Shredded by Tracy Wolff Page B

City can imagine exactly what I’ve spent the last thirty minutes thinking about.
    “So much for the Welcome Wagon,” Luc mutters, but Ophelia doesn’t object about the lost cone. Instead, she just looks at me, her big green eyes so innocent that I know—I know— she’s screwing with me. She’s been playing me from the second she came back from the bathroom tonight, messing with my head just because she can.
    Which somehow only makes me hotter.
    Not that I have any intention of letting her know that.
    I’ve been desperate for a distraction for two days. Desperate for something, anything, to hold back all the bullshit tumbling around inside me. So far, meeting Ophelia has done a pretty decent job of it. Which means it’s time to take things to the next level. Time to—
    I catch sight of a mom and a little girl walking through the door of the ice-cream shop and freeze in the middle of pushing back from the table. The girl, maybe six or seven, has long black hair, big blue eyes, and cheeks rosy from the cold. One of her hands clutches her mother’s, while the other holds a ragtag stuffed rabbit that has definitely seen better days.
    Oh, shit. Oh, shit. She looks just like April. Her hair, her eyes, her smile. Even her damn purple jacket looks the same.
    I turn away, just in time to realize that Cam has seen the girl, too. I can tell by the way her eyes widen and dart back and forth between the girl and me. By the way she grabs Luc and wrenches him to his feet. By the way her voice sounds all wrong when she says, “Time to go.”
    Then again, maybe it’s my ears and not her voice. God knows, everything feels off inside me, the pressure building up where no one can see. Just like last night, only worse. So much worse. Because tonight I’m shaking apart, ripping at the seams until the jumbled mess inside me is even more mixed up. I’m shredded all over again.
    And because of what? A morbid anniversary that I shouldn’t bother remembering and alittle girl and her damn stuffed rabbit.
    It’s ridiculous. Humiliating. And at the moment I couldn’t care less.
    I head for the door at the closest I can get to a run, brushing past the girl and her mom without so much as an Excuse me or a Fuck you . I’m sure I look like a total pussy to everyone—Z, cracking under the pressure—but right now that doesn’t matter. Nothing does but getting out of here.
    I hit the nearly deserted street and start walking, barely aware of the fact that the others are trailing me down the sidewalk. I’m pissed—at life, at the universe, at that damn little girl even though none of this is her fault.
    It’s my fault. It’s always been my fault. Trying to blame someone else won’t change anything.
    The thought has me slowing down enough that the others can catch up to me. Ash bumps shoulders with me on the left, while Cam grabs my elbow on the right. I know they’re concerned, know they’re just trying to help, but right now sympathy is the last thing I need—especially when it’s sympathy that I don’t deserve.
    I want to shrug them off, to tell them to back off, but none of this is their fault, either. So in the end, all I do is knock my own shoulder into Ash’s even as I wrap my arm around Cam’s shoulders. Then I turn to grin at Luc, who is walking right behind me, a worried look on his face that I know I’m responsible for. Even Ophelia looks uncomfortable, like she’s aware she missed something important and doesn’t quite know how to act in the face of all this tension.
    Time to change that, and fast.
    “So, who’s up for a party?” I ask, reaching into my back pocket for my phone. “I got a couple of texts earlier about one at Mandy’s house and one at—”
    “Seriously?” Luc interrupts me. “That’s all you’re going to say?”
    Damn straight. “I was also going to ask if you wanted to stop by Danny’s and get some weed, but—”
    “You’re a jerk. You know that, Z?” Cam looks furious.
    “I never