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THROWING HER BOOK BAG on her bed, Penny wipes the tears from her eyes. She strips off her soaking-wet sweatshirt and shakes out her damp locks, flinging drops of moisture across the floor. Her teeth chatter as she rubs her hands together. She glances in the mirror. Her lips are blue, her cheeks purple. She’s nearly hypothermic.
She slams her closet door. What did she expect after walking five miles in the freezing rain with no coat? It was the perfect ending to the day from hell.
After being subjected to Hannah and her minions’ wrath while helping decorate the freshman hall for Homecoming, she’d had no choice but to walk home. Hannah and her evil sidekick, Addy, had been in rare form this afternoon. As always, Penny was their target. Wasn’t Christy supposed to talk to Hannah about laying off the bullying? And now? Her worst nightmare had come true.
Hannah stole my journal. I’m at her mercy.
Penny wraps a blanket around her shoulders and sobs. “This is all my fault.”
She usually writes in her journal every day in study hall when she doesn’t have to worry about prying eyes. After today’s writing session, she’d forgotten to place it in the interior pocket of her bag like she usually does. She’d been distracted while standing in the lunch line. Luke had overheard Barron Killian ask her for the hundredth time if she was wearing hot pink panties and threatened to lay him out. She rolls her eyes. It wasn’t that big of a deal. Killian has asked her that same question every day since the fifth grade. She could care less about that idiot’s sick underwear fetish.
But what Hannah and Addy did today topped all the bullying they’ve subjected her to thus far.
They made her climb a seven-foot ladder knowing she isn’t very coordinated. Somewhere between hanging streamers and critiquing Penny’s work, they’d snuck into her backpack and pilfered through her things while she prayed she didn’t end up with a concussion. Taking said journal, they threatened to post everything in it on MySpace if she didn’t leave Luke alone.
Penny sniffles. “They need to tell that to their Golden Boy.”
“Penelope? Where the hell are you?”
Bolting up, Penny flips the lock on the door before her mother enters. There is no way she’s going to let anyone see her like this. The door handle jiggles. Penny takes a deep breath. “I just took a shower. I’m getting dressed.”
Miranda huffs from behind the door. “I’m going out. Get that painting shit out of the basement tonight. If it isn’t gone, I’m trashing everything.”
As her mother’s footsteps disappear down the stairs, Penny slumps into her desk chair and sighs. When she was younger, she used art to deal with the horrible feelings that swirl through her every minute of every hour of the day. At one time, it had been cathartic, just like writing in her journal.
She fingers the frame of the only piece she’d kept... the one where she felt like she was drowning. She’d painted it the day after Killian told her she should kill herself. And it all started with Hannah decapitating Ramses.
Something is very wrong with that girl. Isn’t killing animals something serial killers did in their youth? Or psychopaths.
What makes people think and do the things they do? Is it really biology? Or a bad family life? In some cases, probably both. Asshats like Killian whose father is a drunk and gambles half their money away? His lashing out makes sense. Displacement—that’s what psychologists call it.
But Hannah Sparks lives in a fancy mansion with her doting mother and father on the richest side of town. She’s pretty and popular. She’s the captain of the freshman cheer squad. Her parents are involved with her life and support her no matter what she does.
So, it has to be biology, right?
Penny snorts. “Does it matter?” It doesn’t explain the fact that Hannah has been bullying her for years.
Penny’s phone rings. Sighing, she answers, “Hello?”
“Penny? It’s Rachel Monroe. I was wondering if you could sit for us on Saturday night. I know you said you were busy, but we couldn’t find anyone else last minute. It’s really important. I’ll pay you extra.”
Sitting up, Penny smiles. Heck, yeah! No date with Brandon. No Luke and Christy. Extra money. Win-win-win. “Sure, Mrs. Monroe. I’ll cancel my plans. No problem.”
“Great! I’ll pick you up at four. It’s in the city. Traffic, you know.”
“That’s fine. I’ll see you then.” Ending the call, Penny grabs a dry sweatshirt and pulls it over her head. Relief settles through her. At least she won’t have to endure the date from hell.