Her hair was pointing every which way, her cheeks were ruddy and her lips were pouted and wet. Her dress, her beautiful white lace tea-length dress, was ripped at the bodice, near the hips, and covered in mud.
Marianne stuttered a few times before managing to call out for Jimmy. She turned back to Mary. “Honey, what happened to your dress?”
Mary couldn’t hold her tears back and she began to sob, covering her face with her fists. She felt someone pry her hands away and she realized her father was kneeling in front of her a murderous look on his face. “Mary,” he said with a false calm, “you have to tell us why you’re crying.”
Mary hiccuped and shook her head. “You’re mad.”
“We’re not mad, are we Jimmy?” Marianne shot a pointed look at Jimmy who quickly shook his head and smoothed his features.
“I’m just worried about you, honey. Now tell us why you’re so upset.”
“I….I…” Mary struggled to catch her breath before answering. “I beat up Christopher Liddell.”