Page 25 of Vicious Sentiments

Her jaw drops dramatically. “Shut up!” she squeals.

I tell her about the awful woman, leaving out the bit where I was called a whore. She gasps after every sentence and I find myself scooting closer to her as we talk conspiratorially. At some point, I’m snug in the duvet with her and it feels like she’s the friend I’ve always wanted, even if she is only thirteen.

I don’t know many thirteen-year-olds, and of course I can see the bits of her that are super tween, but she’s whip-smart. She has an elevated seriousness that must come from losing your parents so young and what she’s been through. I think it’s aged her and gave her a self-awareness she probably wouldn’t otherwise have.

Numbly, I wonder how aged I am, considering what I’ve been through.

Finally, when I have no more details to give, she groans. “So, nothing happened between you guys?”

“No,” I tell her for the third time.

“Because of how old he is?” she probes.

I shrug. I don’t want to tell her about my experiences with men and I honestly don’t know what to make of Julian. Heisolder, but somehow he doesn’t feel any older than me. Seeing out of my own eyes, I don’t feel like a child with him, the way the woman at the restaurant spoke of me, but I can see how it looks through other people’s eyes. It’s probably not the best idea to get involved with Julian.

Marney untangles herself from the blanket and yawns, making her way to the door. I’m about to say good night when she turns around,her hand resting on the doorknob.

“At least you’re almost eighteen. Then you guys can do whatever you want,” she says and then leaves me. The thought giving me butterflies.

I fall asleep quickly. The pajamas really are cozy and I have no idea what magic the bed is made of because it feels like sleeping on a cloud. I’m in that place where I know I’m asleep, but something is waking me, and my eyes are too heavy to open.

Muffled voices are coming from outside my door. Bickering, trying to whisper but too heated.

“You will not… Sleeping.” It’s Margo.

“…going to happen…” Julian whispers back.

Why is he here and not at his house?

The sound of his voice gives me the energy to open my eyes and peel the comforter back.

“She’s seventeen,” Margo snaps at him.

“I know, Ma. Jesus, I know. I just want—”

“Want what? To watch her while she sleeps?”

“I’m just going to sit in there.”

“You don’t think that’s a little disturbing, Jules?”

Silence.

I slink out of the bed and tiptoe closer to the door.

“What has gotten into you?” Margo says, and I can hear her sigh through the door.

“I don’t know,” Julian groans. “She’s just so fragile, Ma.”

“I know.”

“I mean, whatever’s happened to her has been fucked.”

“I know that too. Her rib is broken.”

“What?!” Julian’s voice raises, and the floor creaks. The knob slightly rattles and I jump back, expecting the door to fly open.

“Shhh.” The floor creaks again, but the door doesn’t open. I picture Margo stopping him. “It will heal on its own.”

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