Chapter Eighteen: Confrontation
Chapter Twenty-Six: Tinkerbell
Chapter One
DUMPED
I, Valentina Bell, am a failure.
A failure with a big, fat, capital ‘F’ if today was anything to go by.
First, I failed my driving test, after skipping my last class to take the damn thing. English literature is my favourite class too, and it was my turn to read the part of Catherine in Wuthering Heights. Second, my boyfriend of four months and twenty-seven days dumped me, and then refused to drive me home because he didn’t want to waste another minute with me. Bastard! Third, I ended up missing the bus. Barely. The driver even gave me a snarky wave as he pulled away from the bus stop like it was the highlight of his day.
Great. Just great. Really!
It was gone ten o’clock at night, pitch black, frigging freezing for the beginning of June, and I had to try really hard not to cry. I didn’t want to give tossers like Damian and the bus driver the satisfaction, even though they couldn’t see me. More to the point, if I started, there was no telling when I’d be able to stop, and then my face would go all red and blotchy, my mouth would puff up, and I’d get a runny nose. I knew for a fact I didn’t have any more tissues because I’d used the last one to clean the dog crap off my shoes, which is what made me miss the goddamn bus in the first place.
Yeah, my life sucks.
Because screaming like a banshee would probably get me arrested, I groaned instead and stared at my mobile phone out of habit. At least I’d had just about enough battery left to get a call out to Gemma to come and pick me up. I didn’t even get chance to tell her why before my phone died; I’d run most of it down earlier, bitching to her about the rotten driving test.
Stupid examiner.
This was all his fault. If he had passed me, I’d be cruising home and everything would be fine. I had a perfectly good car stuck on the driveway at home—nothing flash, it was my seventeenth birthday present from my parents a couple of months back—and it’s just sat there, waiting for me, taunting me. But, then, if Damian had taken me home, as any decent ex-boyfriend would, it wouldn’t have mattered, so it was his fault too.
Well I hope karma turned around and bit them both on the backside.
Hard.
A set of car headlamps drew nearer so I dragged myself away from my one-girl pity party and lifted my head in time to see a purple Corsa drive past me on the opposite side of the road.
At last.
I pushed away from the wall of the bus shelter and watched the car turn off the main road into the next side street on the left, swing in a wide arc, then drive back towards me. It pulled into the bus stop, coming to a stop right in front of me. The window nearest to me rolled down and the cute brunette leaned across the vacant seat to speak to me.
‘Hey, foxy lady, do you take I-owe-yous?’ she said, smiling brightly.
Typical Gemma, always trying to be funny.
‘Hey, Gem.’ I reached for the handle to open the door, then flopped into the seat. ‘Thanks for coming to get me.’
‘What are best friends for?’ she said, flapping her hand at me. ‘But, umm … speaking of which, what am I doing here?’ Her grin faltered. ‘Weren’t you supposed to be at Damian’s tonight?’
Straight to the point. Something else I could rely on Gemma for.
‘I was.’ I busied myself with the seatbelt to avoid her searching gaze. ‘Until he dumped me.’
‘What? No!’ Gemma yanked up the handbrake and slipped the car into neutral. ‘Why?’
‘Because …’ I sighed and pretended to study my nails. ‘Because I wouldn’t sleep with him.’ There, I’d said it. Out loud. And it sounded pitiful.
‘You’re kidding me.’
I shook my head.
‘What a dick!’
‘Yeah, that about covers it. He called me a …’ A flush worked its way up to my cheeks until I was grateful for the open window. ‘He called me frigid and told me he was going to go and find a “real girl” instead, so he could “get some pu—”’
‘No, don’t say that word, I hate it,’ Gemma spluttered. ‘Nobody in their right mind still uses it,’ she said, her voice getting louder with each syllable. ‘It’s vulgar and horrid. God, you’re better off without him anyway, Lena.’
‘I know,’ I said, but my tone lacked conviction and tears welled in my eyes.
‘Look, just forget him. He’s a moron to let you go, and he’s so not worth your tears. You deserve much better.’
‘Thanks, Gem. What the hell did I ever see in him?’
‘He was kinda cute. You weren’t to know he was a prize twat. At least you found out now, not later?’
‘I guess …’ I sucked in a deep breath and blinked back the tears. ‘Plenty more fish in the sea and all that, right?’
‘Right.’ Gemma’s eyes took on a glazed look and her head tilted in such a way that spelled danger.
‘Gemma,’ I said, adopting my stern tone. ‘What’s going through that scary brain of yours?’
‘Hmm?’ she said, the picture of innocence.
‘Don’t give me that. I’ve known you too long; the butter-wouldn’t-melt routine doesn’t work on me any more.’
‘I have no idea what you mean.’
‘You … that look