Page 46 of Ruling Scar
“Didn’t you hear, he’s my boyfriend now.”
I relish Ren’s wide eyes and surprised burst of laughter. But her listening skills are what I really appreciate.
I’m used to internalizing everything I do and think because my friends are few and far between. Without the option of going to Adeline or Nat, I don’t have many people to talk to.
But I trust Ren. She sees shit every day, but even better, she never judges me.
“And did that happen sometime between ten and eleven o’clock on Saturday night?” she asks wryly.
Abe sidles up to the table, placing our dishes down. “What’s this?”
“Lennie’s got a new boyfriend.”
“Oh, shit,” he teases, but his mom barks at him to get back to work.
“Where’s Bennie?” He’s Ren’s right-hand man.
“Court. Don’t try and deflect. You’re using Elijah as your shield.”
“Exactly.”
“And you’re not worried about getting involved with him?”
“No.” If it surprises her she doesn’t show it.
“Is there ever a time you hated him?” Ren doesn’t mention my scar, but I understand her question.
“In high school, yeah,” I admit. No one made fun of me, at least not to my face, because of my parents. But while others learned makeup tutorials about blending concealer over their teenage acne, I dodged conversations with my mom about new dermatologists. I refused to wear blush in case it made my scar more noticeable.
I hated Elijah then. For making life horrible. Ten years on from those awkward teenage days, the anger has dulled. I regret the shyness that came from trying to blend into my surroundings. If I’d forced myself to do more then maybe I’d be less shy today.
But it’s useless to blame Elijah for my introverted ways or to hang onto simmering rage because the skin on my cheek is marred.
“It was an accident,” I say, picking at my food. “Society thinks my scar is ugly, but hating on Elijah because my face isn’t pretty seems petty.”
Ren wrinkles her nose. “You can be petty as fuck if you want. And have you seen your self? You’re beautiful.”
“Thank you.” I smile, stupidly pleased by her compliment.
“Don’t do that.” Ren points a chopstick at me. “You are hot as fuck, Lennie. And not just because of your ass. It’s your soul.You’re beautiful. I see it in the ramblings about books and the way you blast Britney Spears on repeat. It’s the way you wear your cute little sneakers and how you respond to Isolde’s twenty million texts. You are fucking beautiful and it’s time you own that shit.”
I’m not quite sure what to say, except for, “I really wish I’d recorded all of that.”
She pops a piece of chicken in her mouth. This is the hint of Ren she keeps hidden beneath her tailored suits.
“You could try responding to the group chat.”
She grins as she chews. “I sent a funny meme I found the other day.”
For some reason the thought of Ren on the internet is strange. Normally, Isolde and I keep her informed of the latest online trends.
“You know,” she says, “I don’t actually dislike Elijah.”
Everyone knows she had a dust-up with the Zimins. The details are fuzzy, but the rumors are rampant. Out of caution, I’ve never brought them up.
“That makes you one of the few.”
“Yeah, well, he was always nice to me.” The words sound simple, her face remaining blank. She swallows a bite of food, wiping her mouth. “He came and checked up on me.”
