Page 39 of Cry Madness
She takes her sweet-ass time before replying.
Scarlett: Figured it was obvious.
Me: Guess it is.
Me: You can keep him.
Because I’ll be damned if I’m going to fight her for a man—even if that man is Maddox.
Scarlett: Oh, Alice, you tell me that like he’s yours to give away.
This bitch.
Me: I never wanted him he’s disloyal and fucks like shit
Scarlett: But you did fuck him. Slut.
Me: Better a slut than a twat
Scarlett: Better a twat than a sad suicidal coward.
There’s about a million different replies I can send, and each one would hit way below the belt. My fingers actually hurt from not putting them on the keyboard and dropping down to Scarlett’s level. But really, trading barbs with her is pointless. She’ll always be a nasty bitch, and no amount of fighting back will change that or make me feel any better. Opting to be the better person and do the adult thing, I block her.
Block her, and block Maddox because he can go fuck himself.
He wants to talk? Too bad. He can have all the conversations he wants with Scarlett.
And yet I’ll be damned if I give him the last word—and this disgusting picture is the last word. He almost got me. Nearly destroyed the barrier I built between us. How stupid of me. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Thank gawd Scarlett sent me this. If she didn’t, I might not have seen through Maddox’s bullshit until it was too late.
Until I gave him my whole heart.
I leap from the chair, ignore the stares as I gather my things, and dash out of class. Professor Grasmere calls after me, but I ignore him as well. Shove open the door and storm out, and only once I get to my SUV and lock the doors, sitting there fora few moments to calm down before I drive, three questions seep past my anger.
Who took the photo?
Why did they take it?
And also, how the hell did Scarlett get it?
Suddenly, I’m not only angry, but I’m also seriously suspicious as well…
THIRTEEN
“Have I gone mad?”
—Hatter,Alice in Wonderland
Alice is waiting for me in the center of the maze. I find her sitting beneath the wisteria tree, back against the trunk and legs steepled. With eyes closed and her arms resting on her knees, she has headphones on, her toes tapping to the beat of whatever song she’s listening to. When she opens her eyes and sees me walking toward her, she rips off the headphones, grabs her phone to shut the music app, then pops to her feet. Why she’s glaring at me with that fucking scowl on her face is beyond me.
I’m the one who’s pissed here. “You got something you want to confess? Something you need to get off your chest?”
Stomping toward me across the chessboard, she has her phone up, screen directed at me. “Do you?”
My eyebrows shoot way up. “Pardon you?”
“Pardonme? No, pal, pardonyou.”
Pal?Did she call me fuckingpal? Oh, hell no. This situation did not just go sideways before it even began. “What crawled up your ass and died?”