For a second, we just looked at each other. Then, without warning, she chucked the cue in Drew’s general direction and stalked up to me, looking apocalyptic. Alice must have seen it too because she backed away.
Tate stood with her toes almost touching mine, staring up into my face. “Okay, I’ve had about enough. You need to start talking to me.”
I wanted to sound assertive, but I had to look over her head to keep my voice from cracking. “We don’t have anything to talk about.”
She grabbed my wrist and yanked me closer. “Look, maybe you don’t give a shit about any of this, but I’m not going to sit around and act like everything is normal and fine!”
“Tate, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
She shook her head and looked away. “You believed me today. You believed me and it scared you, and now you’re just too much of a pussy to man up and say it.” She was standing with her shoulders slumped and her eyes downcast, but her fingers were digging into my wrist. “Why won’t you just say it?”
I stared down at her with my mouth open. Her jaw was hard, but I knew without a doubt that she wasn’t nearly as mad as I was—not even close.
You don’t get to tell me what I should do. That’s what I should have said. You don’t get to be self-righteous, because you have no idea what it’s like to be me. People get beaten to death for being me. People have close, personal relationships with lynch mobs for being me. I am on the outside all the time, with no chance at a normal life, no way to be average or to fit in. Free weights in PE constitute a medical emergency, food poisoning means anything that comes in a can. Oh, and by the way, there’s a really good chance I’m dying, so that’s pretty awesome.
I just looked at her, and when she didn’t say anything else, I jerked my arm out of her hand. Alice was standing against the half wall, watching us with a stunned look. I wanted to tell her I was sorry for the interruption, that my life was not usually this bizarre, but my throat was so tight I knew I’d never get the words out. I just walked out of the lounge and into the crowd to find Roswell.
He was over by the bar with Stephanie and Jenna. I grabbed him by the back of his jacket and pulled him away from them. When he didn’t shake me off or ask why I was acting like a lunatic, I thanked God and started for the door.
My getaway wasn’t clean. It should have been a speedy, decisive exit, but I didn’t have that kind of discipline. I glanced back—just once. But it was enough. Tate was standing in the lounge where I’d left her, with a pool cue in her hands and the most painful look on her face.
