Chloe (Made Men Book 3)(8)By: Sarah Brianne
Trying her best to block out the students, she headed straight to her class, and when she reached her classroom, she saw some of her old “friends” reading a newspaper.
Slowly heading to the back of the class, she began to feel nauseous as they started to laugh behind the newspaper, watching her sink into her seat.
“I told you she turned into a freak from a car wreck.” Cassandra snickered, handing the newspaper off to some other students who had just come in.
“Bullshit. He swerved to miss a dog. Her father was probably drunk.” Sebastian looked right at her. “Wasn’t he?”
Not that night.
Chloe looked down at her lap to see she was digging her nails into her skin.
Sebastian stood and spoke more loudly. “Wasn’t he?”
Hearing the snatching of a newspaper, she looked up to see Elle had taken the paper away from a nosey, little kid who was one step away from getting picked on himself if it weren’t for Chloe being the main target in school.
Shoving the paper into her satchel, Elle took the seat right in front of Chloe, shielding her from their view.
“If her father was actually drunk, we would have all heard about it by now.”
“Her father didn’t even get a scratch, while she got her face all fucked up.” Sebastian cackled.
Chloe tried to focus on the pain she was causing to her palm, but it wasn’t working. She took each harsh word as a slap to the face.
“So he didn’t get hurt. What’s your point?” Elle glared at Sebastian .
Sebastian now stood, looking down at Elle. “So, my dad says he was drunk off his ass since drunk drivers are never the ones who get hurt because of the effect from the alcohol. He can’t believe that her father won and hates everyone who voted for—”
“That’s enough, kids! It’s time to start class.” The teacher walked in, finishing the conversation.
The loud bell had Chloe opening her hands to see little droplets of blood appear where her nails had dug into her skin.
She spent the class in her head, wishing that drunk driving were the cause of her “fucked up” face. Then she spent the next class trying to push away the memories of what had really happened. The battle continued until her third class started, and finally, when the lunch bell rang, Elle brought her out of her thoughts.
“Chloe, it’s time for lunch. Are you okay?”
Looking around the now almost empty room, she stood, slowly nodding her head.
It took Elle a minute of staring her down before she decided to walk on to the cafeteria.
Walking beside the strawberry-blonde to lunch, she kept her head down. It was easier looking at the cold floor than the cold stares when everyone looked at her marked face. Despite not seeing them, she could still feel the stares as they tried to get a glimpse of her through her dark curtain of hair.
When they reached the lunch room, it was obvious it was pizza day, as the line was long and the other line of chicken patties and hamburgers was practically empty.
As Elle walked toward the chicken and hamburger line without a thought, Chloe stopped her.
“Wait, you don’t want pizza?”
“Yes, but not enough to stand in line with them.” She nodded her head toward the back of the line that held Cassandra and Sebastian, along with all the other kids who had helped beat her up.
“You’re right.” Chloe gulped at the thought.
Following Elle to the empty line, she couldn’t help feeling like she would never be able to eat school pizza ever again. She could already sense her freedom of picking what to eat for lunch taken away from her.
After grabbing their lunches, she followed her once again to the table closest to the cafeteria door, the one she had watched Elle sit at alone every day. She sat in front of her so her back was to the filled lunchroom. This way, she wouldn’t have to watch all the students staring at her and mocking her fresh cuts.
She remembered how bad she used to feel for Elle sitting all by herself. Never once had Chloe sat with her. Because I was afraid.
Wasn’t it ironic?
She feared their judgment, but she had found out what true fear was. She used to feel bad for Elle, yet now she admired her uncaring attitude over whether they liked her or not. Payback was a bitch.
“You d-don’t really get to pick what you w-want for lunch, do you?” Chloe asked, picking at her chicken patty and fries.
Popping a fry in her mouth, Elle seemed unbothered by her question. “Nope.”
“I guess you didn’t get to pick what they said happened to you, either?” Elle continued.
“W-what does-s that mean?”
“They want you to say you were in a car wreck when you weren’t. Who’s making you say that?”