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I don’t bother to reply. He’s not entitled to an explanation.

While my phone is out, I send a message to Mrs Singh at the bar, realising I haven’t seen the roster for this weekend.

Chess

Hey, just checking on my weekend hours. I’ve replaced my phone

Five minutes later, a message comes back.

Mrs Singh

The roster’s already gone out with your replacement. If you’ve changed your mind about resigning, you’ll need to reapply for the position, no guarantees

Resigned? My breath catches. It must’ve been Kincaid.

I’m about to send another message—the bar is the only place that works around my school schedule—then the nurse calls my name again.

Un-resigning will have to wait until later, if Mrs Singh will even let me. She’s not the type of person who’ll easily forgive or forget, and it’s not like Kincaid will apologise for his behaviour.

Even if I talk her into giving my job back, he’ll probably do something to ruin it again.

The doctor has another sheet of questions before she goes ahead with the procedure, which doesn’t take long. A few seconds of the most intense pain I can ever remember, and it’s done.

After resting in the waiting room for another half hour, I leave.

There’s still a chance I could make it back to Westlake for last period, but I don’t even try. I pop out the SIM from the new phone, reset it to factory settings, and place it back inside its box, doing the same with the bracelet, then walk to a pawn shop at the edge of the mall.

I refuse to feel guilty for pawning Kincaid’s gifts. Not when I’m outraged over the loss of my job.

But I’m still nervous as hell. Like any moment he’s going to come flying through the door, demanding to know what I’m doing.

Prickles nest between my shoulder blades while the appraiser scrutinises the jewellery. Each noise makes me jump, and when a car backfires on the street right outside, I nearly bite through my tongue.

“This is a nice piece. Are you sure you want to sell it?”

I place my hands flat on the counter to hide the trembling. “Yes, I’m sure.”

He sucks air in over his teeth, drumming his fingers on the counter. “Best I can do is ten percent. Say… twelve hundred?”

I duck my head to hide the shock.

Kincaid spent twelvethousandon a bracelet.

“Look, sweetheart. This obviously has sentimental value—”

“No, it really doesn’t. It’s just…” I shake myself.Get it together!“I was trying to do addition in my head,” I add, pulling a face.

“Ah, maths. Always a mistake.”

I titter along to the small joke, then flash a wide smile. “Can’t you go any higher?”

He screws up his face like he’s in pain. “To help a sweet girl like yourself? I could maybe go to fifteen hundred.”

“What about this phone?” I push the box across the counter. “Or the two together?”

“This is new?”

“Yeah.” I watch as he fingers the broken seal. “It was a gift, and I took it out to look at it, but it’s never been used.”