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Broken.
Wrong.
“Are you really surprised?”
I stare at her.
Because yes.
Yes, I am.
“Brielle, I don't understand.”
“Of course you don't!”
Rain begins to fall harder.
Warm summer rain.
Heavy drops sting my skin.
Thunder rolls again.
And somehow it feels fitting.
Like even the sky knows betrayal when it sees it.
“Selfish bitch!” she screams. “You could never understand! You're just such a little superstar, aren't you? Perfect Miss Perkins!”
“Brielle, I'm not perfect,” I say carefully.
Trying to keep my voice calm.
Trying not to show how badly my hands are shaking.
Trying not to let her see how terrified I am.
“Of course you're not!” she snaps. “You're fat and plain without my help! I do the costumes! I do the makeup! I make you look like a goddamn star, but you get all the credit!”
Lightning flashes across her face.
And I don't recognize her.
Not anymore.
“What about me?” she screams.
“When is it my turn?”
“Bri—”
“No!”
Her scream echoes across the rooftop.
“All these years I've played fairy godmother to women like you, and nobody sees me!”
Tears stream down her face.
