Read Online Platinum by Jennifer Lynn Barnes - Free Book Online
Authors: Jennifer Lynn Barnes
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trying not to feel into my motions, I wiggled the key back and forth in the lock, forcing the door open before life as I knew it could end.
As I ran into the house and up the stairs, images and words flew through my mind with every step: Fuchsia in Brock’s lap, Lissy walking out on me in the bathroom, Lexie’s “ohmigod,” Mystery Boy leaning toward me. The ring on my mom’s left ring finger.
And then I knew. This time, it didn’t matter how good I was at keeping things under control. Life as I knew it was already over.
8
Hurt
What they don’t know
can’t hurt you.
I didn’t slam my door. I wasn’t seven years old again, this wasn’t a temper tantrum, and slamming a door wouldn’t make anything go away. Instead, I shut it behind me as quietly as I could and immediately flipped the lock. I knew my mom well enough to know that she’d be on my heels.
“Lilah?”
Right on schedule.
“Baby, are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” I forced my voice to sound normal. She couldn’t see me, so I didn’t have to worry about the fact that underneath my perfect tan, I’d gone pale, or about the way my eyes were seconds away from watering.
“Baby, can we talk?”
I was always “baby” when she felt sorry for me. I hated it that somehow, I’d become a person to feel sorry for.
“Mom, I’m fine, but I really don’t feel like talking right now.” My voice sounded calm and icy, even to my own ears, but wasn’t that just typical me? When the going gets tough, the tough get icy.
“Lilah, baby—”
“I have a call on my cell,” I interrupted her. “I can’t talk to you right now.” I dug around in my purse for my phone.
If you made it true, it wasn’t a lie.
Unfortunately, that’s when I remembered that good old Grams still had my phone in her wrinkled hands. Apparently, in addition to having a firm desire to drag me into Freaksville, my soon-to-be-stepgrandmother was also a total klepto.
“Hey, Fuchsia,” I said brightly, pretending I had my cell with me and talking loudly enough to make sure my mother would overhear. “No,” I said, feigning shock. “No!” I paused. “Shut up! She didn’t!” One more long pause. “And what did he say?”
Three minutes, six “shut up’s,” three “get out’s,” and one “I can’t believe her” later, my mom finally gave up, and I sighed quietly as I heard her walk slowly back down the steps. I couldn’t deal with her right now. I had more important things to think about, like…like…
Like anything.
I sucked in a jagged breath, wracking my mind for distractions. I really didn’t want to cry.
“You’re tough,” a now-familiar voice admitted reluctantly.
I lifted my head to meet his dark eyes. There was a scathing retort on the tip of my tongue, but I surprised myself by shaking my head. “You haven’t seen tough until you’ve seen two freshman girls fighting over the same senior guy,” I said, my voice sounding distant and wry. “That’s more than tough. That’s brutal.”
“Brutal, huh?” For once, his voice was soft, and for the first time since we’d “met,” he wasn’t glaring or smirking in my general direction.
I shook my head again, unsure whether I was shaking off his question or the tears I could feel in the corners of my eyes.
Mystery Boy took a step closer to me. “Aren’t you going to tell me to leave you alone?”
“Would you listen?” I asked pointedly.
“No,” he replied.
I shrugged. “Then what’s the point?”
Who was I kidding? I wasn’t in control. The tears were coming, whether I wanted them or not, and for the first time in years, I just wasn’t up for a fight, with him or with anyone else. In fact, I was even glad that Caroline Nowly had my cell. This way, I didn’t have to think about dealing with the rest of my world.
“This ain’t you, Princess.” His voice had a hard edge to it, but his face didn’t change. I could almost picture him as the carelessly impassioned lead
As I ran into the house and up the stairs, images and words flew through my mind with every step: Fuchsia in Brock’s lap, Lissy walking out on me in the bathroom, Lexie’s “ohmigod,” Mystery Boy leaning toward me. The ring on my mom’s left ring finger.
And then I knew. This time, it didn’t matter how good I was at keeping things under control. Life as I knew it was already over.
8
Hurt
What they don’t know
can’t hurt you.
I didn’t slam my door. I wasn’t seven years old again, this wasn’t a temper tantrum, and slamming a door wouldn’t make anything go away. Instead, I shut it behind me as quietly as I could and immediately flipped the lock. I knew my mom well enough to know that she’d be on my heels.
“Lilah?”
Right on schedule.
“Baby, are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” I forced my voice to sound normal. She couldn’t see me, so I didn’t have to worry about the fact that underneath my perfect tan, I’d gone pale, or about the way my eyes were seconds away from watering.
“Baby, can we talk?”
I was always “baby” when she felt sorry for me. I hated it that somehow, I’d become a person to feel sorry for.
“Mom, I’m fine, but I really don’t feel like talking right now.” My voice sounded calm and icy, even to my own ears, but wasn’t that just typical me? When the going gets tough, the tough get icy.
“Lilah, baby—”
“I have a call on my cell,” I interrupted her. “I can’t talk to you right now.” I dug around in my purse for my phone.
If you made it true, it wasn’t a lie.
Unfortunately, that’s when I remembered that good old Grams still had my phone in her wrinkled hands. Apparently, in addition to having a firm desire to drag me into Freaksville, my soon-to-be-stepgrandmother was also a total klepto.
“Hey, Fuchsia,” I said brightly, pretending I had my cell with me and talking loudly enough to make sure my mother would overhear. “No,” I said, feigning shock. “No!” I paused. “Shut up! She didn’t!” One more long pause. “And what did he say?”
Three minutes, six “shut up’s,” three “get out’s,” and one “I can’t believe her” later, my mom finally gave up, and I sighed quietly as I heard her walk slowly back down the steps. I couldn’t deal with her right now. I had more important things to think about, like…like…
Like anything.
I sucked in a jagged breath, wracking my mind for distractions. I really didn’t want to cry.
“You’re tough,” a now-familiar voice admitted reluctantly.
I lifted my head to meet his dark eyes. There was a scathing retort on the tip of my tongue, but I surprised myself by shaking my head. “You haven’t seen tough until you’ve seen two freshman girls fighting over the same senior guy,” I said, my voice sounding distant and wry. “That’s more than tough. That’s brutal.”
“Brutal, huh?” For once, his voice was soft, and for the first time since we’d “met,” he wasn’t glaring or smirking in my general direction.
I shook my head again, unsure whether I was shaking off his question or the tears I could feel in the corners of my eyes.
Mystery Boy took a step closer to me. “Aren’t you going to tell me to leave you alone?”
“Would you listen?” I asked pointedly.
“No,” he replied.
I shrugged. “Then what’s the point?”
Who was I kidding? I wasn’t in control. The tears were coming, whether I wanted them or not, and for the first time in years, I just wasn’t up for a fight, with him or with anyone else. In fact, I was even glad that Caroline Nowly had my cell. This way, I didn’t have to think about dealing with the rest of my world.
“This ain’t you, Princess.” His voice had a hard edge to it, but his face didn’t change. I could almost picture him as the carelessly impassioned lead
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