Page 17 of Spite

Chapter Eight

A week passed, and it was an awkward Saturday night dinner without my dad present; granted, it was only four, so it was an early dinner. Just me and Diane, spending some fantastic one on one time together. Dad wouldn’t get home until five. For some weird reason, she said she wanted to spend some time with me. She’d made pasta, and I mostly stuck the noodles with my fork, playing with my food. I didn’t want to eat too much, because I had some big plans tonight.

Jessie was throwing a party. Her parents were out of town, as clichéd as it was, and I’d decided tonight I’d make my move. On Alec, anyway. Christian would be there, and as long as he saw me and Alec together, I would accomplish all I’d set out to do for tonight. My nerves were getting to me, though.

“Your father will be home later. I thought we could have a movie night—” Diane began, her eyes on me. Did she really think I’d want to sit around and watch movies with her? I would much rather do literally anything else, including strip naked and walk through a River High basketball game, bearing all the scars on my body.

“Can’t,” I cut in. “I’m going to a party.”

“A party?” she echoed. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked, sounding a bit bitchier than I intended to. Who the hell was Diane to tell me what was a good idea and what wasn’t?

Diane set down her fork, resting her hands on her lap. “I just mean that this school, your classmates, have hurt you before. I wouldn’t want them to hurt you again—” Ah, right. Because she knew everything there was to know about me and what happened six years ago. Her affair with my dad had continued all throughout the divorce proceedings, so she was there for most of it.

She…she was the one who found me, actually. Those memories, while fuzzy, were still awful ones.

So cold. No one told me how cold it would feel. My skin, my body, even my breath—which was short and slow, labored. And God, no one told me how tired I would be. A fitting way to end it all, I supposed, since I’d spent the last two years constantly tired and alone.

I heard the sounds of knocking. Knocking on a door? My senses were slow. I couldn’t remember where I was. Was I in my bedroom? The bathroom? I had no idea, but I knew I didn’t plan it out. I didn’t want to plan it, because then I knew I’d chicken out. Spontaneous—for once in my life. I tried to be spontaneous, and all I’d gotten was cold. The only thing I knew was that I was at my dad’s house.

Funny, because it used to be my house, too. My mom’s house. Our house. I never knew, growing up, how badly time could warp things. Happy memories turned sour, birthdays and holidays long-lost traditions we could never get back. I’d lost so much; I was tired. I wanted it to be over with.

Was that so wrong?

The sounds of the doorknob jiggling and eventually giving way entered my ears. With blurry vision, I spotted the one person in the entire world I didn’t want to see, heard the one voice I never wanted to hear again.

“Elle!” Diane’s voice was frantic, and her face was blurred around the edges. I felt her touching me, putting pressure where there should be none, and I was too tired to fight her. Too tired to tell her that all of this was her fault.

It wasn’t, but I needed someone to blame that wasn’t myself.

“Elle, what did you do?” She was crying. Why? She didn’t care about me, didn’t love me. Diane was not my mother. She was just the young and pretty thing Dad had left Mom for. “Hold on, honey. Hold on.”

The last thing I remembered before meeting blackness was Diane telling me to stay awake.

I pushed the memory away, not wanting to relive it while sitting at the kitchen table with Diane. I smiled and shrugged. “I’ll be fine. I’m not the same little girl I was six years ago. I can handle these kids.” A muscle in my jaw tightened. “I’m stronger now.”

“Strength isn’t always facing down your demons,” Diane said something that made me freeze. Something that reminded me of things my mom used to say, before she…left. “Sometimes it’s about doing what’s harder. Moving on. Forgiving.”

I could not believe I was getting a speech from Diane. Who did she think she was? She wasn’t my mom. I didn’t even consider her my stepmom, even if legally, that’s what she was. She was nothing to me, no one, and she’d never be anything more, no matter what shit she tried to pull or wisdom she tried to instill in me.

Diane held my stare, her azure gaze confident, as if she had worlds of experience dealing with teens who’d tried to kill themselves in the past and were now set on revenge. “You can be strong and forgive, Elle. Forgive and forget.”

Forget all the things those little shits said to me? Everything they did to me? Forget the years of bullying while my home life took a drastic and unexpected turn for the worse, all because she couldn’t keep her legs shut? How dare she. How dare she even suggest doing that. Maybe a better person could forget and forgive, but I was not a better person.

I was the most spiteful bitch around. Spite. I should have it tattooed on me, somewhere. Spite and I were besties.

“When I want your opinion, I’ll ask for it,” I told her, getting up. It was a good thing I’d never ask for it. As I was about to head upstairs, the doorbell rang, and I went to grab it, already knowing who it would be.

Georgia.

I was grinning, fighting the anger inside as I answered the door. Georgia wasn’t here to come to the party with me, but she was going to help me get ready. Over the past two weeks, we’d bonded pretty fast. I wouldn’t say she was Leah’s replacement, but it was nice to have someone to talk to during the school day, and someone to text at night. I spoke with Leah as often as I could, but most of our conversations revolved around the revenge plot. Every so often, it felt good to talk about useless shit.

Georgia stepped in the house, waving to Diane. “Hi,” she said meekly. “I’m Georgia.”

Diane was on her feet, moving to our side as she crossed her arms. “Are you going to the party too?” Such an inquisitive mind.

Shaking her head, Georgia’s red hair flew every which way. “No. I’m just here to help her get ready.” Georgia was quiet, but she had a way about her that made everyone like her. No one in school made fun of her for being silent in class or even sitting alone at lunch. She didn’t sit alone anymore, but that wasn’t the point.

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