Page 51

Face palm, Madison.
Five o’clock shadow, plaid shirts, nicely fitting jeans that show his butt. Mr. Barron is hot, so I instinctively blush under his glare. “Sorry, it really wasn’t my fault this time. There was traffic.” His stare stays glued on mine until I’m squirming in my spot. “It won’t happen again, sir.”
He nods. “Very well, take a seat.”
Did I mention the Irish accent? Someone splash me with cold water. I scramble back to my desk and pull out my notepad.
Ally turns in her seat toward me. “Hey, slut.”
The whole class starts laughing.
I narrow my eyes at her. “You say it like you know, Ally. Say, don’t you speak slut, too? Of course you do,” I answer for her, bored with her weak jabs.
She spins around toward me. “Bishop told me about how you scratch in bed.” She’s digging to hit a nerve, and besides the fact I’m pissed Bishop has talked to her about our little fling, I won’t give her the satisfaction of seeing it. Fuck her.
“Really?” I tease with a quirked eyebrow and a smirk. “So he told you just how sharp they are then?” My smirk deepens, and when she realizes what I’m implying, her mouth snaps shut.
“Still a slut.”
“Still don’t care.”
The bell finally rings for the next period and I scramble out of my chair, pushing through the crowds before making my way to my next class. Please, please let this day go fast.
This day is not going fast. I drop my tray onto the lunch table just as Tatum dances over with Carter and… I forgot his name already… on her tail.
“Hey, sugar! You don’t look so hot.”
“Thanks, Tatum,” I mutter, dropping down onto the seat. Carter slips in next to me, and I try my hardest to ignore Nate and Bishop in the corner.
“She always looks hot. What are you talking about?” Carter scolds Tatum.
“Please stop.” I massage my temples slowly, taking in deep breaths. “I literally don’t know how I’m going to make it past this day, let alone tonight. I feel like Ally sucks the life out of me, and I’ve had her in all three of my morning classes.” I yank open the lid to my yogurt, tossing it onto my tray. “She’s fucking—”
“Not worth your energy,” Carter finishes, taking the yogurt from me. He laughs. “Calm down or you’re going to get this all over your clothes.”
I can’t help it anymore; my attempting to not look toward Bishop and Nate fails me on epic portions, because I fucking look. Only, they’re not looking at me. Nate has a new girl on his lap, and Bishop has gone back to his stone-cold self, not acknowledging anyone else’s existence. Huh. I thought I’d be pleased, but because of Nate’s icy-cold shoulder he threw at me this morning, I don’t know. I’ve somehow grown accustomed to them watching me, whether it’s creepy, annoying, or not.
“Thanks,” I say to Carter, dragging my eyes from the group of them.
“So what time will you get out tonight?” He swings his leg over his chair so he’s sitting on it backward.
“I’ve just got a couple things to do, but I should be there around midnight. I’ll text you guys when I’m on my way.”
He looks like he’s mulling over my idea, but then nods. “Yeah, okay. We’re going out after school so I will set up your girls’ tent.”
“Mmm!” Tatum wiggles on her chair. “Can you put us in the best spot?”
“What? Tatum, it’s literally in the middle of the forest. There’re a few flat areas where we set up, but it’s black. There are no best areas.” Carter chuckles.
Tatum pauses. “Wait, I thought it would like, have a lake or something pretty?”
He laughs. “No. This is a Halloween party camp out. There are no pretty things.”
I giggle when I see Tatum’s face fall.
“But I bought heels.” She pouts.
Carter laughs again. “Take them back, baby girl. You won’t be needing those.”
Her lip trembles, before she takes a bite out of her apple. “I guess Harley Quinn could wear Chucks.”
Someone find this girl her puddin’.
THE FINAL BELL RINGS AND I nervously pull out my phone from my pocket, sliding it open. I’m sick of not knowing what the hell is going on with Nate, so I send him a text.
Me – What’s going on with you?
Shoving my phone back into my pocket, I head toward the library. Flopping down onto the sofa, with The Book in one hand, I look down at my phone again. Zero new messages. Frustrated, I open a new message and type one to Bishop.
Me – Is Nate with you?
Sighing, and a little more agitated than usual, I shove my phone away and flip open to the next excerpt.
3.
The Ritual
Flames danced around the pitch-black night of nothingness like bright flickers of warmth, tormenting the sky like it had been waiting for me. For my son. Licking over my skin in faded hope, because I’ve come to realize… this was false hope for me. But I hoped someone somewhere would find my words one day, not for solace, and not for understanding.