Bad Things

27. Devastation

Camila had taken the bags from him reluctantly and glanced inside, spying the array of maternity pants, shirts, skirts, and undergarments. "Clothes?"

"After I saw you last week wearing ... well," he gestured to the oversized t-shirt and sweatpants she still wore, "that, I assumed you were probably in need of something new."

Suspicion blossomed inside of her as she'd watched him fidget in the Steinfeld's doorway. This wasn't the man she knew.

Even now, hours later, as she looked down at the skirt flowing around her ankles, she felt it. That stitch of question, of uncertainty, of mistrust. Why did he care what she wore anyway?

Camila turned around in a slow circle for Hailee, her hands out to her sides. "Well? Better?"

"Uh huh. I even like it with that ratty tank top you've got going on there."

Camila flipped her off and plopped back down on the bed, deciding to push thoughts of her father out of her mind, and grabbed her laptop.

Hailee stood, placing her hands on her hips, as she looked down at her friend, her brows coming together a bit in the middle. "Are you sure you don't want to come to the game? I promise Ails won't say anything to you. If she even tries, I'll give her a fat lip to go along with her swollen nose."

Camila shook her head, thinking that the final basketball game of the season was the last place on Earth she wanted to be. "No. I have to get a little homework done. This online schooling is a lot more work than I thought it was going to be."

"Homework on a Friday night? That's pathetic even for you, Mila. Tell me you at least have some sort of sexy rendezvous with Loverboy or something."

"Well, that's me. Miss Pathetic. And no." Camila frowned and opened the portal to her new school. The white and gold banner stretching across the top still made her stomach turn. "Now, run along so I can be a good little home-school student."

Hailee let out a defeated sigh. "Okay, I get it. You don't want to go. You don't have to claim 'unavoidable homework' just to get out of it." She paused. "But ... I could always skip and stay here—"

"Haiz," Mila interrupted, meeting her friend's concerned stare. "Just go, okay? It's fine."

"But it's your last night here. I feel like we should hang out and ... I don't know ... look up sexy boy pictures or read some smutty love story together or something."

Camila forced out a laugh. "As lovely as that sounds, I'm sure. Just go." Quietly she added, "Please."

Hailee's expression softened, as she nodded in understanding and turned to go, but paused at the door. "I really do like the skirt. You look pretty."

Camila's cheeks warmed at the compliment, but she said nothing in return as Hailee exited and closed the door behind her. Camila's own eyes, reflected in the full-length mirror attached to the back of Hailee's door, stared back at her. Her heart quickened against her ribs as hot disgust flooded through her. Even still, she could not bear to look at her own reflection. It didn't matter how much pretty she layered on top, how many times other people told her she was beautiful to them, the ugly had seeped through her skin and burrowed straight into her heart.