Page 134 of Rock Bottom Girl

I wished I had no concern about consequences. That I could just break her stupid little perfect nose and make her feel an ounce of the pain she doled out for others on a daily basis.

But I had a healthy fear of authority. And my parents couldn’t afford to buy me out of trouble.

“Why are you even doing this? What have I ever done to you?” I demanded.

She took a step into my space, her pretty face twisting into an ugly mask of hate. “You exist. You think that you deserve to date someone like Travis? You think that someone like Jake would be into you? You need to stay where you belong. At the bottom of the food chain with the rest of the losers in this town.”

Her cronies giggled nervously behind her.

“Why?” I insisted again. I told myself the answer just might set me free. That kicking her in the shins and unleashing a gallon of sardines in her cute little convertible wouldn’t solve anything.

“Because you’re nothing. You’ll never be anything. Just like the rest of these pathetic losers in this school. They at least know their place. You need to remember yours.”

“If you don’t stop torturing me, I’m going to tell someone.”

She let out a peal of laughter. “Who? That garden gnome, Mr. Fester? My dad basically owns him.”

“Your dad is a gynecologist. He doesn’t own people.” The Armburgers had money. More money than the Ciceros and most other people in town. They had ‘get whatever you want at the Gap and not just for back-to-school’ money. But not ‘own people’ money.

“Why don’t you do us all a favor and just stop existing. No one likes you. No one wants you around. You’re a waste of DNA.”

I flicked her off and, with a snarl, turned around and marched away, reminding myself of how much I didn’t want to get suspended my senior year. Dear God, I wasn’t so sure that I’d survive the rest of the school year. Not without a meltdown.

But this time, I wasn’t going down without a fight.

Victoriously, I pulled out Vicky’s little pocket voice recorder and hit Stop. Her parents got it for her when she started working on the school newspaper. And I was going to use it to bring down the high school nobility.

“Did you get it?” Vicky hissed, appearing in the hall next to me. She danced from foot to foot while I tore the rest of the sad babies off my locker.

“Oh, I got it. Now I just need to figure out what to do with it.”

“Make it diabolical,” Vicky encouraged.

57

Marley

October

“You want me to ride what?” I squeaked.

Bill Beerman batted his blond lashes at me. “A donkey.”

“You want me to ride a donkey?” I knew things had been going too well. We were into October. The leaves were changing, the air was crisp, my team had won more games than they’d lost, and I’d lost count of the orgasms Jake had so generously bestowed upon me.

“It’s a tradition.” Bill warmed up to make his case for why I should consider sitting astride a beast of burden in the high school gymnasium where I had finally become a respected member of the faculty.

Respected members of the faculty didnotparticipate in the Donkey Basketball game. At the very most, they wore matching t-shirts and collected donations from the crowd during the annual Donkey Basketball game.

I remembered well, laughing my ass off at our young chemistry teacher when she had to shovel up the steaming heap of donkey shit her ride gifted to her.

“I don’t think my insurance covers donkey-related injuries.”

“You wear helmets,” he said as if that made it better instead of significantly worse. “Jake’s doing it, and we thought it would be really funny to put you on opposite teams.”

“Hilarious,” I scoffed. “There is absolutelyno wayI’m riding a donkey.”

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