
Chloe prodded Parker once with the rifle and barked for him to leave. He complied quickly, jumping into his truck and driving off into the night.
“If you say so,” Layla said. She was quiet for a moment, then looked right into my eyes. “What can we do?”
“Please just take me home,” I said.
29
I laid my head against the passenger window as Layla drove silently. The chilly glass was a relief on the throbbing skin where Parker’s punch had landed. I closed my left eye—the right was already swelling shut—and willed myself through time. I wanted this car ride to be over. I wanted to skip the conversation with Dad and the bus ride back to Atlanta and Mom’s worried looks and just be back in my room in Smyrna with the blackout curtains pulled tight.
“I owe you an apology,” Layla said. I glanced in her direction but didn’t say anything. “I’m sorry we just stood there, in the gym.”
“It’s okay,” I said. “I wouldn’t know how to handle me if I were you.”
“That’s not even it,” Layla said, shaking her head. “It’s—”
“Don’t lie to me, okay?” I said louder than I meant to, making a cutting motion with my hand. “Thanks for what you did with Parker, but you can stop pretending.”
“Amanda…”
“I’m a freak,” I said. Tears came but I wasn’t sad. I thought maybe I was angry, but I didn’t know who I was angry at. Grant, for not loving me. Parker, for what he had done. My dad for warning me, for being right. Myself maybe, for thinking I could ever be happy. “I’m a freak, and jerks like Parker are always going to want to see the freak show, as long as they know the truth about me.”
“Amanda!” Layla said. I sniffled and scowled at her, but the look she gave me withered my anger. “Don’t you dare talk about my friend that way.” She reached out and grabbed my left hand with her right. I flinched at the touch but quickly accepted it. “The truth is that you’re my friend, Amanda. You’re one of the most beautiful girls I’ve ever known, inside and out.”
“Really?” I said, wiping my nose.
“Hell yeah,” Layla said. “I mean, I’m trying to picture what you must’ve been like before you became Amanda, and I can’t even think of a way the Amanda I know could ever pull off being a boy.”
“I wasn’t very good at it,” I said, a small smile twitching at my mouth. Layla smiled in return.
“Listen,” she said, after a short silence fell between us. “We love you no matter what.”
“I love you guys too.” I smiled, and my bruised temple throbbed painfully.
We pulled into my apartment complex. I thanked her again and started to get out, but she squeezed my hand and gave me a serious look.
“You don’t have to go in,” she said. “You can come stay with me tonight.”
“No,” I said, taking my hand from hers and giving her a reassuring smile. “Thank you, but no. I’m feeling better.”
“Okay,” Layla said. “I’m gonna wait out here for half an hour though. If you feel like you need to be around friends, just come on out and we’ll have a sleepover.”
I thanked Layla again and limped up the stairs, dreading the coming conversation with Dad. I reached our door and started to turn the knob when it was yanked open from within. Dad stood in the doorway, his shoulders squared and his expression full of worry.
“Oh my God,” he said, softly at first and then louder again as he looked me up and down. He pushed past me without saying anything and started stomping down the breezeway stairs.
“Wait,” I said, trying to follow him and nearly falling down the stairs on my twisted ankle. “Where are you going?”
“I’m gonna fucking kill him!” Dad said, a few seconds before his car door slammed and the engine kicked to life. I reached the parking lot just in time to see him speeding off into the night. Layla was already getting out of her car and walking over, her eyes wide.
“What was that?” she said.
“We have to go,” I said, limping past her to her car.
“Where’s he going?”
“Grant’s house,” I said, my hands shaking as I buckled myself in.