Misinterpreting Fate (Book 2)

7. Injuries and Ice Cream

Chapter 7: Injuries and Ice Cream

Sam

I guess it was a good thing Poppa's restaurant wasn't too far away. Jaime and I walked there, rolling our bikes next to us the whole way. It would have been quicker to ride, but I didn't trust myself to control my bike very well, even if I could ride it with one hand normally. My hand hurt too much to even try.

Jaime and I brought our bikes to the back of the restaurant. I didn't realize until after we were already back here that it was a bad idea. Last time I was back here, I sucked Owen off. I guess he really was trying to get us caught, but I never realized that was what he was doing. I just thought he liked the suspense.

I hurried inside, wanting to forget about that night. The kitchen was bustling with people and filled with strong smells of whatever they were cooking. I looked around, trying to find Poppa, who was at the stove at the other end of the kitchen.

"Hey Sammy, Jaime," Linda, one of the waitresses said, walking by with a tray of dirty plates. "How've you two been?"

I shrugged. "Could be better."

She kept walking - I'm not even sure she heard my answer - and brought the plates to the sink. I didn't mind, heading straight for Poppa, doing my best to dodge everyone else. Jaime followed right behind me, both of us knowing this kitchen just a little too well.

"Sammy!" Poppa said with a smile when he caught sight of me. "And Jaime! I haven't seen you in a while. What brings you both by?"

I held up my hand, which had started turning black and blue already along the knuckles. "I did something stupid..."

"Jesus. Alex! Watch the stove!" Poppa then put his hand on my shoulder and turned me around, leading me over to the walk-in freezer. He went in and came out a second later, holding a bag of ice. "Put this on that."

The ice, while it felt good, also sent a stinging feeling through my hand. I hissed in pain as I added a bit more pressure. Why did I have to punch him? It so hurt so much.

"Come here," Poppa said, motioning for Jaime and I to head into the dining room. He then led us over to an empty booth in the corner and had us sit across from him. "What happened?"

"I, um..." I looked down at the table, suddenly finding the little crack in the wood very interesting. "I kinda punched Owen?"

"What?"

I snapped my head up. "Jaime hit him first!"

"Neither of you should be hitting anyone! Why were you even near him, Sam?"

I didn't have an actual answer. Not without explaining everything that happened with my friends today. I didn't want to recount all that right now.

Thankfully, Jaime had an answer. "We were riding our bikes in town and we saw him. Owen started saying some... really mean things to Sam."

Poppa's anger vanished. "Mean? What did he say?"

I bit my lip, not wanting to remember it. "He..." I took a deep breath. "He said he told you about my pictures because you... you trusted me too much and that I was... I was just a whore." My voice broke at the end of the sentence and a tear trailed down my cheek. "I'm sorry, Poppa. He was right. I am one. I shouldn't have hit him."

I clenched my eyes shut, trying to keep from crying. I didn't want to do that here, not with so many people around. I felt Jaime put her arms around me and I leaned into her hold.

"Don't ever say that, Sammy," Poppa said softly. "You're not a whore. You're not. Please don't think that."

I shook my head, keeping my eyes closed. How could it not be true? I slept with someone five years older than me who didn't even love me. I begged for his attention. I stuck his thing in my mouth in the back alley just so I could have five minutes of him to myself. How does that not make me one?

I must have tightened my fist unknowingly, because all of a sudden a burst of pain shot through my hand. I cried out, unable to help myself.

"I'm calling your father," Poppa said, pulling out his phone.

I shook my head. "No. You don't have to do that. I'm fine."

"You're not fine and he's going to take you to get that hand looked at." He lifted the phone to his ear. "Allen, can you leave work early? What? No. It's Sam. He's with me, but I think his hand's broken and I can't leave being short-staffed and all." He paused for a second. "Thanks. Yeah, me too. Bye." Lowering the phone, Poppa looked at me again. "He'll be here soon. Hang tight. I have to get back to the kitchen. Do you kids want anything? Ice cream?"

How could I say no to ice cream? Jaime and I both agreed and Poppa was soon placing two bowls of chocolate ice cream in front of us.

"You know," Jaime started, sticking a spoonful of ice cream in her mouth. "I love your poppa."

I smiled. "He's not that great."

"He literally just gave us free ice cream. And he really does care about you, Sam. I've known that for a while, but it's still really nice to see."

I shook my head. "He's mad at me, but it's decently busy in here, you're here, and I'm injured, so he can't exactly show it."

"If that was him mad, can we trade parents? If I even tried to do half the things you've done, I would honestly be dead. Or at least locked up in a tower like Rapunzel for the rest of my life."

I rolled my eyes. "That's not true." Okay, yeah sure, Jaime had strict parents, but that didn't mean mine were so amazing. They had their rules, just like all other parents. Sometimes I think they go too far overboard with the overprotectiveness - which is one of the main reasons I hid my relationship with Owen from them for so long.

"Do you think I'll still be able to draw?" I asked, the thought suddenly popping into my head. "If my hand is broken, it might heal weird. What if I can't draw anymore?"

Jaime laughed. "Quit worrying, Sam. You'll be fine. Whether or not it's broken, your dad's going to take you to get it looked at, which means it definitely won't heal weird. You'll be drawing again in no time."

I sighed, stirring my slightly melted ice cream with my spoon. I no longer felt like eating it. "I hope so."