My dress had been vandalized. Smeared along the pretty sheer skirt in red lipstick were the words: Gemma is a SLUT.
I gasped, grappling with the material to try and get a better look.
What. The. Fuck.
“You’re a fucking psycho,” Gemma hissed, still smiling.
“Pot meet overly priced plastic kettle,” I spat, dropping my dress.
“You’re envious, you’re hateful. You’ve always been that way,” Gemma said. “There’s a reason you don’t have friends, Abby. A reason we vacation without you. A reason Mom constantly wonders if you were switched at the hospital.”
I looked over the crowd, seeing my old classmates. Suit-clad arms were folded. Beautiful, professionally made-up eyes glittered under the low light, watching me. A hushed murmur began to rise like a slow wave.
I knew what they were thinking, and it gutted me like a harpoon. It was the same thought keeping me from being invited to parties, spurring me to show up uninvited and armoring me to act like I enjoyed ruining their fun.
God, Abby, take a fucking hint.
I just hoped someone would say they were happy to see me.
Once.
“Take a fucking hint.”
I launched at Gemma. I tangled my fingers in her silky blown-out curls, and I knew it wasn’t going to end well. People think I’m malicious and vindictive and did things because I like causing drama. But have you ever been so hurt and torn open you’d do anything to make the throbbing pain stop?
You can’t think about the after, only the now?
Why do I have to get married before Gemma? And why so rushed?
Why does everything in my life have to revolve around Crowne Industries?
I yanked at my sister’s hair, and she gripped my wrists, pulling me the other way.
“You’re such a disgrace to our name,” Gemma said, our foreheads touching.
“You’re a kiss-ass.”
“Yeah, well you’re a kiss-ass wannabe.” Gemma was strong. She held me there, forcing me to listen. “And that’s fucking pathetic.”
Another spear to my heart.
I redirected my grip from Gemma’s hair to her nice dress, tearing at the lace, and she was trying to do the same when I was pulled off, back into the arms of Theo. Gemma tore my dress as I went, and I only managed to slightly wrinkle hers.
Theo’s heat wrapped around me, arms like corded iron. Gemma’s perfect blonde curls were mussed and tangled, and the Crowne tiara was now askew. That filled me with bitter-sweet joy.
“Stop.” His low, commanding voice vibrated against my ear. I relaxed, my hurt melting into his chest.
For a stupid, blinding minute I felt safe. Theo had been the only one I’d ever felt safe with.
Then he dropped me. I watched as if viewing a car crash as he went and helped my sister off the floor, even going so far as to fix her tiara. Pain tore my heart down the middle.
“Well, happy birthday to Gemma,” I said. “The real whore of Crowne Industries.”
“Cover yourself,” my mother hissed. I looked down, finding my breasts exposed where Gemma had ripped. I quickly slammed my arms over my chest, but it was useless—everyone had seen.
My eyes snapped from her to the crowd watching with delight, then back to her. I ground my jaw so tears wouldn’t spring. I know what they’re thinking. I’m pulling an Abby, making a mess of things, acting like a fool. I can’t wait to see what the hashtag would be tonight.
“It is such a relief your father isn’t here to see this.” There were few times I’d heard my mother’s voice shake, an anger reserved only for me—her greatest disappointment.