Safe and Sound(16)

As she sat there waiting, a low moan escaped her. It sounded like a wounded animal and Lola was stunned that such a noise could come from her. Her face hurt, but inside was what hurt the most. Helplessness cocooned her. Lola felt so lost. She wrapped her arms around her midsection and let the sobs overtake her.

Footsteps reached her ears and she quickly wiped her eyes, being careful around her sore eye and cheek.

Bob, dressed in a blue shirt with holes, red and black plaid pajama pants, and snow boots, climbed into the vehicle. He didn’t look at her, didn’t say a word.

Lola pressed her body against the door, trying to get as much space between them as possible without him noticing. She jumped from the car as soon as he pulled up to the curb.

She hurried up the steps that led to Morgan Creek High, careful not to look at anyone.

Rachel waved at her from her locker. She had on a short jean skirt and black blazer with knee-high boots. Her short brown hair was a disarrayed mess that looked fashionable.

Lola waved back, but kept walking. She unlocked her locker, shoved her backpack inside, and headed for the art room.

“Lola! Wait up.” Rachel fell into step beside her, offering a bright smile. “How was detention? Mr. Welsh is such a jerk.”

“It wasn’t so bad.” An image of Jack’s mocking smile floated through her head. Lola felt something weird in the pit of her stomach and shook her head.

“I’m glad you survived.” Rachel offered a smile Lola didn’t return. “So, uh, I was wondering if you wanted to hang out this weekend? My family is going to some dumb movie Saturday night I refuse to go to. We haven’t hung out forever. A sleepover would be fun. What do you think? Want to?” Rachel spoke quickly, her words jumbling together.

Lola looked at Rachel, shocked by the invitation. Rachel looked so hopeful. Maybe she could have a night with no worries, maybe she could forget for a while. You can’t.

Rachel leaned closer, eyes widening. “What happened to your face?”

Lola’s pulse picked up and she averted her face. “Nothing. Why?”

Rachel fell back, but when Lola continued to walk, she caught up. “It just looks…swollen or something.”

“It’s nothing. I have to go to the bathroom. I’ll see you in class,” she said in a rush, sounding a lot like Rachel, and veered toward the bathrooms.

Lola was relieved to find the restroom empty. The walls were pink and there were three stalls. The room smelled like soap and paper towels.

She rushed to the mirror and stared at her reflection. Her bones were so prominent they were almost skeletal. Lola flinched at the realization. She needed to eat more.

Hard to do when everything comes right back up.

Lola turned her head to the side. The flesh near the corner of her right eye was pink and puffy. Lola leaned closer, dismayed to find a small purple bruise already forming.

“Great,” she mumbled.

Lola fought tears. She just wanted this to be over. Some days she could accept that she had close to a year to get through before she could leave. Other days, like today, Lola didn’t know if she could do it.

She just wanted him gone. But even if he was gone, what would that mean for her and her mother? Lola didn’t know how things could ever be normal between them again, be how they used to be.

Lola didn’t know if she could forgive her mother for the year of hell she’d subjected her to. Especially when she didn’t even seem to care. The mother she knew and loved wasn’t there anymore and Lola didn’t know if she would ever come back.

A cry of frustration and anger and pain erupted from her. Lola glared at her reflection, hating what she saw, hating what she had become.

She gripped the sink so hard her knuckles turned white. Lola closed her eyes and took deep breaths.

Get a grip. Don’t lose it.

Lola turned the water on and splashed some on her face, hoping it would take some of the swelling away. The bruise she could do nothing about. She arranged her long hair so that it partially covered the right side of her face. It was the best she could do.

The hallway was empty. First period had already started. She was late anyway. All that for nothing.

Art was one of her favorite classes. There were fifteen kids in the classroom, all busy on their projects. They talked and laughed to one another, their biggest concern what they would be doing that night after school. Lola had been like them too, just last year.

She inhaled the scent of paint as she went to her easel. Lola hoped the teacher, Mr. Roberts, wouldn’t notice she hadn’t been there when the bell sounded.

No such luck. He immediately made his way to her.

“Miss Murphy. You’re late.” He was a big, towering man with white hair and glasses. His voice boomed throughout the room and conversations halted.