The Slap That Ended Us

I was not sure when exactly Sally and Fiona became close. It just happened one day, out of nowhere. The strawberry juice he used to bring me every morning was suddenly replaced with plain milk.

"You know I hate plain milk. How do you not know that?" I stared at the carton in my hand, annoyed.

"Come on, the only reason you even liked strawberry juice was that the bottle was pink. You're too old to be drinking strawberry juice every day. Milk is healthier." Sally patted me on the head.

Fiona was holding a carton of plain milk too. She turned to me with a sheepish little smile. "Sorry, pink princess. I like plain milk, so I asked Sal to get this instead."

She paused, then added, "Besides, strawberry juice is sickeningly sweet. Is that really what girls like you drink?"

I set the milk down and looked her dead in the eye. "Do you always give people nicknames they didn't ask for?"

She stiffened, then put on a look of surprise and innocence. "Wow, why so serious? I was just joking. You're way too sensitive, gosh."

"Whether I'm sensitive or you just have a guilty conscience, you know the answer to that."

"Alright, Gia. That's enough." Sally stepped in, looking like he had a headache. "Fiona didn't mean it. She just sometimes says things without thinking. Don't take it to heart."

I was so angry my eyes stung. I shoved Sally hard, then turned back to Fiona. "If you don't know how to talk to people, then don't talk at all!"

Sally flinched in surprise and wrapped his arm around my waist without thinking. "Okay, okay, I'm sorry. Don't be mad. I'll bring you strawberry juice tomorrow, alright?"

Fiona's expression shifted the moment she saw that. She stared at me, hard.

After that, she came for me every single time we crossed paths.

If I pulled out a pack of tissues with pink packaging, she would make a huge scene. "Oh, wow! Even your tissues have to be pink? Do you think you're a princess or something?"

If I wiped my shoes with a wet wipe, she would nudge the boys who liked to tease me and roll her eyes. "The princess' clean freak tendencies are out of control."

At a friend's birthday party, I sat down to catch my breath after dancing, and Fiona shouted across the room, "The princess is tired! Someone get over here and give her a massage!"

Every time, the boys who hung around her would play right along, each one laughing harder than the last like it was the funniest thing they had ever seen.

Sally pushed back at first, telling her to knock it off. However, Fiona waved him off. "It's just a joke. Gia takes herself way too seriously. I'm actually helping her loosen up and get along with everyone."

Sally thought about it for a moment, then nodded. "Gia does act kind of like a princess. Are all girls like this these days?"

Fiona punched him lightly on the shoulder. "Hey, hey, hey, don't lump me in with those prissy little girls. I'm nothing like them."

Sally smiled at that.

My heart sank.

The truth was, I always knew Sally thought I was high-maintenance—that I was too delicate, too temperamental. I supposed for most boys who grew up in the mafia, liking pink, being a clean freak, and not being physically strong was all it took to earn the princess label.

One day, I finally snapped.

I had just come back from a vacation with my parents at our family's beachside estate in Florica. My skin had tanned quite a bit from the sun, though it had happened before, so I did not think much of it.

That evening, I wore a pink dress to a party.

Fiona spotted me and raised her voice for everyone to hear. "Oh my God! Gia, you're still wearing pink? Don't you think that looks awful on you? You seriously don't see how ridiculous you look?"

She was not done. "I'm sorry, I can't. This is killing me. What kind of princess looks like that? You look more like an old witch!"

She and a group of boys collapsed into laughter.

Sally seemed to find it funny too. The corner of his mouth twitched upward.

In that moment, a wave of helplessness and humiliation swallowed me whole. I felt the blood rush to my head, and my fists clenched at my sides.

With their laughter still ringing in my ears, I grabbed my glass and threw the drink right in her face.

Fiona froze, frantically wiping at her dripping face. She had done her makeup perfectly that night, and the water sent it streaking down her cheeks.

She sputtered and coughed. "What the hell? Are you insane?"

"Oh my God." I mimicked her tone. "With all that fake lash glue, foundation, lipstick, and whatever that eyeshadow is supposed to be, I'd say you're the one who looks like a clown."

I turned to leave, but a few of the boys stepped in to block my path.

Sally walked over and took the glass out of my hand. "Gia, apologize."

He looked down at me with furrowed brows and spoke in a cold voice.

My eyes burned as I stared back at him. "Did you not hear what she said to me? She called me an old witch."

"That's a separate issue. You already said your piece. Now you need to apologize for throwing a drink in her face.

"You made a mistake, so own it. Stop acting like a child." He said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Just apologize. Fiona won't hold it against you."

I let out a cold laugh. "Not a chance. The only way I'm apologizing to her is over her dead body."

Sally's eyes went wide, then he slapped me across the face.