Page 70 of Spite

No, more than that. Exhausted.

A knock on my door alerted me to my dad’s presence. He walked into the room, sitting at my desk. “I just got a call from the school. They said you hijacked the DJ’s equipment to play your own video?”

All I said was “I had to.”

“The principal said he’s suspending you for three days. You and three other boys. They’re taking this as a sign of bullying.”

I chuckled. “Of course they are.” Now they took things like this seriously. Six years ago? All the teachers and other people working at the junior high had turned a blind eye to it. “Did he say anything about Georgia?”

My dad’s jaw tightened. “You got Georgia to help you out with this?”

“I needed someone to distract the DJ.” When I heard him sigh, I sat up, my legs dangling off the side of my bed. “I wanted to bully them back, Dad. Coming back to River High—of course I wanted to. But I didn’t. The video I showed was me coming clean and telling everyone that I forgive them for what happened six years ago.” My voice cracked when I added, “Mom made me promise to forgive them.”

I wanted to cry. I wanted, as stupid as it was, to cry into my dad’s shoulder. This was the night of my breakdown, apparently.

His expression softened. “Oh, honey.” He moved to my side, pulling me in for a hug. It was weird, because I couldn’t remember the last time I’d ever hugged him. “I’m glad you finally did…but couldn’t you have done it more privately?”

I chuckled. “Nope.”

We remained there for a while, until I told him I was tired. He got up and left without a word, about to close the door when our eyes met across the room. “Forgiveness is hard,” he said, smiling softly. “I’m proud of you, kiddo.” Not at all what I thought he’d say, and once I was alone, I let out a sigh.

I changed out of my dress, got in my pajamas, and crawled under the sheets, pointedly ignoring my phone. What would be worse—my phone blowing up from the guys, them asking where I was, or not having a single missed call or text from them? Honestly, I had no idea. I’d say I didn’t care, but that would be a lie.

I cared. I cared too damn much.