The warning was still echoing in my mind as I turned to look when the cold, sticky liquid hit me.
It splashed across the front of my new cream sweater and my face, the shock of it stealing my breath. I blinked, liquid stinging my eyes. Citrus and vodka. A cocktail.
I wiped it from my eyes with the back of my hand, my vision clearing to reveal three girls standing in a semi-circle in front of me. Designer everything, from their sharp heels to their disdainful smirks.
"Oops," the one in the center said, her voice a simpering falsetto. She didn't look sorry at all. "We didn't see you there. We could have sworn it was just some trash someone left lying around."
I kept wiping my face. My heart was pounding, but not with fear. With a cold, clarifying fury. "Interesting," I said, my voice surprisingly steady. "You saw trash among all of this? Maybe you should get your eyes checked. Or your brains."
