She's fine until Landry shifts seats and holds her shaking hand. Then she's a mess again, leaning into him and bawling her eyes out. It's not a bad thing, but she needs to get this out now so she can go home and shower. So she can wash the stink of this night off her.
Landry mumbles against her temple, not words she can hear, but she knows what's coming. 'You need to go to the cops' or 'you need to tell someone'. No, she needs to get herself together so she can get out of the Alamo Freeze before the post game rush happens. She can't face people right now.
And she can't go to the cops. They know her, she's been pulled in for truancy, they've dragged her out of The Landing Strip enough times saying she's going to end up just like Mindy and all the other girls in there. They'll say she deserved it.
She didn't of course, no one deserves anything like that to happen to them. But she's not stupid enough to think everyone is innocent until proven guilty… In a town like Dillon, it all depends on name and reputation. And she's got both that are the wrong kind.
She straightens, pulling away from Landry and wiping her eyes shakily. She gives him a weak smile and says thanks. She gathers her algebra books and pulls her jacket back on, leaving Landry at the table. Her eye feels tight and she knows its red and radiating heat, just waiting for the night to turn it purple and green.
She'll have to think of a way to explain it, she knows all the stupid excuses women use, she knows enough not to blame it on an inanimate object. No 'ran into a door' excuses for her, 'my sister was hogging the tv remote, I copped an elbow in the struggle' is more like it.
She'll go home and tell her mama, she'll crawl into bed with her, falling asleep with her face pressed between her mama's shoulder blades, safe, enveloped in the smell of lilac soap. She'll tell Mindy and Mindy will cover her on the remote control story. She'll keep an eye out at the Landing Strip and if that guy comes in, Johnny the bartender will beat the crap out of him.
She's not alright, not yet. She knows that. She's climbing into her truck like she expects to see a crime scene, wincing as she sits and sighing in relief when she gets both doors locked. Day light will make it better. Maybe she'll talk to Mrs Taylor but more than likely not. She doesn't need any more reasons to think Julie shouldn't hang around her. Maybe she'll take a self-defence class at The Y.
She'll do anything to stop her hands from shaking. She doesn't like this feeling of weakness. She feels small, and its nothing she's ever felt before, or wants to feel again. She can do this, she can pretend everything is all right until everything is all right.
She's fine until she gets home and her mama reaches out with a shaking hand and touches beneath her bruised eye. Then she's a mess again, leaning into her, bawling her eyes out.