Page 15 of The Star

“I don’t need charity from you.”

Her eyebrows pull down. “I wasn’t–” She pauses like she’s trying to pick her words very carefully. “It isn’t charity, Logan. I thought this could be something we could do together… Get to know each other.”

Well, great. Now I feel like a dick.

Sucking down a breath, I try to cool the fire burning in my chest. “I don’t know if I’m comfortable with you buying me stuff, Sara. I’m sorry.”

“Honey,” she says with a gentle tone, taking a step closer to me, “I want you to be happy here, not just for your father, but for you, too. And those little bitches at Luxington are going to eat you alive if you aren’t dressed to the nines in the latest fashion.”

I chuckle, hearing the disgust in her voice for the girls that I’ll be going to school with.

“We can go to the mall, nothing over the top and absolutelynothingwith glitter.” I grin at her.

“Deal. We’ll leave in ten.” She smiles, winking as she turns and leaves.

I like Sara and I loathe that I want to hate her instead. She hasn’t done anything wrong, and I should give her the benefit of the doubt, right? But there’s this tiny little piece of me, sitting right at the very edge, that just… won’t accept this.

Closing my door, I make sure I lock it, along with the door to the bathroom, before I strip out of my sweats. As I finger through my closet, I wonder what would be acceptable to wear to a mall in Luxington. Then I get annoyed with myself at the thought, because I am not that bitch. I’ve never needed to be accepted, and I’m not starting now. I’ll let Sara buy me some new clothes, but it’ll be stuff I like, not stuff I think they’ll like at fucking Luxington High.

I throw a black t-shirt dress over my head, tie a flannel around my waist, and slip my feet into some knockoff Doc Martens I found at the thrift store out by my old house. I spin in the floor-length mirror a few times, letting the flannel fan out around me, stopping when I feel dizzy. My black hair with white streaks in the front is wavy because I’ve been lying in bed for the last two hours, and there’s not a touch of makeup on my face.

So, I hurry to apply some, just in case I run into Jack Harlow or something -unlikely, but you never know- and fluff my hair out around me. Once my eyes are lined with black, and my hair is decent enough, I march my ass downstairs to meet Sara.

I find her standing in the entryway just inside the front door, typing away on her phone. When she sees me coming down the stairs she looks up and smiles. “I asked your dad to finish up some paperwork at the office, but he wanted me to tell you to have a good time.”

I return her smile. “Okay.”

“Carson!” she yells, making me jump a little. “Let’s go, son!”

My face heats. “Carson is coming with us?”

Speak of the devil and he shall appear. The man in question comes stomping down the stairs behind me, so I take the last step and walk to stand next to Sara. I keep my eyes on my feet, unable to face him after what I did earlier – what I walked in on.

Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, why did I say yes to this?

“Ready, sis?” He throws his arm around my shoulder when he reaches me, his hand dropping onto my collarbone, and I outwardly shudder as I remember the last place I saw that particular hand.

I step out of his embrace, meeting his gaze finally, finding mischief and arrogance twinkling in his blue eyes. I give him a dirty look once Sara has turned to open the front door, and he chuckles from behind me as I follow after her to the car.

Sliding into the front seat of Sara’s Porsche, I let Carson ride bitch in the back and feel a little pleased with myself. God, this is going to be torture.

* * *

I have thirteen shopping bags in my hands.Thirteen. So when Sara pulls me into Anthropologie, I outwardly groan.

“This is the last store, I promise,” she says without turning around to look at me.

Carson is behind me, carrying an influx of shopping bags as well, as he pipes up. “Actually, we still need to go to Louis Vuitton so I can get a new wallet.”

I turn to give him a dirty look – which I’ve done a thousand times today – and he gives me one of his cocky smiles, paired with a shrug.

“Sara, I really do think I have enough stuff.” I follow after her, but she’s already grabbed a shopping tote and is filling it with various items for me. I notice the loud prints she’s picking out and debate whether I should say something. She’s been fairly accepting so far, letting me pick out whatever I want, but I have a feeling she’s on a mission to dress me like a Luxington princess at least once today.

I decide to humor her, grabbing my own shopping tote just in case I find anything I like in here. Doubtful, since this place seems to be for rich hippies, but maybe I can find some jeans to distress or something.

I’ve learned not to look at price tags, as Sara swipes her card fast enough that it doesn’t matter anyways. I almost passed out when she insisted I needed real Doc Martens, which were $200 plus tax.

Carson then swiped his very own black card for a $500 pair of jeans, so I started to feel a little lightheaded and asked if we could get some lunch.

---