Page 157 of Rock Bottom Girl
Her parents pushed through the crowd that was gathering around us. They were followed by Steffi Lynn.
“One week. You both will leave school grounds immediately,” Mr. Fester said, his face turning a shade of purple that I didn’t think was healthy.
“I want my crown,” Amie Jo screeched.
Her mother slipped an arm around her shoulders. “We’ll get you your crown, sweetheart,” she crooned.
“Mr. Fester, clearly there’s been some sort of misunderstanding here,” Dr. Armburger said. “My daughter is a victim here.”
Was the man deaf? Had he not heard his daughter talk about stealing his wife’s bottle of Vicodin over the loudspeaker?
“Dr. Armburger, your daughter is no victim. My decision stands. One-week suspensions starting now.”
Steffi Lynn glowered at me as her parents guided a sobbing Amie Jo toward the stadium entrance. “I’m not in school anymore, so I can’t get in trouble for this,” she said, before shoving me to the ground.
The gravel bit into my palms.
“I heard you flunked out of cosmetology school,” I said. She probably would have kicked me there on the ground had it not been for an incoming hero.
“Hey! You bloated ox!” Vicky’s voice rang out as she hustled forward, getting into Steffi Lynn’s face.
I jumped up, inserting myself between them. I didn’t need Vicky joining me in my suspension.
“I’m already suspended,” I told her. “Let me handle this.”
Vicky let out something close to a growl and bared her teeth at Steffi Lynn.
“You’re right,” I said to Steffi Lynn. “You’re not in school anymore. You’re not on my team anymore either. Which means I can tell you that you are a miserable, abusive, dead-on-the-inside asshole who will spend the rest of her life ruining other people’s lives. You’re not special. You’re not better than everyone else. In fact, deep down, you know that you’re not good enough. So you can take your shitty attitude, and you can go back to Mommy and Daddy’s house where you’ll be living between divorces for the rest of your life!”
I was still standing there shaking when half of the sheriff’s department showed up and jogged onto the field to break up the melee.
66
Marley
If the JV Homecoming game was any indicator of what the varsity match would be like, I was going to drive home between games, pack my suitcase, and leave town in shame. The Buglers were turning my girls into ground beef on the field.
It was hard to watch.
I flinched over a particularly violent exchange between one of my midfielders and two Bugler girls who were six inches taller. “Way to stick, Matilda,” I called.
My team wasn’t sucking. They just didn’t have much experience yet, and I hoped to God this particular beat-down wouldn’t turn them off of soccer forever.
“Lozenge?” Vicky shoved a bag of cough drops at me. “Homemade whiskey and honey. Heavy on the whiskey.”
“I’m afraid I’ll choke,” I said, pushing the bag back at her.
“Just make sure you save some voice for the next game,” she cautioned me.
“How can you be so calm?”
My friend shrugged under her oversized coach jacket. “Last year, the score would have been 8-0.” She gestured at the scoreboard. “It’s 3-1 with ten minutes left. That’s a huge improvement already. These girls are going to be even better next year.”
Next year, I wouldn’t be here. Next year, someone else would be coaching them. Probably someone else who knew what they were doing.
The field lights clunked on above my head, and I felt the heat of them as if I were in a spotlight.
* * *
