Girl, Forgotten (Andrea Oliver 2)

“It’s gonna be okay.” He rubbed her arm, holding her tight. “Do your—will your parents let you—you know?”

She shook her head. Her parents had already decided this was going to happen.

“Okay.” His chest rose as he took a deep breath. “I could—well, if you wanted me to, I could—”

“Thank you, but no.” Emily looked into his big cow eyes. “Blake already asked me to marry him.”

“Oh, Jesus.” Cheese pulled away from her. “No, Emily. I wasn’t gonna ask you that. I was—well, I was gonna offer to beat up whoever did this to you.”

Emily wasn’t sure she believed him, but she chose to take him at face value. “That’s all I need is for you to get suspended.”

“You’re not going to marry Blake, are you?” Cheese looked concerned. “Em, he’s the worst of all of them.”

She almost laughed. “Why would you say that?”

“He’s devious,” Cheese said. “Not like Nardo, who’s just mean. Or Clay, who’s just bored. When Blake takes against you, he really takes against you.”

Emily felt her own concern bubble up. “Blake hasn’t done something to you?”

Cheese shook his head, but she didn’t believe him. “You know, you could do something for me, if you want. I know I have no right to ask, but—”

“What is it?” Emily couldn’t recall him ever asking her for anything.

“I don’t want you to call me Cheese anymore.” He saw her face. “It doesn’t bother me when you say it, but it’s what they say, so—”

“Okay, Jack.” The name sounded funny. She had known him since he’d eaten one of her crayons in kindergarten. “Nice to meet you, Jack.”

He didn’t smile. “You’re not alone, Em. I’m here. Your parents are probably mad, but they’ll get over it. And people at school, well, they’re all a bunch of rejects anyway. What do you care about what they’re saying? This time next year, we’re all gonna be out of this insane asylum anyway, right? Who cares?”

Emily had to swallow before she could speak. “Tell me what they’re saying.”

“That you’re a dirty, dirty girl,” Nardo said.

They both flinched at the sound of his snarky voice.

“What are you two lovebirds doing over here in the corner?” Nardo was leaning against the bookshelves. “Is this where you made your illicit love child?”

“Fuck off.” Jack struggled to stand up. His fists were clenched. He was bigger than Nardo, but Nardo was far too cruel. Jack barely glanced back at Emily before stomping away.

“Well,” Nardo said. “Such a drama queen, our Cheese.”

“He wants to be called Jack now.”

“I want to be called Sir Dicks-a-Lot of Cuntfuckery.” Nardo sat on the floor with a flourish. “Alas, we can’t always get what we want.”

The only consolation in this entire ordeal was that she would never have to pretend to ignore his snide remarks again. “Your parents made it clear that I’m not supposed to talk to you.”

“Where’s the fun in that, Emmie-Em?” Nardo knocked some books off the bottom shelf. “I hear you’ve been searching for the baker who put that bun in your oven.”

Emily wiped her eyes. She no longer cared about her Columbo Investigation. She wanted desperately for Nardo to leave. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Doesn’t it?” Nardo asked. “You could do worse than Blake.”

Emily didn’t see how.

“It’s always been his dream to marry a rich woman he can control.” Nardo gave a sharp, sinister laugh. “Just like your father with your mother, right?”

Emily wiped her eyes again. She hated that he could see her crying. “That’s not funny.”