Ugly(24)

“Tell me about yourself, Lily. Chris says you’re living with them?” Her cheeks pink just slightly, and when she says the word them, it’s almost like she’s spitting the word out in disgust.

“I’m seventeen, and I’m about to graduate high school as the valedictorian, with a 3.9 GPA. I’ve been living with Mr. and Mrs. Hackly for almost three weeks.”

“Mr. Hackly,” she pauses and clears her throat, “told me you came from an abusive household.”

Instantly I feel myself cringe and retreat in total humiliation. Why would he say that? Why would he tell someone about that? How many others has he told? I feel like the butt of all jokes. “Um,” I mumble, trying to catch my breath.

My head spins around and I can’t help the tears that leak from my eyes as I try and hold them in.

“Don’t cry. I just need to know you’ll work hard for me.” Stacey looks at me, and her eyes, though pretty, are very cold.

“I will, ma’am,” I manage to say through a strangled and painful sob.

“Yes, I think you will. Summer is nearly here, and I’m going to need extra cashiers. You have the job if you want it. I trust Chris when he says you’re a good kid.” She stands, comes beside me and leans on her desk. “Here.” She reaches around to some papers which were on her desk. “Fill these out, bring them back on Saturday, and once I’ve got you a uniform, I’ll have you trained and ready to go.”

I look up at her, I’m sure I’m a mess with tears clinging to my cheek and my eyes red, but I smile. “Thank you,” I say.

“Tell Chris I’m still waiting for that lobster he promised me. You can tell him tonight while you’re having dinner.”

“Yes, ma’am,” I say as I stand and take my backpack.

As I walk out of the office, I thank Stacey again and promise I’ll do my best for her. I tuck the papers in my backpack and walk downstairs past Shayne. “Hey,” she says. I stop by her counter. “Did you get the job?”

“Yeah, I did.”

She smiles at me. “That’s excellent. I’m Shayne, and I think you and I are going to be great friends,” she cheerfully says.

“I’m Lily, and I really hope so.”

A friend. A real life friend. Someone I can just be myself around. I hope she’ll be my friend. I really need someone.





“Uncle Martin, this is my girlfriend Lily. This is my uncle, Martin,” Trent says as he introduces me.

“Hello,” I say as I extend my hand to the balding, middle-aged man standing in front of me. He doesn’t look anything like Mr. Hackly. He’s short, with not much hair, a big belly and when he smiles, half his teeth are rotten.

“What’s this, little lady? Where I come from we’re all family and this is how we greet each other,” he jovially says as he steps into my personal space, wraps his arms around me and hugs me tightly while he lifts me clearly off the ground.

He puts me down and chuckles. “Pleased to meet you, Sir,” I say, breathless from the bear-hug.

“Sir? You can call me Uncle Martin or just plain old Marty. And you.” He looks at Trent, “You’re way too old to be calling me Uncle, you can call me Marty.” I smile at Marty, because he’s nice.

“Come on, I need to introduce you to Uncle John,” Trent says, as Marty goes back to flipping the burgers on the barbeque.

We walk toward a gentleman sitting near the pool. He’s nursing a beer as he watches some kids in the pool. He looks almost exactly like Mr. Hackly, but older with gray hair.

“Uncle John, I’d like you to meet my girlfriend, Lily.”

He stands from where he was sitting, and his intense green eyes go directly to me. Automatically, I feel uncomfortable. He trails his eyes down from my face to my breasts, then further down. A violent, intense knot forms in my stomach as I take his offered hand and shake it.

“You’re Lily?” he asks. The question sounds wrong. Almost like he was expecting someone beautiful and he’s shocked by just how ugly I am.

“Yes, Sir,” I answer.

“She sure is pretty, Trent,” he says to Trent while leering at me.

“She is,” Trent answers as he puts his arm around me and pulls me into him. “Go inside and help Mom with the food.”

I force a smile at Trent’s uncle and turn to go inside, but I hear him say, “Fucked her yet?” I speed up and leave because he just creeps me out to the point I don’t want to be anywhere near him.

When I go into the kitchen I see Mrs. Hackly working, and two other women sitting at the table, laughing and drinking a clear liquid in a tall glass. From the way they’re looking at Trent’s mom, and how they’re acting, I doubt the liquid is water.