“Uh,” she said weakly, “I’ll see you guys tomorrow. Why don’t you guys—”
“Go?” Tristan finished, looking dismayed. “Are you serious?”
“Yeah, she is,” I clipped out, looking at the door pointedly. “Thanks for driving her home.”
“Holy shit, you are a real class act,” Tristan muttered underneath her breath, standing. Rolling her eyes, she followed everyone else out.
Mandy hesitated in the doorway, before she closed it and looked at me. Her eyes shifted to the bags at my feet.
I kicked ‘em and they spilled over.
“These are yours,” I exclaimed. “We’re leaving for rehab. Right now.”
Mandy laughed, shaking her head. “Oh no, oh no, no, no, no. I’m not. I’m not going anywhere.”
“You are,” I said again firmly, “and you’re going tonight.”
“No.”
“You’re addicted. You had enough of it upstairs to sell ‘em yourself.”
“No,” she said again, shaking her head, frozen in place.
“I’m a pro at this, Mandy. I’m not going to listen to your cries, to your begs, or to your pleas. I’m done. I’ve been there, done that, and I’m not going back. You’re going to rehab. Tonight.”
My eyes held my promise.
I closed my eyes for a second, flinching as I remembered his voice, begging me not to take him.
“Let’s go.” I cleared my throat, shaking away the memories.
“I’m not going,” Mandy cried out, and I heard the hitch in her voice. She would become hysterical in a second, when the shock wore off and she realized the game was over.
“It’s just me right now,” I cut off her tirade, “your parents are gone for the next month. Austin won’t have to know. So it’s just me and this won’t go anywhere else, I promise. But you are going. I will not listen to anything, any games, any promises, anything. I’ve heard ‘em all, Mandy. I’ve gone through this before and you’re not going to win. You’re not going to get out of this. If you run out of here, I’ll call the cops.”
I had no proof. I’d flushed the evidence, but she didn’t know.
She didn’t need to know.
“I found all of them. In your Kleenex box. Under your mattress. In your bathroom. I found them all. All five grand worth,” I bit out, my jaw clenching.
“Do you have any idea?” she started out softly, “any idea what it’s like?”
“What? The pressure to be perfect?” I shot back, knowing why she’d gone for them. “To be perfect for your family? Your perfect boyfriend? Your perfect scholarship? Student council. Cheerleading. Keeping friends like Amber and Jasmine. Being one of the most popular girls? No. I don’t know what that’s like, but I know what it’s like it try to be perfect.”
I’d taken every excuse she was going to use.
“I used to try to be perfect,” I swore, “and it earned me an abusive foster father who’d visit my room at night when I was six.”
Mandy paled as my words registered.
“So fuck you. I know what it’s like, but I never turned to drugs. Ever.”
“I—” Mandy tried.
“No. We’re going. There is no debate, no give and take in this. You’re going. Now,” I said forcefully, grabbing my purse and her keys.
I threw the bags at her. She blindly caught one of them, so I grabbed the other two and her elbow. I led her out the door and into her car. Then I got into the driver’s side and started the car.