During the winter of her freshman year, Marley received her first black eye.
It wasn't supposed to turn out that way. They were standing in the kitchen — Marley wearing three layers of socks and curled up in her jacket because of the failing heater — and Bob Hoover had half his body in the fridge as he searched for a beer. She was standing behind him, a field trip form for Chemistry in her hands.
That signature ended up being the very last legitimate one she ever had, in the entirety of her high school career.
She had been bothering him about it, and he was refusing to sign to get to her. It was Sunday night, and the deadline was the next morning; Marley was desperate, and he had her exactly where he wanted her.
So he said no. And she tried to be calm, but something inside of her had a
