“I’m glad you find this all so funny.”
Lauren had the basic decency to act affronted. “I actually feel bad for you guys—you and Ronni have no friends left. Your mom is losing her shit. . . .” Her face turned mean and ugly. “And your poor daddy is caught up in the whole mess.”
That sick feeling gurgled in Hannah’s stomach. “Don’t talk about my dad.”
“Why not? Jeff and I are friends.”
“You’re not friends.”
“I protected him. I made sure no one told the police or the lawyers about the champagne he gave us.” Lauren smiled coyly. “And things just grew from there. . . .”
“He’s practically fifty! You’re disgusting!”
“Jeff doesn’t think I’m disgusting—he thinks I’m hot. And sexy.”
“Fuck you!” Hannah was shaking now. She wanted to hit this girl, to punch her in her pretty, perfect, drunk face. What would happen if she did? She’d only recently come to terms with being late for class; fighting in the school bathroom was another story.
“You can’t blame him, Hannah. Your mom’s a lunatic . . . and you’re so childish. He had to turn to someone for comfort.”
Hannah’s voice was quivering with rage. “You’re a liar.”
“I’m not.” Lauren dug her smartphone out of her back pocket. “And I’ve got the texts to prove it.”
Hannah’s hand balled into a fist. She didn’t know how to throw a punch; she and her brother had had the requisite shoving and wrestling matches, but they’d never actually struck each other. Kim would have grounded them for life! But Hannah was going to have to learn fast.
Lauren was scrolling through her phone. “Here are his texts. . . .” She looked up at Hannah and bit her lip. “Want to see your dad’s dick pic?”
Hannah’s fist glanced awkwardly off the side of Lauren’s jaw. If the girl’s face hurt half as much as Hannah’s hand did, the punch had had the desired effect. The scream Lauren emitted verified her pain, or maybe just her shock. The phone flew from Lauren’s grasp and skittered across the linoleum into one of the empty bathroom stalls.
“You fucking cunt!” Lauren shouted at the top of her lungs. “You hit me!”
The volume was bound to bring teachers or a vice principal running to intervene. But despite Hannah’s throbbing hand and pounding heart, she felt vindicated. She smiled at the red welt on Lauren’s cheek. “You deserved it.”
Lauren suddenly realized her phone had been knocked from her grasp. “If you broke my phone, I’ll fucking kill you.” The injured girl hadn’t seen where it landed, but Hannah had. As Lauren scanned the floor for the device, Hannah rushed directly to it in the bathroom stall. She picked up Lauren’s phone and held it above the toilet. If Lauren was to be believed, the gadget held incriminating texts, sexy messages, even a photo of her father’s penis. . . . But Lauren couldn’t be believed. Hannah’s dad would never, ever do that. But just in case . . . she dropped the phone into the toilet and flushed. The school commode was commercial grade, built for heavy and frequent use; it swallowed the phone like it was just another deposit of shit.
The next thing Hannah felt was her hair being yanked from behind. “You fucking bitch!” Lauren shrieked, near hysteria. “You’re going to buy me a new phone!” She threw Hannah to the floor and kicked her in the ribs.
“What the hell is going on in here?” It was Vice Principal Wong, petite but intimidating.
“She punched me in the face!” Lauren cried. “She flushed my phone!”
The vice principal looked at Hannah, and Hannah registered the woman’s surprise. Hannah Sanders was not the kind of kid who engaged in bathroom catfights, who flushed expensive property down the toilet. . . . Then she saw something like realization soften Ms. Wong’s features. Hannah had been through a lot lately and she was cracking under the pressure. They would go light on her . . . Hannah hoped.
“Both of you, in my office,” VP Wong barked.
As Hannah followed the petite authoritarian down the hall, she pondered her fate. Expulsion? Probably overkill. But suspension was definitely in the cards, for both her and Lauren. High school protocols didn’t factor in who threw the first punch or who was provoked when doling out punishment. Kim was going to lose her mind when she got the call. Neither Hannah nor Aidan had ever received a disciplinary call home.
But when Hannah glanced over at Lauren and saw the welt rising along her jawline, she knew it was all worth it. Whatever happened to her now, she had done the right thing. It wasn’t until they reached the office doorway that Hannah realized: she was going to stand up Ronni for lunch today.
jeff
SIXTY-FIVE DAYS AFTER
Jeff marched into the house and crashed right into the wall of tension pervading the space. Kim had called him at the office and insisted he come home immediately. She wouldn’t tell him why, just that no one was hurt, but it was serious. “I’ve got meetings,” he’d tried, but his wife had been adamant. If this was something like finding porn sites in Aidan’s browser history, or texts full of swearing on Hannah’s phone, he would lose it. But Kim had gained some perspective since Ronni’s accident.
The energy in the house was dark and heavy, and Jeff knew this wasn’t just Kim overreacting. He found his wife and daughter in the kitchen. Kim stood near the center island nursing a glass of white wine (it was barely two in the afternoon—not a good sign). Hannah perched on a barstool, her nose red, her eyes glassy, and her general demeanor one of emotional exhaustion. Something bad had happened.
“Your daughter’s been suspended for fighting,” Kim blurted, taking a gulp of wine.
“What?” Jeff looked at Hannah, who was staring blankly at the butcher-block countertop.
“I just got back from the vice principal’s office,” Kim elaborated. “Your darling girl punched Lauren Ross in the face.”
Jesus Christ. Hannah had attacked Lauren? Why? He knew he couldn’t ask. He looked at Hannah again, sitting still and quiet. “I thought you two were friends.”
She looked up at him then, a hint of a bitter smile. “Nope.”
Kim drank more wine. “And you’ll pay for her phone, missy. You can get a job. Or you can babysit . . .”
Jeff addressed Hannah. “You broke her phone?”
“She flushed it down the toilet!” Kim offered.
Hannah lifted her gaze to meet Jeff’s and he saw it: anger, disgust, betrayal. . . . His daughter knew. Whether she knew the truth or some twisted lie that Lauren had told her, Hannah knew. She had destroyed the phone to protect her father; she had destroyed texts that could incriminate him. Still . . . he had to ask. “Why?” His voice was hoarse.
Hannah looked at him for a tense, loaded moment. With a handful of words, she could destroy his life, end his marriage, and change their father-daughter relationship forever . . . but Hannah just shrugged. “Seemed like the right thing to do.”
“The right thing to do?” Kim shrieked. “Who are you? What is wrong with you?”