I sit at the bus station waiting for the coach to the city anxiously and watch the huge clock over the
ticket box tick slowly by. I’ve been watching the oncoming arrivals like a hawk for any sign of my family,
or Arrick’s. I have no doubt that once they realize I’m gone they’ll check the bus terminals for me, and I
can’t face any of them. I’ve mulled over every scenario; running to Jake to talk sense into my parents,
running to Leila, but it all comes down to one very unavoidable fact. When my dad gets something in
his head that he thinks is for the best, then no one, and I mean no one, can stand in his way. The fact
he thinks I’m some kind of drug-addicted alcoholic in need of saving, and the only way is to condemn
me to dry out, means he’ll make sure it happens no matter what anyone else says to him. No way in
hell I’m going through that kind of insanity.
My phone rings in my bag and I haul it out nervously. I’ve been waiting for the calls to start but I see red
when Camilla’s name flashes on screen. I think about rejecting it, but my fiery temper wants to be
unleashed somewhere and may as well be on her, seeing as she is the reason I’m even in this mess
right now.
“What is it, Camilla?” I snap haughtily down the phone at her. Glaring furiously at the scenery in front of
me.
“Oh, babes, I’m soo, soo, very sorry about last night. I’m such a prize bitch when I’ve been on the
champers, and I was a complete wreck when I woke up this morning and remembered how much I let
you down. How truly awful I behaved toward you, Dahling.” The whiny voice and overdramatic sniffs
grate on my nerves and spike up the rage that’s been simmering the full thirty minutes I’ve been here.
“You didn’t just let me down, Cam, you let that sleazy fuck grind on me and get his hand up my skirt.
Do you know how disgusting I felt when I got home? What would have happened if I hadn’t come round
and stopped him?” My voice catches in my throat, a hint of a panic attack taking effect as memories of
last night flood back. I get that sickening flashback feeling when I visualize Malcolm’s slimy face.
“Babes, I really thought you were into him, and I behaved soo disgustingly to you. Please give me
another chance. We’ll spend time together somewhere of your choosing to make amends, a little girly
night, and I’ll prove you can trust me. I’m soo sorry. Please don’t be mad at me, Sophieboo.” Her tone
grates on me, like nails on a chalkboard.
“Look, I’m trying to get a coach to the city. My parents tried to put me in rehab, so I’m out of here. I
don’t know when I’ll see you again.” I shrug, seeing a coach in the distance and checking once more
than no one familiar has shown up. I clutch my ticket tighter and scoop up my backpack. Camilla’s
apology is doing nothing for my mood, and I have no idea if I should believe her. I’m still majorly pissed,
and my mind is on far more pressing issues. Like getting the hell out of dodge.
“Oh, my God, I like totally have a place in the city you could crash at. It belongs to a friend of mine and
I could meet you there. Please, Sophieboo, let me make this up to you? Let me do this to show you
how genuinely sorry I am.” She croons, overly babylike.
I sigh, my head racing with what I should do and trying to figure out if Amber would even let me move
back in; that arrangement was only meant to be temporary, but seeing as she is one of the so-called
friends who didn’t give a shit about my disappearance, then I guess not.
“Look, my bus is here. So, if you want to meet me then tell me where and when, as I need to go.” I’m
caving, I know I am, and even though every part of me is telling me that Camilla is bad news, I really
have no one else at this moment in time. If I go to Emma or Leila, they might side with my parents and
agree that no real harm can come of easing their worries with some time at a five-star rehab clinic, and
the last thing I need is being put under house arrest by strangers. I’ve heard stories about those places;
I don’t need anyone trying to enforce dominance over me. Shivers run up my spine at the mere thought
of it.
“Oh … oh, my god. Like, okay.” She sounds as flustered and excited as the morning she offered to
shop for me. I bite down on my lip as another bout of doubt hits me in the stomach. “Just give me your
coach details and I’ll meet you at the other end. I have a car, so I’m sure I’ll make it in better time than
you will, once I organize the details. I know how slow those coaches are.” Camilla gushes with
happiness down the cell and I find myself giving in entirely, caught at her mercy because I have no
better options.
***
I’m stiff after the long bus ride, and just as she promised, upon leaving it, I see Camilla leaning against
a black Lamborghini in the parking lot. Dressed in killer tailoring, over spiked heels and looking movie
star spectacular. I turned my cell off for fear of my family trying to call me when I hit the bus and am
relieved to see I won’t need to switch it on to locate Camilla. My next step will be to ditch my phone
altogether until I am ready to face them all, maybe leave it switched off in whatever apartment Camilla
is offering for me to crash in until I get myself back together.
“Nice car.” I nod towards her, still hostile after last night, not ready to forgive anything just yet. Even
after hours on a bus, mulling everything over, I’m still majorly pissed at her, and I don’t trust her at all.
“Dahling boo, are you still cross with me? I said I was sorry; can we just kiss and make up?” She
frowns at me, petted lip, and puppy dog eyes, followed by a smile and I roll my eyes at her, temper
grating internally.
“Look, just don’t pull that shit on me again, okay? Friends don’t do that to one another, we’re supposed
to have each other’s back.” I throw my bag in the back of the car and slide in. More than aware that she
probably has no concept of a real friend, of a friendship like I have with Arry. Camilla follows to the
driver’s side, sliding in gracefully and turns to me with an even fuller pout.
“I’m soweee. Promise I won’t do it again. I was such a drunken cow, and I’m so awful when I drink....
Forgive me? I won’t do it again … pinky promise.” She holds up a manicured talon, tipped in red, but it
only makes my heart constrict at the memory of Arrick that night in the city. I turn away for a second to
regain control of the sudden urge to cry and wave it away.
“That’s juvenile! I believe you, okay? Can we just get going?” I’m relieved to see her put her hand down
and get the car on the road.
The journey is fast after the long hours on the most uncomfortable coach journey in history. The
apartment is nice, as apartments go. It’s on the Upper East Side, a little too close to Arrick’s for
comfort, but as I’m currently avoiding him like the plague, I hope it won’t be an issue. Arrick always
swung in different social circles to me, so I hope I won’t run into him anytime soon.
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