Page 207 of As the Rain Falls
“Fourteen, then.” Her thin lips stretch into a dreamy smile. “That’s when we got them done.”
The memory is almost nonsensical, and I try to piece it together as I tell Angelina what happened. But it’s true what she just said about Lucia being fourteen. Her hair hadn’t fully grown out of the bad haircut yet.
“She found me in the bathroom after class. I think I was trying to figure out how to apply mascara without looking like I had two spiders stuck to my eyeballs.” I smile without showing teeth, brushing a tear-streak from under her eye with the sides of my thumb. “Lucia gave me a full tutorial on how to do it.”
I felt so grateful then.
Lucia was so naturally gorgeous.
Her hair was light and thick, and curly at the edges. She had eyes as deep as the waters of Point Mort, and she was tall, her figure athletic, almost Barbie-like. But most importantly, Lucia knew exactly how to dress, how to walk, and when to pause and listen as she spoke to someone. She made others feel special, truly special, nothing like the fake kind of shit.
“That’s Lucia right there.” Angelina swallows hard. “Always helping everybody else but herself.”
“She was nice sometimes,” I concede, knowing Lucia could also be terrifying other times. The kind of girl to leave a trail of broken hearts wherever she went.
“I didn’t know that you two talked.” She shakes her head. “But I guess I never paid much attention to you before. No offense.”
“None taken, and we didn’t. Not often, at least,” I admit, sadly. I take my mascara and open it. “Look up, please.”
I continue to work, applying the product over her long lashes. Her eyes water again, and my hand shakes, the vulnerability of the moment making us both emotional.
“I’m sorry,” Angelina whispers. “I can’t stop crying.”
“It’s fine.”
Her bottom lip trembles. “I’m sorry for hitting you.”
“Well.” I give her a shy kind of smile. “I’m sorry for hitting you back.”
Kayla is right. If Alice is being mean to Angelina, it’s because she thinks it’s funny to poke at someone already beaten down. Angelina is at her most vulnerable time. She’s an easy target.
“I love to hear other people talking about her,” she admits, biting her lower lip. “Every memory feels more important now that she’s gone.”
I nod, understanding what she means. “I get that.”
If I’d lost someone the way she did, so suddenly, I’d feel the same way.
“Really?” she asks, her eyes going round.
“Of course, Angelina.”
I put the mascara back in my purse. She shifts awkwardly, crossing her legs together.
“So… Caleb?” Angelina asks, making small talk.
Nausea hits me. It hits me hard.
“Let’s not.” I snort through my nose, pushing down the urge to throw up. “I’m barely holding it together.”
“He did a number on you, didn’t he?”
I don’t answer, but I pause, hands lingering near her face when another tear runs down.
“We had sex tonight.”
My thumb presses against her cheek. I don’t know why I say it, but I can’t take it back once I do. I wait for her reaction, trying not to show how the pill is starting to make me feel sick. It takes a second, but she eventually says something.
Her voice sounds dark.
