Page 30 of Make Me Pretty

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really,” I sigh.

“Do you want me to come home?” I can see her face in my mind—eyes crinkled with worry, soft hands clasping mine, uncaring of the mess and destruction. Always focused on me.

I wish I wasn’t so fucked up—she doesn’t deserve me like this.

“Nah, Ma. I’m okay. Was just…” I trail off, uncertain of what I can even say. I’ve got to get over this shit with Abel. I can’t be around it, but I can’t avoid it.

What’s right anymore? What’s the right fucking choice?

What the fuck am I supposed to do to keep everyone happy? All the while, the little fucking runt keeps at it. Pushing andpushing, justhopingI’ll snap—like that would actually be a good thing! Fuck, I was so close…

“Peris?”

I shake my head and drop it back between my shoulders. The lights above cause multicolored lines to flash behind my closed lids, and I follow their swirling path. “Just memories, you know.” A good enough explanation as any, I guess.

“Did something happen to bring them on?”

“Nuh-uh. Just one of those days, I guess. I’m tired.”

“Okay, baby.” She accepts my answer easily. “Do you want to call Dr.—”

“Nope,” I rush to interrupt her, eyes now open, muscles tense all over. “I’m good, really. Was an accident. I’m getting it cleaned up.”

There’s a long pause with only static shared between us. Muffled voices filter over the line. “I’ve gotta go, but thank you for letting me know. I’ll call the contractor tomorrow.”

“I’m really sorry, Mom.” I blink away the sting in my eyes,refusingto let them fall.But I can feel it all starting to slip away.

“Don’t be, Peris. It’s okay. I’ll talk to you tomorrow. I love you.”

“Love you.” My phone slips from my hand, clattering to the floor. Probably broken and shattered.

I don’t even care.

My eyes have never stung so muchin my fucking life. Sleep evaded me, never once even coming close enough to touch.

Digging the heels of my palms into my eyes, I lean back against the table, listening to the rush of lunch. Spraying water, clacking trays. Feet scuffing along the squeaky floors.

“Hey, dude. You look like shit,” Corbin tells me very informationally as he plops down next to me, jostling the table. I peel open one eye to glare at him.

“Yes, thank you. I didn’t fucking realize.”

His lips pucker before he turns away to shove the slice of pizza into his mouth. I glare with disgust before turning away to drop my head into my hands, fingers massaging my temples against the sleep-deprived migraine pulsing away.

“Seriously though. You look like death.” This time it’s Gabe commenting. Awesome.

I don’t respond.

“Hey, Peris,” Sierra says as she walks past the table. I glance up and nod my head.

“What’s up?” I ask when she pauses. Her painted nails tap along the side of her tray.

“Just wanted to ask if you’re still good to go with volunteering.” I blink slowly, brows furrowed.

“For…?” I ask after a minute. Gabe elbows me in the side, making me grunt. I scowl at him, and he just shrugs—the asshole.

Sierra laughs softly at our usual antics. “The fundraiser for the PTA.”