Bully Me by Selena

Author:Selena [Selena]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781945780967
Publisher: Speak Now
Published: 2019-12-31T16:00:00+00:00

fourteen

I know I did the right thing. Dixie is no longer the Darling Dog. She doesn’t have to wear dog-ear headbands, and no one barks at her. If anyone’s going to do something, they’ll do it to me. And I can handle it. All I did was take away the bullies’ victim. So why can’t I rid myself of the little voice whispering in the back of my head that someone good, someone better, wouldn’t ruin anyone, even if they deserved ruination, to get what they want?

“I don’t know about this, Dixie,” I say as we pull up at a cemetery in a part of town I’m not at all familiar with. The houses here are boxy, brick affairs with narrow windows fitted with air conditioning units. It’s obvious they were ugly even when they were built, and that must have been decades ago, judging by the condition they’re in. There’s a reason I’ve never been to this side of town. People on my side of town like to pretend this side doesn’t exist.

“Just make it quick,” Royal says, shutting off the engine of his brand-new Range Rover.

“You know, you wouldn’t have to shuttle me around if you’d convince Daddy to let me drive.”

“When you get a license, you can drive,” Royal says with a smug smile.

“Which will never happen if you don’t let me practice.”

“You think I’m letting you practice on my new baby?” he asks with mock shock.

“I wouldn’t run it into any parked cars,” I shoot back. “So I’m already a better driver than you.”

“No license, no driving,” he says. “Go see your dead girl. I’ve got shit to do.”

I roll my eyes at Dixie, and she hops out and leads me across a small stretch of dead grass to a creaky iron gate. We enter the cemetery, which stretches back quite a way. The headstones are mostly small, with faded plastic flowers on many of them. An old white church sits beside it, the paint peeling along the bottom boards and stained with lichen and dust.

“This is depressing,” I mutter as we make our way back along a path worn through the grass. Three figures approach on the path, two men and a petite woman, backlit by the setting sun. We’re probably the last people to visit today, as I don’t see anyone else.

“It’s a cemetery,” Dixie says. “I think the point is to be depressing.”

A chill works its way through me, and I clutch the bouquet we bought on the way here to my chest. This could have been the end result last year. It almost was. A few more minutes in that pool, and it would have ended differently. If her mom had gotten home five minutes later, if she’d hit two more red lights, if she’d fed the dog first when she walked in the house, if she’d put away the groceries before looking for her daughter. I try to imagine how I’d feel if I had to visit that girl’s grave, and another shudder wracks my body, making me clutch the flowers even tighter.

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