“I heard her daddy blames her.”
Someone laughed.
Lily looked down.
Her father did blame her.
At least, that was what it felt like.
Tom Carter had not been the same since Margaret died.
He drank.
He disappeared.
And whenever he looked at Lily, she sometimes saw something in his eyes that frightened her.
Regret.
“You know,” Brandon continued, “if I were him, I'd probably drink too.”
Rosa appeared with Lily's pancakes.
She set the plate down.
“Here you go, sweetheart.”
Lily whispered, “Thank you.”
Rosa glanced toward Brandon.
Her jaw tightened.
But she said nothing.
Brandon stood.
He walked toward Lily.
His phone was recording.
“Say hello to my followers.”
Lily looked away.
“Why do you even bother coming out?” he asked.
Silence.
“You can't walk. You can't dance. You can't do anything normal.”
Lily's hands tightened.
“Why don't you stay home?”
Something inside her finally snapped.
“Because I have every right to be here.”
Brandon laughed.
“Oh, she speaks.”
His friends laughed too.
Then Brandon bumped the table.
Coffee spilled.
Lily reached for napkins.
Brandon grabbed her purse.
“Don't.”
He turned it upside down.
Everything fell onto the floor.
Her phone.
Her keys.
Her wallet.
And the envelope.
Brandon picked it up.
He opened it.
His eyes widened.
“Twelve hundred dollars?”
Lily's heart dropped.
“Give it back.”
He waved the money.
“What's this for?”
“A wheelchair.”
He laughed.
“A better wheelchair?”
“My wheelchair.”
“What's the difference?”
He opened his hand.
Bills fluttered across the floor.
Some landed beneath tables.
Others fell into spilled coffee.
One twenty-dollar bill landed beside Brandon's boot.
Lily leaned forward.
Her body instinctively tried to stand.
Her legs failed.
She crashed against the side of the table.
Brandon laughed.
“Oh my God!”
His friends were filming.
Lily struggled to pull herself upright.
“Look at you,” Brandon whispered.
Then he crouched beside her.
“You know what your problem is?”
Lily's eyes filled with tears.
“You think you matter.”
He pointed around the room.
“Nobody here cares.”
Lily looked around.
He was right.
Thirty-seven people were watching.
Nobody moved.
Nobody spoke.
A pastor sat three booths away.
A deputy sat at the counter.
Truckers stared at their plates.
A mother pulled her children closer.
Everyone watched.
Nobody helped.
Lily began collecting her money.
She crawled across the dirty floor.
Her shoulder screamed.
Her tears fell onto the bills.
Rosa finally crouched beside her.
“I'm sorry,” she whispered.
Lily shook her head.
“It's okay.”
But it wasn't.
Nothing about it was okay.
Then her phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
She almost ignored it.
Instead, she answered.
“Hello?”
A deep voice replied.
“Hello, little sister.”
Lily froze.
“Who is this?”
“Stay where you are.”
“What?”
“Don't leave the diner.”
His voice softened.
“Family is coming.”
Lily stared at the phone.
“I don't have family.”
A pause.
“Yes, you do.”
The call ended.
Then she heard it.
A rumble.
At first, distant.
Then louder.
The windows began to shake.
People stopped talking.
Brandon looked toward the door.
“What the hell is that?”
Another engine.
Then another.
And another.
Nineteen Harley-Davidsons rolled into the parking lot.