Luck Always Runs Out

Mila’s POV

As it turns out, I misread my schedule. It turns out that my classes don’t start until tomorrow, but I was supposed to start my new job right after my last class.

It would be a waste of time for me to take the bus home just to leave again, so I text Isabella to see if she can pick me up. She had an appointment with her councilor today, so she should still be on campus.

It only takes her a few seconds to answer.

Izzy: I’ll be done in ten minutes! Are you okay waiting for a bit?

Me: Of course. No hurries.

Izzy: Thanks babe! I’ll see you in a little while. (Kissy face emoji)

I smile down at her text.

She’s always so upbeat and ready to go for anything, which still makes me wonder why she picked me as a friend. I’m a lot more quiet and standoffish than her, but what do they say? Behind every extravert is an introvert. Well, that is definitely true for the two of us.

I find an empty table near the school coffee kiosk and sit down to wait. A few whispers float my way, but I ignore them. It’s nothing I haven’t heard before.

Speaking of that, my phone goes off again. This time it’s from a number I don’t recognize. The message hits me like an arrow to the chest. Every word is vile and mean. Even after all the things I’ve been called, it doesn’t hurt any less.

My eyes burn, but I fight back the tears. No way am I going to cry in public. Another message comes in from the same number, and a sound of shock escapes me before I can stifle it.

This one is a lot worse.

This one is a lot darker than any I’ve gotten so far.

It isn’t from my ex since he wouldn’t bother hiding it was him, which is why he still texts me from his personal number. This is someone else and they aren’t holding back. The messages sound almost too personal.

“Mila!” My head snaps up at the sound of my name and I see Isabella waving at me from her too cute pink VW bug.

They stopped making those cars ages ago, but she won’t let it go even after her father offered to buy her a new one. Honestly, the thing is basically her in car form, so I’m not surprised.

I pocket my phone and head her way, but I keep my eyes facing forward.

The whispers have gotten louder and I don’t want to draw any more attention to myself than necessary. If I could have gone to a different college so that I could escape my past, I would have, but I can’t. Isabella is the only one that makes going here bearable.

I settle into her car, the comfort of the seat easing the tension that had gripped me just moments ago. She leans over, arms enveloping me in a warm embrace. Her hug serves as a remedy, gradually dispelling the heaviness that clung to me earlier. A smile tugs at my lips – a genuine response to her comforting gesture. There's something about her embraces that has a magical way of lifting my spirits.

Her grip loosens, and I'm left with a lingering sense of connection, a residue of her care. But then, before I can fully relish the moment, she plants a smacking kiss on my cheek. The unexpected contact makes me scrunch my face in mock horror, my hand instinctively wiping it away. My reaction becomes the catalyst for her unrestrained laughter, a sound that's both infectious and endearing.

“Don’t wipe away my love Mila!” She sing songs.

I roll my eyes, feigning annoyance to match her theatrics. “Stop being gross, Isabella!”

Her laughter fills the car, a symphony of joy that envelops us as she navigates the car out of the parking lot. “So you have no class today and don’t want to go home. What should we do to pass the time?”

“No.” I say as soon as she smirks at me. “Isabella please no.”

She continues to smirk, and I drop my head back with a groan. How did I let myself get into this situation again?

My unspoken pleas for a miracle remain unanswered as we pull into the local mall, the wheels crunching on the asphalt. A mere fifteen minutes have passed since her initial question.

Isabella derives an odd sense of satisfaction from subjecting me to shopping expeditions. It's a torture that has become a recurring event, and today is no exception. It always ends with her buying me clothes I would never wear because my stepmom would wonder where I got it, and then take them.

Isabella doesn’t know about my life outside of school though, so she doesn’t know that all the nice things she’s ever bought me are hidden in the back of my closet. She’s always too distracted to notice I’ve never worn any of them and I’m glad. It would break my heart to explain the situation to her, mostly because she would immediately try to help me, but that would only make things worse.

Money is all my stepmom wants, so if she finds out that I have a rich friend, she will work her way into our friendship and ruin it. She’ll find a way to get money from Isabella, and I won’t let that happen.

As we leave the car, I resign myself to the inevitable. The mall's entrance beckons, and Isabella's triumphant grin assures me that there's no escape.

Isabella grabs my hand and drags me inside to the giant building, not minding one bit that I’m dragging my feet. I pulled on a hoodie from my duffle bag and pulled the hood on, hoping it will conceal me enough from anyone who might recognize me.

Yep, even in a huge place like this, I’m bound to run into someone who hates me.

So far I’ve been lucky, but luck always runs out, eventually.