"Do I absolutely have to?" Abby moans, walking beside me.

"No, you don't," I reply for the millionth time. "But it will surely make things easier for me at home if you meet my dad and show him you're not the monster Rude told him you are."

That about sums it up. That's what we're doing as we walk across the square to Sad Aloha, because the war of the outcast is kind of over, and now Abby can go outside like any other normal girl. Same applies for Newt. A week after his first day back to school, he's no longer afraid to walk out the door, even if he still checks on both sides before stepping out. Old habits die hard.

In other good news, I can walk again at normal speed now. My rib kind of complains sometimes, but it's a lot more manageable.

"Should I let him see the scar or not?"

"It's fine either way," I tell her. She's been keeping her hair up at all times lately, so I don't get why she is so uncomfortable with it now. "I thought you said you weren't ashamed of it."

"And I'm not," she says, giving me a side glance. "I just don't want your father of all people to freak out."

"Why?"

She gives me an annoyed look. "There's a thin line between being adorably slow and being a perpetual turtle, John."

I give her an eye-roll. "I don't even know what you're talking about."

Meaning I do, but I don't want to.

"Do you really want me to say it, you big idiot?!" she asks me, punching my arm as we cross the street. We're now in front of Sad Aloha. "You're supposed to get the hint, you know?"

"Come on. In the twenty-first century?" I give her my best grin, and she frowns. "Wouldn't have thought you'd be old-fashioned like that, Scar. Not in a million years."

She purses her lips and narrows her eyes. "You're going to pay for that," she says, clinging to my arm as we reach the glass door. I can see Dad inside, and he's already wearing that smug smile. I'm gonna pay for this, all right.

"What are you even doing?"

"Being a twenty-first century girl, what else?" She pushes the door open and pulls me to the counter.

Dad laughs the same way he used to when he was with Uncle Owen; the maniacal, hyena-like kind of laughter that filled entire rooms. "Well, now this here shows me who's the one in charge."

Abigail produces a smile so wide and sweet she almost makes me barf. "Good day, Mr. Foster."

"I gather you must be the Ms. Scarborough I heard so much about," Dad replies with a smile, but even though Scar doesn't know him, I do. He's itchy to make her look like the bad one.

"Please. Call me Abigail. Did John tell you about me?" she replies, keeping the sweet-girl act, oblivious of the storm coming her way. She turns to me. "That is so sweet of you."

"Actually he avoided all questions about you," Dad replies, raising his voice ever so slightly. He leans on the counter, facing her directly. "But, excuse my manners. Please, have a seat. Would you like a drink?"

"Whiskey on the rocks, please. Double," she says, widening her already big smile. Dad looks at her, waiting for the punchline to her lame joke. "Coffee is fine."

"Coffee it is, then. You too, Champ?"

"Uh, sure."

Abby and I sit at the stools by the counter, and Dad pours us some coffee. Abby adds a stick of sugar and stirs slowly, and then her smile disappears. "Mr. Foster. With all due respect, you look like a very nice man, and I can see exactly why your son is so goddamned handsome, but you're a terrible liar."

"I second that," I say, adding two sticks of sugar to my own cup. "Just ask her what you want to know."

"I know what he wants to know, John," she says, and takes a sip of coffee before continuing. "Oh goodness. Good coffee in Maple Heights. I'll be damned." Then she turns to Dad. Their eyes lock for a while. "Yes, I did it."

"You did what, exactly?"

Abigail exhales in frustration as she looks around. Aloha is deserted except for us, so she just looks back at Dad before dropping the bomb, with a worse word choice than last week with Eugene. "I stabbed Amanda Riggs. I got her to the right of her bellybutton, and if the rumors are true, she lost an ovary because of it. There's no sugar-coating it. What you heard is true. I did it."

Neither Dad nor I were expecting this. Not only she went straight for the truth (and, let's not forget, a truth I didn't know!), she added unnecessary details to make it all more visual. I take a very slow sip of my coffee to avoid Dad's eyes, which are most likely wanting to murder me.

Do I have to say how much of a disaster this is?

"I appreciate your honesty," Dad finally says, and for whatever reason, his tone softened to his usual, friendly one.

"Not going to lie, Mr. Foster. You're the first person ever to say that."

Dad's smile dims down into a wry one. "I did hear Rude's version of the story. I think it's only fair to extend the same courtesy to you."

About time I hear Abby's version of what happened that day. I'm tempted to turn to her, but I fear she'll lose momentum if I'm directly looking at her, so I keep looking forward, counting the bottles of booze on the shelves behind Dad.

"Doesn't mean you'll believe a word I say," she says, kicking dirt on her own arguments before starting.

"Well, not with that attitude, no," I say, momentarily siding with Dad, hoping to finally get her side of the story. Dad gives me a questioning look.

"Like I told you the other day, things are never black or white, John," Abigail replies, and takes a long sip of her coffee. She turns to Dad again. "But that doesn't mean that people in general won't look at things with such mentality. From what I gather so far, I'm being judged as the bad one ever since I walked in, even behind that sweet smile of yours. And I've learned not to speak to people who clearly have a huge 'no' plastered to their foreheads. That's a mountain I won't try climbing again. I'm fine with you thinking I'm just the crazy chick with the scar, like pretty much everyone else does except for my own father and John."

Dad chuckles lightly. "You're not wrong, Abigail. Things aren't indeed black or white, and I'm certainly wary of your presence around my son. I'm also sure you'd understand my reasoning for that after the things I heard about you, which you're not willing to counter with your own version of the story."

"I don't mind telling you my story, Mr. Foster. But only if you're willing to listen to what I have to say. And even then, I hold no hopes of you accepting me afterwards."

"Is it that bad?"

"I'll say it again; nothing is ever black or white," Abigail replies, taking one last sip of coffee before pushing the cup towards Dad. "It's no different for me. Not only had I done bad things to Rude and Amanda. I also started the fight with them."

Dad takes her mug and quickly washes it. Then turns to us again, and idly wipes the counter. Then he drags a stool for himself, and sits on his side of the counter, facing us. "I'm listening."

"Williams Riggs was sent by The Fist to execute my mother."

Dad raises a hand to stop her. "Before you continue, I want you to bear in mind that Willy was my personal friend back in our teens, and while we certainly did all sorts of crazy stuff, he was in no way a murderer."

I expect Abby to shut down and stop talking after this, but she examines my father's face and nods. "After he was trialed and found guilty, I took it against his children, who back then were my best friend and boyfriend."

I choke on my own saliva hearing this. Abigail was Rude's girlfriend! And Amanda's bestie? "I didn't know that!"

"John, dear." Abigail turns to me, resting her chin on her hand. Then she smiles. "When you go to bed tonight, think very hard and see how much do you really know about me."

Dad goes back to the topic. "Is that when your... incident with Amanda happened?"

"Oh, no. That's just how it all began," she replies, turning back to my dad. "It started with me breaking up with Rudolph, and lashing out on Amanda. A few brawls with her, and it was Rude jumping in to defend her. That's how his group started bullying me. People sided with them. I lost all of my friends." Abby touches my shoulder. "Corrine was one of them."

That explains why she went pale when Abby showed up at Newt's house last week, and why she doesn't speak at all when Abigail is around.

"And I became sad and lonely, and extremely angry at all of them. To be honest with myself, I still am," she continues, but then trails off for a second, looking away. "It wasn't pretty. Amanda was the weakest of them, and that's exactly where I aimed. I burned her school stuff, I dragged her through mud, broke her nose... you get the picture."

"And then Rude paid you back for it." I say, hoping to complete the puzzle.

"They all did." She takes a deep breath before elaborating. "Rudolph is your friend's son, so I won't tell you the things he and his friends did to me, even after I stopped aggravating them. Suffice to say that one day I had to walk back home in my underwear."

"I'm so sorry, Abigail," Dad says, softening his voice. I can tell he believes her story, and I'm glad for that. "This is definitely not what I heard from Rudolph."

"No dung," I reply, and both Dad and Abby give me a reprimanding look. I lift my hands apologetically, and decide to keep my mouth shut.

"Then I made even worse choices," Abigail announces, carrying on with her story. "Dad got me some pepper spray to defend myself, but I thought appropriate to leave it in my closet and carry around a knife instead. So one day, right after school, Amanda, Rude and the rest came at me, as they used to do. And I decided it would be the last time."

Yep. That checks out with Lyle's version of the story, more or less at least.

"I see," Dad replies, pouring Abigail another coffee. "I'm not okay with the outcome, but I can see now why you did what you did."

"But, wait," I have one more thing I want to know. "How did you get the scar?"

She gives me a sweet smile. "Retribution, John."

"Of course Rude wouldn't just let that one go," I protest, downing the remnants of my coffee.

"Then the adults finally got involved. My father, their mother, school faculty, even the police," she explains, to wrap up the story. "And ever since, we've had this unspoken truce where I don't interact with anyone, and they don't come at me anymore."

"Until that rumor," I add, cursing Potato under my breath. "The rumor being true aside, Rude didn't like me getting close with you."

Dad stands up, walks slowly to the booze shelves, and pours himself a drink. He swirls it around before downing it in one gulp, then examines the empty glass for a while, maybe processing the whole story Scar just told us. I glance at her, see if she's fine, but she's just pouring a sugar stick on her new coffee, not the least bothered by Dad's silence. Silence reigns supreme in Sad Aloha for a while.

Dad returns to his stool. "Okay. What can we do to help?"

Abby looks back at him and blinks a few times in confusion. "To help with what?"

"With this whole deal with Rudolph and his friends."

"It's been mostly sorted out," she tells him, and glances my way. "Didn't John tell you, Mr. Foster?"

"Please. Call me Thomas."

YES! Dad is team Abby now.

"Rude was sent to some military school in New Harland after the fight with John," she explains, because I didn't tell Dad any of this. "Though I'm not naïve enough to think he won't be back."

"I want to believe he won't be mad at me forever, you know?"

"You clearly don't know him."

"She's right, John," Dad says. "New Harland isn't that far away anyway. He could very well show up in Maple Heights any weekend. Neither of you should go around alone."

"First-hand experience?" I tease, and Dad smiles.

"You could say that."

"Well, we don't have to go by ourselves if a certain Dad isn't an ass and allows me to be friends with Abigail."

Dad laughs. "Looks like some Dad out there needs a beating, then?"

"A serious one!" I reply, and we all laugh. My phone vibrates in my pocket; I have a message from Newt.

Is this dung true?

Attached to his message, there's a screenshot from some internet forum. I notice it belongs to Maple Heights High. The message reads, "With Rude out of the way, next one to go will be Princess Amanda. Who's with me?" There's also an emoji of a thumbs-down. The message was written by Wonderful_Scar.

I look up at her, and she returns the gesture in confusion. I show her the message, and her brows shoot up.

"You don't really think I'd do something so stupid, do you? That's not even my account."

"I didn't even know the school had this thing."

"Nobody really uses it, except some teachers to leave homework and stuff. Don't you have an account?"

"I told you, I didn't even know this was a thing."

Another message from Newt, with a new picture. Wonderful_Scar's message had a reply. It reads, "Count me in," which was written by Foster44.

"Apparently, now you do."