by Katie May
Cue gagging noises.
Struck with inspiration, I remove my phone from where I had stashed it inside my bra and begin recording the two of them. You never know when you’ll need leverage to destroy a person’s life.
Almost as if he can sense me, his eyes begin to open…
But I’m already running out of the room, the door shutting on silent hinges.
Returning to my trusty little notebook, I write, Cassian in music practice rooms before class. Getting BJ. Big cock. With a frown, I quickly erase the last two words.
I hate the asshole, but even I can appreciate a damn good penis.
Lips pursed, I stare intently at the third name on the list. Elias Briggs. I don’t even bother searching for him. The school records show that he skips school every Monday, and even some Tuesdays, Wednesdays, Thursdays, and Fridays. And if he doesn’t skip, he doesn’t bother to show up until well after fourth period, AP Lit. Which, conveniently, happens to be my class as well. What are the odds?
Instead, I focus on the fourth name. The final name. Rage crawls up my spine like a set of fire ants have been set free.
Lucas Scott.
Glancing at the clock, I see it’s approximately seven-forty. At this time, he should be in the cafeteria with his faithful followers, right after the morning session of student senate ended. Elections for class positions took place at the end of last year, and lo and behold, Lucas Scott managed to snag the presidency. Shocker.
He’s exactly where I expect him to be—sitting beside a gaggle of girls and guys, a beatific smile on his handsome face.
His red hair is artfully styled away from his aristocratic face, making him appear even more heart-wrenchingly beautiful. His sea-blue eyes, flecked with gold, are vibrant with laughter. As always, he wears a pressed sweater and skin-tight jeans that conform to his delectable body. And by the smirk on his face, he knows how good he looks and revels in the attention.
Four kings.
Four wicked men.
Four charming devils.
And one witch.
“Let the games begin, boys,” I whisper. And this time around? I’m actually gonna win.
Or die trying.
Chapter 3
My first class of the day is Biology with Ms. Auperlee.
She’s a younger teacher with her soul still intact; these leeches haven’t sucked it out of her yet. When I enter the classroom, she flashes me a genuine smile, one that reaches her washed-out gray eyes. I’m sure they’re a shade of blue, but with the fluorescent lighting overhead, it’s almost impossible to discern for sure.
“You must be our new student,” she gushes in a saccharine sweet voice. “I’m Ms. Auperlee. We’re starting a new chapter today, so I don’t think you have anything you really need to catch up on. The first chapter is merely standard lab safety, which I can email you a PowerPoint of. You can take a seat anywhere.” She gesticulates wildly towards the various empty desks.
The old me would’ve been terrified of accidentally sitting in someone’s seat, but the new me doesn’t really give a damn. I’m no longer the coward that will hide behind my own shadow.
With an imperious set to my chin, like a queen looking down on her subjects, I move towards an empty seat near the back of the classroom.
Directly beside Mariabella Stevens.
This close, she’s even more beautiful. Almost ethereal. It’s no surprise that Karsyn would date someone like her, someone who seems to physically radiate vibrant light. Her blonde hair has been freshly washed after this morning’s workout, hanging in silky, loose curls around her shoulders. She wears a pink sweater that slides off of one shoulder, revealing her porcelain skin. Cognac brown eyes peer back at me beneath a fleet of sooty, ridiculously dark lashes.
I expect to see derision in her gaze, maybe even annoyance at my blatant ogling, but instead, she straightens almost imperceptibly in her seat and smiles at me. It’s a…warm smile, one that emanates sincerity. It somehow demotes her from intimidating to approachable.
At the same time, I can’t help but wonder why someone like her would date someone like Karsyn Alder.
Gag.
“Hi!” Her voice is slightly higher pitched than even Ms. Auperlee’s, but it doesn’t bother me. There’s almost a musical quality to it that I can’t help but find endearing. “You must be new. I’m Mariabella.”
“Peony,” I greet with a timid nod. I have the irresistible urge to bite down on my lower lip and fidget, almost like I’m back in middle school again. But fuck, I’m not that forlorn child anymore. I’m a badass fucking witch, and I don’t fidget.
But a part of me, a part that I don’t think will ever diminish completely, expects her to pour her coffee over my head and then laugh at me like it’s my fault.
“Why don’t you do the world a favor and drop dead?” Cassian’s voice curled around me like an iron vise, gradually tightening until I was clawing at my throat, desperate for air.
“What a loser,” Karsyn agreed with his customary smirk.
“A freak.” Lucas’s face was as impassive as ever, as cold as a marble statue. There was no inflection in his cruel words. “She’s nothing but a freak.”
“…excited to show you.” Mariabella’s babbling pulls me out of my dark thoughts. They continually threaten to drag me under, almost as if I’d gotten stuck in a riptide. Farther and farther away from shore I am pulled, and no amount of kicking and screaming and begging for air will release me.
“I believe you’re in my seat,” a voice from directly above me states. I whip my head up, startled, only to minutely relax when I see an unfamiliar, friendly face. For a moment there, I thought he was one of the guys. One of my tormentors. One of the monsters who lurk under my bed at night, gripping at my ankles with curved claws and jaundice eyes.
The guy slides into the seat beside me, maintaining that flirtatious, easy-going grin.
“I’m Emmett,” he introduces, extending a hand. I eye the proffered limb warily, half expecting this to be a trick. I’ll be the first to admit that I’m fucking paranoid. Everyone has an angle, and I’ll only survive if I figure out what that angle is ahead of time. So far, no one at school has recognized me, but that won’t last. Sooner or later, the vultures will descend on my disgusting corpse, pecking away at what little remains of me.
“Peony.” Relenting, I place my hand in his, surprised by how cold it is. Goosebumps pebble on my skin as I look at Emmett, really look at him, for the first time.
It’s easy to see that he’s a jock. Probably on the football team with Karsyn, judging by the letterman jacket covering his shoulders. He exudes a charm and charisma that most women find irresistible. Sandy blond hair, stylishly molded into a fauxhawk, frames a face that could make angels weep. When he smiles, I can’t help but notice the dimple on both of his cheeks. Laugh lines surround his jade eyes, almost the color I would associate with a magnificent jungle.
He really is a looker, and if the slightly smug glint in those gorgeous eyes is any indication, he knows it.
“That’s a flower, right?” Mariabella interjects.
“Yeah, how do you know?” Most people merely believe it’s a strange name my hippy mother picked out. Well, it is a strange name my mother picked out, but she’s no hippy. That title is reserved for my grandmother.
“I want to be a botanist, actually,” she confesses with a sheepish shrug. Almost nervously, she begins to twirl a piece of hair around her finger. “Plants and stuff.”
“We know what a botanist is, Mar,” Emmett jests dryly, and she sticks out her tongue at him.
One glance at the clock confirms we still have a few minutes until class begins. Already, the seats are three-quarters full, with more and more students trickling in. I don’t see any of the guys, but I didn’t expect to. I specifically made sure that my first couple of hours didn’t align with theirs. I figured I’d need a slight reprieve from my revenge, wouldn’t you agree?
“Where are you from?” Emmett fla
shes me another one of his irresistible smiles. He really is a good-looking boy…man. No one with working eyes would ever believe he’s a boy. It’s too bad that I refuse to date until I’m out of high school. Emmett would’ve been a fun distraction…but one that I can’t afford. I have one goal and one goal only—destroy the men who once destroyed me. Dating can wait.
“California,” I blurt after an awkward silence. “I just moved in with my grandma.”
“Oh, that’s super sweet of you,” Mariabella says, resting her elbow on the table and placing her head in her opened palm. “Does she need a lot of help around the house?”
She has three hunks to do it for her, but you know…I’m not complaining. One of those hunks cooks me food.
“Yes,” I answer instead.
“What do you think of this place so far?” Almost absently, Emmett drapes his arm over the back of my seat. The initial stab of panic I always feel when someone touches me rears its ugly head, but I shove it inside a reinforced-steel box.
Instead, I focus on Emmett’s question, only his question, until the panic abates like wispy strands of smoke. “I like it,” I confess, though that’s a complete and utter lie. I hate this school and everyone in it.
Half of these students saw what the guys were doing to me, but none of them stepped in. None of them helped.
Even Mariabella, as nice as she seems now, looked the other way when the Devils tormented me.
But I can’t focus on the turbulent anger wreaking havoc on my internal organs like a nose-diving plane. I have a plan, and I need to follow it to the T. “I’m a little sad, though, that I missed cheerleading tryouts.” I release a heavy sigh, dropping my head into my arms. “I cheered at my school in California, and I’m gonna miss the sport.”
Lie.
Complete and utter bullshit lie.
My school was actually a private school with no sports teams—unless you count FireBall, a game designed exclusively for witches.
Mariabella’s face lights up as if someone had lit a candle beneath her skin. Her brown eyes, outlined with fireworks of gold, sparkle in the artificial school lighting.
“I’m on the cheerleading team!” she blurts. “I can talk to Coach—”
“All right, class, settle down.” Auperlee waves her hands in the air erratically just as overhead, the bell begins to ring. “We have a lot to cover.”
The class immediately begins to quiet down, the usual whispers and grumbles all but diminishing, and I can’t help the grin that curls up my lips as I watch Mariabella out of the corner of my eye.
Hook.
Line.
And sinker.
Chapter 4
When class ends, I half expect Mariabella and Emmett to dismiss me like a child would after she wore down a new and shiny toy. Instead, the two surprise the ever-loving shit out of me by following me out of class.
“I have to go to algebra.” Mariabella points farther down the hall. “But come find me at lunch, okay?” Before I can respond, she gives me an awkward, one-armed hug—well, awkward for me anyway, because I’m not a hugger—and hurries in the opposite direction of me and Emmett.
“She’s…nice,” I muse softly as I reach into the side pocket of my backpack and remove the campus map. I can feel Emmett’s sandy blond hair tickling my cheek as he looms over my shoulder.
“She’s an energetic Golden Retriever puppy,” he snorts, but no ire laces his words. He sounds almost…fond of her. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t believe he’s desperately and hopelessly in love with her or anything, but I detect a strong sense of admiration and respect.
“And what does that make you?” I quip, easily keeping pace with him, despite his significantly longer legs. If I had to guess, I would say he’s a wide receiver on the football team. He’s lithe but muscular, nowhere near as large as Karsyn, but there’s no hiding the six-pack peeking through the gray shirt he wears beneath his letterman jacket.
“Oh…a Husky, maybe?” He laughs lightly, and more than a few girls turn in his direction at the sound.
“A husky.” Snorting, I stop at my locker and switch out my biology book for sheet music. It’s an instant relief not to have that book weighing me down. Because seriously, how many chapters on mitosis does the school district really think we’ll need? How many of us, years from now, are going to be grateful for knowing the lifespan of a cell? Honestly, schools should teach us how to do taxes and finance a house. “I’ve never heard someone claim to be a husky before.”
“Maybe you’re just not around the right kind of people,” he slyly responds, leaning against the locker and grinning down at me. This close, I can see flecks of golden caramel and agate green in his eyes. He really is an attractive specimen.
And he’s really making me reconsider my whole “no relationships while here” rule.
“So, you’re new here as well, correct?” I query as I slam my locker shut and zip up my backpack. Surprise splays across his face, and his eyes narrow almost suspiciously. I can’t help but snort at his paranoia. “Calm down. I’m not a stalker. I just went to school here when I was in middle school, and I don’t remember seeing you before.”
“Oh.” Emmett relaxes instantly and laughs once more, forking his fingers through his fauxhawk. The strands becoming wild and disheveled, no longer immaculately styled at the top of his head, and his eyes flash with irritation as he brushes at one of the strands grazing his eyes. “I moved two years ago, during sophomore year.”
“From?” I unfold my class schedule—from where I had placed it in my pocket—and see that I’m supposed to be on the second floor for my next hour. Emmett once more peers over my shoulder before gently grabbing my elbow and steering me in the opposite direction, towards the now emptying stairwell.
“Minnesota,” he responds.
“Why?” I continue my pestering as we climb the curving staircase. I don’t know if Emmett has his class up here as well, but I’m honestly grateful for the tour guide. There are so many hallways and so many levels, that I’m sure I’ll get lost in record time.
“You’re a nosey one, aren’t you?” He doesn’t sound upset about it, only amused. His jade eyes spark in the fluorescent lighting as we turn down a hallway with only a few students present. Not that I’m surprised. The music department always has significantly less classmates compared to, say, the athletic one.
“Sorry.” I shrug nonchalantly. “It’s a fatal flaw.”
“Nah, it’s fine.” He blows out a breath as his steps slow, hinting that we may be closer to my destination than I initially suspected. “My mom got remarried.”
“And you guys moved to be with him?” I guess.
This time, his laughter is harsh. Cold, even, like a keen icicle falling from a rooftop and impaling someone’s heart. “No. The bitch kicked me out.” Resentment underlies his words as his eyes harden. “Told me it was time to live with my dad.”
My heart hurts for him, because I, more than probably anyone, can relate.
“My mom kicked me out too,” I admit with a shrug. “But hey, it’s not the end of the world, right?”
Honestly, a part of me was grateful when my mom threw me out the door like yesterday’s trash. I knew I would be sent to Nana’s…and I also knew that I would return to the town that had once been my personal hell. Only this time, I won’t be the one burned by hell’s flames. I survived the inferno once before, and now, I’ll set the world aflame in the name of sweet, sweet revenge.
Totally fucked up logic? Yes.
Do I care? Nope.
“Yeah.” Emmett doesn’t sound so sure, but our conversation ceases when he stops in front of my next class. “Room two twenty-six.” He taps his knuckles to the wall adjacent to the door. “Maybe I’ll see you again later on today?”
Those wide eyes blink down at me, and against my better judgement—against the voice telling me not to get involved—I mutter, “Yeah, probably.”
Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.
But the beati
fic smile that erupts on Emmett’s face? The one that reveals two dimples on his cheeks? It makes my own hesitation and unease totally worth it.
Flashing him a tentative one of my own, I slip inside of the classroom just as the bell rings, signaling the beginning of class.
Ten pairs of eyes turn to stare at me with varying degrees of confusion and apprehension. Only one appears annoyed, her slate-brown eyes narrowed at me from where she sits with the two other violists.
“You must be Peony.” The teacher, a balding man with a protruding belly and a bowtie, hurries forward with a hand extended. “I’m Mr. Tucker, the orchestra conductor.”
“Hello.” I accept his hand with a soft smile.
“Come. Come.” He gestures towards one of the black chairs located near the conductor’s stand. “If I remember correctly, you mentioned that you needed to borrow an instrument for the time being, correct?”
“That’s correct,” I reply. Back at the coven, I had my own violin, an instrument I adored more than anything else. After a particularly brutal fight with my mother, the bitch snapped it over her knee, rendering it impossible to play. I vowed to myself that I would buy a new one…as soon as I came into any sort of money.
“There are some violins you can rent and bring home with you,” Mr. Tucker explains as he unlocks a cupboard and procures a black violin case. “But we can discuss those options at a later time. For now, feel free to use this one. You won’t be able to bring it home with you, which will impact your grade in the long run, but it should work for now.” The man is practically exuding energy, his eagerness almost palpable. It reminds me of the conversation with Emmett a few minutes earlier. If Mariabella is a Golden Retriever puppy, then this man is a full-grown one. I half expect to see his tail wagging back and forth as he hands me the instrument.
This violin has almost a reddish sheen, and when I pluck at the strings, I’m surprised by how in tune the instrument is, especially since the case itself has been collecting dust.
