Page 40 of Unwrapping Deviance

No, but I smile at Daniel. “Just need the washroom.”

Daniel slips out of the booth, and I quickly stand. My hands brush down my skirt before I start in the direction of the bathrooms feeling every eye in the place on me.

But I keep my head high and look at no one as I cross the room like I own it.

I really did have to go, but I need the time and space to calm down. I’m not usually a hot-tempered person, or someone ready to start a fight, but everything about this town has rubbed me the wrong way.

Never mind the weirdPleasantvillevibe they have going on.

Never mind no town should be so ... clean, but the people.

That shit only happened in movies. Nowhere —nowhere— would people just stand around and do nothing in a situation like back at the Sheriff’s office. Normal human behavior prompted us to help, didn’t it?

But if the law enforcement in the town is the virus, the reason people don’t act in fear of retaliation ... they live here. I’m an outsider. They would have to face the consequences of their kindness.

I pause pulling my panties back up.

Maybe the town isn’t the problem.

I hit flush on the toilet and unlock the stall.

And freeze.

There’s a woman just standing on the other side. The brunette with the fat, red sash in her neatly coiffed locks. I’m momentarily distracted by how shiny it is despite the mediocre lighting in the room, but then I’m caught in her big, evil, blue eyes boring into my soul and wonder if she’s here to eat my face.

I’m almost convinced that’s the case when her full, red lips bow, parting slightly to reveal straight, white teeth.

“There are other toilets,” I mutter, disliking her arms crossed, hip popped stance.

I’ve seen too many of her kind at school. The pretty girls with the cruel smiles.

We’re not in school anymore.

I move past her to the sinks and slap one on. Over my shoulder, suburban Barbie continues to watch me through the mirror, our eyes lock as I wash my hands.

“Can I help you?” I say at last.

She waits until I have a wad of paper towels bunched in my damp fists to speak.

“I’m Clemence. Clemence Carr.”

I continue to eye her, waiting for her to continue, but she seems to have run out of batteries. Honestly, she seems to be searching my face like I’m supposed to know her.

Maybe she’s big on social media. Tough luck for her because I don’t have any. My phone is still set to the same factory setting as when Daniel gave it to me this past Christmas. Only his number is saved on it. Even the background is the same.

But that’s none of her business.

“Okay,” I say, pitching my towels into the trash bin. “That’s nice.”

I make to move around her, but she sidesteps into my path. I come up short.

Oh no she fucking didn’t.

“You better move before I forget how to use my words,” I warn her with clear warning.

“There’s no need to be hostile. I’m trying to help you.”

“My car warranty is fine. Thanks.”

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