17. Excuse me?

TASHA

I chant the last sentence of Our Lord's Prayer in my head rapidly to prevent myself from slapping off that sly smile coating Claire's wretched face.

"Hey Claire." I snide back at her, masking my indignation with a fake smile. Samantha leans on the locker beside mine, her closeness to me itching my fingers with the urge to sink them into her blonde wavy hair and just drag at the strands mercilessly.

"So Tasha," Samantha starts, shoving me by the shoulder. "How have you been? I know you must be really going through a lot right now."

Her voice carries that lackadaisical disdain coated with fake sickening sympathy that just increases the boiling point of my anger. My vexation is simmering, but I hold it in. Everyone in the hallway is staring at us right now, but they are mainly staring at me, watching me like impatient hawks, intensely waiting for me to do something. Something probably erratic like clawing someone's face again.

Do I look like a fucking entertaining clown to them?

I b