Chapter 38
POPPY
The cold water did little to wash away the smell.
Not the smell of the trash.
The smell of humiliation.
I stood in front of the bathroom mirror, wiping another streak of something sticky from my cheek with a wet tissue. The fluorescent lights above reflected every little imperfection, every strand of hair that had escaped my ponytail, every smudge of mascara I'd spent fifteen minutes perfecting this morning.
Around me, the girls were doing the same.
Natasha was scrubbing ketchup from the sleeve of her blazer.
Maria kept muttering curses while trying to pull dried lettuce from her hair.
Minnie was spraying perfume like her life depended on it.
Anna was still complaining. "I genuinely don't understand her."
Maria scoffed. "What's there to understand? She did what
