She ran up the steps, not caring that her leg hurt now and her previously broken ribs were achy. She finished getting ready in the bathroom, stopping only to shut the curtains so no one could see in, just in case. Because of the morning’s events, she didn’t have time to cake on her makeup and apply the scar concealer like normal. It never truly covered the scar, not completely. The crease was so deep and ugly there was no way to ever make it completely go away. But today, thanks to her overactive imagination, it would really shine. Oh. Joy.
Sloan ran into her room, mentally going through her closet with every step to cut out time. She opened her closet and started pulling out a black-and-gold Chapel Hill High School shirt and jeans. Simple. Today, simple was good. She grabbed some undergarments from the vanity. When she shut the drawers, something behind her caught her eye. Not trusting that again, she turned around to see it with her own eyes.
On the nightstand lay the five roses from the night before. She could have sworn she’d thrown them in the trash.
SLOAN DID ABOUT FIVE miles over the speed limit all the way to school, but she didn’t get pulled over, have a wreck, or get there late. At seven-fifty, she rolled into Chapel Hill High School and into her normal parking spot. Number four seventeen. All the way in the corner next to the fence and overgrown trees. She hated that the limbs hung over her car, dropping nasty leaves all over the shiny new exterior. Oh well. At least she had a shiny new car to get leaves on. Definitely a bonus.
Everyone else walked up the hill toward the school, clearing the parking lot. Sloan got out, grabbed her bag, and slammed her door. Knowing her scar was shining exceedingly bright today, she put on her brave face and just went with it. They’d all seen it before, and if they hadn’t, tough. They’d get used to it or not. It was part of her now. Not her favorite part, but definitely a part.
Praying she wasn’t late, she hurried as fast as she could up the hill and to her locker. By the time she got there, the hallway was nearly empty as the others had already found their way to class. She had Biology next, a long walk away. She groaned and leaned on her locker, wishing after all this time the pain would just go away for good. She was eighteen, way too young to hurt that much.
“Problem?”
Sloan looked up and saw the person she used to see every morning. The one who had taunted her and shoved her relationship with Boyd down her throat any chance she got: Darcy Perry.
She had on normal clothes for once, not cheerleader attire. With a light gray short-sleeved shirt, black sweater, and jeans, she oozed beauty. Her blond hair was down around her shoulders, and she was smiling. Darcy had gone from being her best friend to her tormentor when Sloan had gotten saved. She’d become an acquaintance again after Boyd attacked Darcy too. They’d chatted a few times. Nothing earth shattering since the day in the hospital, but they did get along fairly well. It surprised Sloan to see Darcy at her locker, though. She didn’t normally stop anymore.
“A few. Right now I’m late.”
Darcy’s eyes bugged out. “Late?”
Oh, no! “Not that type of late.” She wasn’t pregnant. Had no reason to be. She hadn’t slept with anyone since Boyd, and that was last year. He’d been her last. “Late to school.”
“Oh…” Darcy smiled. “I thought surely Saint…”
“Uh…” They had an agreement after all.
“Sorry. I thought surely you, uh, hadn’t done that.”
“You’d think right.”
Darcy leaned closer. “Not even the Hunter boys? They’re cute.”
Sloan couldn’t disagree there. It wouldn’t be beyond imagination to want to sleep with either Hunter, but she didn’t entertain that idea very much. Things were different with them. Sure, she found them both attractive, but there was more. Plus, it wasn’t like she could choose between them. “That they are. I’m just not ready for… that… yet.”
“Hmm…” Darcy said, like she was thinking of something important to say. Sloan wished she’d spit it out before she was late to class.
While she waited, Sloan pulled her math book from her backpack and put it in her locker. She winced when her ribs hurt, and she leaned over against the locker again. “Ow.”
“What? Something wrong?” Darcy could always see the obvious.
“Nothing. My ribs still hurt. Nothing major.”
“I’d say so. Boyd did a number on them. Mine too. Darcy reached in her bag and pulled out a white bottle. “In fact, the doctor gave me these to take for the pain.”
Sloan looked it over. It wasn’t anything more than a pill bottle sold over-the-counter at the store. “You don’t need a prescription for those.” She pointed at the name on the bottle.
“Goober, that’s not in the bottle. The prescription my doctor gave me is, but we can’t have prescription pills here without having the nurse hand them out. I’m seventeen, Sloan. I don’t need a nurse handing my pills to me like I’m a baby. Plus, I take them more than the doctor ordered. The nurse wouldn’t like that.”
“You hurt that much?”
“Don’t you?”