Clouds In My Coffee by Andrea Smith Page A

And, quite frankly, it’s getting on my nerves heavy duty. The only people that miss more school than he is are the losers that spend all day blowing the bag.
    I know that’s not what he’s doing, but he’s so closed off with me and has been since Christmas. His dad’s been in his shit about getting a part-time job and I know that he has been spending part of his day doing that, but the rest of it is spent with the older dudes in his band, jamming and getting high.
    And honestly, that’s starting to be an issue with me.
    I pull my VW bug into my parking space, getting ready to get out and head inside when I hear a horn blast behind me. Checking my rearview mirror I see it’s Marshall in his Z28, parked long-side behind me.
    Lovely.
    What the hell does he want?
    Checking again in my mirror, I see that Erik’s car isn’t home either. I doubt Marshall would’ve had enough balls to pull up and block me in if he’d seen Erik’s car.
    I’m determined not to let the S.O.B. intimidate me.
    I get out, heading to my door, when he blasts his horn again. “Hey you,” he calls out. “You just gonna ignore me like that?”
    “I’m trying to,” I call out, not looking back.
    “Oh come on, Cece,” he pleads, “Can’t we let bygones be bygones?”
    I finally turn to him. “What is it that you want, Marshall?”
    “I just want to apologize if you’ll give me a second here. I’m long over-do, and I know it.”
    I take a couple of steps closer to his car, not wanting the entire neighborhood to hear the half-ass apology I suspect he’s ready to give.
    “Cece, I am so sorry,” he continues, his face a mask of sincerity. “I was pretty fucked-up and what I did to you was very fucked up. I was out of line, and I didn’t show you the respect that I should have. I hope you will find it in your heart to forgive me.”
    I get closer, looking down at his face that, for all intents and purposes, looks contrite and apologetic. Yet, I don’t believe him.
    “Why now?” I ask.
    He pauses for effect. “Because if nothing else, losing Angie the way we did should teach all of us that life is too short to hold grudges or deny forgiveness.”
    Oh, I see. Suddenly, I’m the bad guy if I don’t forgive the jerk?
    “Let me ask you this, Marshall, did Angie forgive you for what you did to her?”
    A frown crosses his face. “I’m not following you.”
    Maybe I needed to mellow out and not stir the pot.
    Maybe not.
    “I mean, that she told Erik about you raping her.”
    His face darkens noticeably and he’s suddenly morphing from contrite to furious. “I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about. I can’t defend a lie. I’m just here to apologize.”
    The wind blows my hair, and it’s colder than shit out and I don’t want to waste any more body heat on this num-nut. I take my fingers and pull my hair from my face and I can tell when his eyes make contact with my Christmas present from Erik.
    “What’s this?” he asks, reaching an arm out and capturing my hand. “Some sort of trailer trash pre-engagement ring?”
    I pull my hand from his grasp and shove it into my pocket. “Fuck off,” I say, getting ready to turn from him.
    “Just tell me this, Cece, have you let him ball you yet?”
    I’m livid as hell. “Just tell me this, Marshall, are you the person Angie was talking to on the phone the day she was murdered?”
    Why in the hell I used the word murdered totally escapes me. It just came out—like out of nowhere . But, it hit a raw nerve with Marshall. I can tell that instantaneously.
    “You better watch your mouth, bitch,” he sneers, his eyes flashing pure hatred. “Talk like that isn’t healthy. I have a reputation and no cunt like you is going to ruin it.”
    I’m not about to act frightened. “Just leave. My boyfriend is due home any minute unless you want to stick around so that he can wipe the ground up with your sorry ass again,” I say with more courage than what I’m feeling because