Chapter 26

SHOCK TREATMENT

Don’t go,” Brainzilla says.

Marty just offered me a ride home. Eggy’s shift ended two hours ago and mine just ticked “done,” and I’m ready to drop. As a shift lead, Brainzilla still has to finish counting receipts, which could take another hour.

“I’ll be done in twenty minutes,” Brainzilla promises. “You know I’m fast. And Mom is already on the way.”

“If I wait here, I’ll probably fall asleep at the bar,” I say. “I’m telling you, Marty is an Operation Happiness waiting to happen.”

I wipe down the counter and then yank off my apron. My feet feel like concrete blocks at the ends of my legs.

I wish someone would go ahead and invent that beaming-up technology they have on Star Trek. Forget the Internet—I want to get beamed straight to bed.

“All right, all right,” Brainzilla says. “See you tomorrow.”

I lean over the counter to give my bestie a peck on the cheek, then head toward the coatroom, where Marty is already waiting for me. He’s actually holding my coat when I arrive, and I’m just about ready to promote the guy to Bona Fide Human Being.

Marty holds the door for me as we step outside, and he escorts me to his beautiful car, waiting as I slip into the comfortable seat. He closes the door, shutting me inside the dark cocoon. Wow. Plush leather. And it’s so clean on the inside. My mom’s car was always approximately 80 percent candy bar wrappers.

Marty settles into his seat and looks over at me. I smile at him. “Thanks for the ride” is about to spill from my lips—when he grabs my wrist and lays his mouth on mine. I try to speak, but his lips stop my voice, his boozy breath stinking up my nostrils. He must have spent the past three hours with a bottle of gin, because his cinnamon scent has disappeared.

I push against him, but his grip tightens. He’s smothering me, crushing me. Adrenaline courses through me, but the more I fight to get away, the stronger he seems, and fear starts to choke me.

I try to scream, and Marty shoves his hand over my mouth as his other hand reaches up my skirt. The fear really starts to get me, and I think, I’ll never get him off. I’m not strong enough—I can’t fight him, and just at that moment, I remember something that Flatso told me: “The jaw is the strongest muscle in the body.”

So I bite down on his hand.

Hard.

Bloom bleeds all over the place, and I spill out of the car and onto the freezing asphalt.

“Kooks?” Brainzilla is there—she hauls me to my feet, takes one look at Marty, screaming and bleeding in his car and slams the door, silencing him.

“Oh my god.” I pull her into a hug, but she’s already moving, half hugging me, half dragging me across the parking lot. She says, “It’s okay—Mom is here. I told you I’m fast. It’s okay. It’s all okay,” and in another moment, we’re standing in the headlights of Brainzilla’s mom’s 1998 Corolla. I have never been so happy to see a midsize sedan in my life.

“What’s wrong?” Brainzilla’s mom asks as we climb into the backseat, but my best friend just shakes her head and says, “Please drive, Mom, okay?” Mrs. Sloane does, and she doesn’t ask questions. Brainzilla and her mom are close, so she doesn’t need to ask questions. She knows she’ll get the whole story later.

I lean against my best friend, and something tickles my face. I swipe at it and realize it’s drying blood. Bloom’s blood. I nearly barf, but Katie just pulls me close, and I can smell her familiar smell of coconut shampoo and vanilla body spray—like a macaroon—and I feel a bit better. And she doesn’t say anything like “I told you so” or “See? Bloom’s bad news” as her mom drives home. She just holds my hand as I cry.

It’s only two hours into the new year, and already things are not looking good.