Her nose is broken.” I feel my back hunch over. This is going to get leaked to the press. “Give us a minute to figure out where we can park,” the driver says. I’m shaking now, and taking purposeful breaths. I don’t feel bad for Gypsy Dress, though. She’s the one who slapped me. She grabbed me when I tried to walk away from her. I never would have touched her first. I was defending myself, pure and simple. “What else is hurt?” Mayra asks me. “My hand,” I say, balling it back up in a fist to show her the scrapes. Kaya’s phone is buzzing, and she presses green before saying, “Hello?” “Who is it?” I ask her, and she’s making a face. She really needs a bra. She might as well be naked. That T-shirt doesn’t hide much as it is. “She’s okay…it was a fight on the bus…with Kimber Smith,” she says, and it takes me a minute to remember that Gypsy Dress’ name is Kimber Smith.
