Chapter 15

Scarlett’s POV

After running away like a hysterical lunatic, I kept thinking about her eyes as she watched my reaction, about how her lips moved and I couldn’t hear a word. I kept thinking that she couldn’t understand me, perhaps someone with money didn’t go through things like that—every day, simple things.

I ran my hands over my face and collapsed onto the bed in despair. Had I done something wrong? Had I been wrong to yell at her? The girl’s number who spoke to me on the street was still on the table; I hadn’t touched it, hadn’t even dared to write to her. Olive has spent the entire day with Francis; we haven’t been able to talk, and I want to tell her what happened.

Everything fell apart for me when he said those words. “You’re acting like a child.” It hasn’t left my mind; I haven’t been able to shake that memory.

When I was twelve, my parents took me to a camp; they wanted me to make friends. I stayed there, playing with stones, and someone appr