Page 11 of Devils' Day Party
Sonja stalks off and I look up to see Raz staring down at me with narrowed red eyes.
“You’re fucking disgusting, do you know that?” he asks, but I say nothing. Instead, the fingers of my right hand curl into the dirt and dust, and I ready myself for a fight. Raz is strong, but I don’t have to beat him. I just have to last long enough for a teacher to hear the commotion and come running. “Don’t let me see you at that party tonight, Trailer Park.”
Raz grabs my book bag as he passes, reaching inside and tearing out my lunch. He throws my bag aside and keeps going, twisting the top off the kombucha I packed this morning. He takes a drink and wrinkles his nose as I climb to my feet, brushing gravel and blood down my knees. When I move to grab my bag, Raz makes a sound of disgust.
“Is this that rotten hippie tea shit?” he asks, turning and throwing what’s left of the drink into my face. The smile that lights his own face is wicked and awful. “Too bad. If you’d packed a soda, I would’ve just drank it. Try not to be so goddamn weird, you fucking liberal snowflake. I know it must be hard, with those dyke moms of yours.”
“At least my parents love me,” I say, the words snapping hot and fast from the end of my tongue. As soon as they leave my lips, I almost regret them. Almost. Raz’s entire body goes stiff, but the cruel smile doesn’t leave his sharp lips.
“I bet they do,” he replies, making a ‘V’ with his fingers and sticking his tongue between them in a lewd gesture. My eyes widen and fury sweeps over me in a hot wave. I chuck the dirt and gravel as hard as I can, right into Raz’s red eyes. He doubles over with a sharp sound—I bet that really hurts with those contacts of his—but I’m not done. Years of frustration overwhelm me, and I charge him, knocking him onto his back as he struggles to get the debris from his eyes.
“Miss Sartain!” a voice shouts, and before I get a chance to do anything more than knock Raz over, hands are grabbing me by the upper arms and dragging me back. Mrs. Dupré kneels down next to Raz as Mr. Aldrich, the biology teacher, pulls me up and away from my bully.
The last thing I see before he marches me into the office is the awful smile on Raz’s face.I’m given a week’s worth of detention for attacking Raz, despite my protests. The administration can only punish what they’ve seen with their own eyes, and as far as they could tell, my attack on Raz Loveren was unprovoked.
But I know they don’t miss the wet, stickiness of my clothing or the bloody patches on my knees. It’s just easier for them to punish the poor kid than the son of a prominent senator. My mothers don’t donate extra money to the school to make up for their unruly child, not the way Raz’s family does.
So, even though it’s Devils’ Day, even though everyone—including most of the staff—will be heading out to some party or another tonight, I’m forced to sit for almost two hours after school in the library. At one point, I see Raz walk by the window outside, shouting into his phone, but I can’t hear what he’s saying, and I don’t care. My only hope is that his asshole dad is finally cutting him off.
When I’m finally released, I check my phone for messages from Luke and April. I sent them home to get ready for the party, promising that I’d get a tow truck for Little Bee. Neither of them wanted to leave, but April relies on Luke for rides, and she’s too far along in her pregnancy to sit around an empty school waiting for me.
I brush my fingers against Little Bee’s fake eyelashes, attached to her headlights and only partially mangled from crashing into Calix’s Aston Martin. There’s only one towing service in Devil Springs, and when I dial them up, I get a pre-recorded message from the owner about taking the day off. If it’s an emergency, he says, call the police. Well, that’s hardly an option for me, is it? After hitting Calix’s car this morning, I can’t make a big deal out of this. Whatever damage I did to his fancy ride is worth far more than a car I got from my neighbor for a few hundred bucks.
My thumb swipes down the screen of my phone, searching my contacts for a possible ride. Crescent Prep is about twenty minutes away from Devil Springs proper, and everyone I know is either prepping for the parties tonight, or going out of their way to avoid them. My aunt’s already left to visit a friend in Little Rock, and my moms are both at home in their studio, phones set to silent. If I call them, they’ll answer, but then they’ll want to know what happened to Little Bee and they’ll make a big deal out of it.
