Page 100 of Fractured Fates

Except there’sno way I can leave yet. If there is one thing this stupid academy has taught me, it’s that I don’t know as much about magic as I thought I did. If I have any chance of surviving out there on my own, with the Wolves of Night and the authorities chasing me, I need to keep my head down and learn as much as I can.

I know I have potential. I wasn’t bluffing back there in the locker room with Tristan Kennedy. I can feel this power sparking in my blood. I know it could be enough. If I could just learn how to use it, to unleash it, to bend it to my will.

So no more attempts at a social life, no more trips into the city, no more hanging out with friends. I’m spending every waking hour I can in the library and I’m going to concentrate like hell in every single one of my classes.

Starting with gym class.

On Monday morning, I arrive at the gymnasium early, taking my spot by the mats and waiting for Spencer. I ignore the snide comments the other students make as they filter past me. They’re especially vicious today, half the dueling team deciding to either leer at me or toss out innuendos. To my surprise though there’s nothing about the ham, about my special delivery or bad smells.

Perhaps whoever sent it hasn’t told their friends about it yet.

I ignore all their jibes, my jaw set, my shoulders stiff.

I reckon my determination is written all over my face because Spencer does a double take as he strolls towards the mats.

“I want you to stop fucking about and actually teach me,” I say folding my arms as he approaches.

“There’s no point. You’re so far behind everyone else, you’re never going to catch up.”

“I would if you actually taught me,” I snap in annoyance. “This stuff might actually save my neck one day, did you ever think of that? Did you consider that, by failing to help me, you’re putting my life at risk?”

He shrugs off his sweater, his vest lifting as he does, and flashing me a strip of toned abs. I avert my gaze. His abs aren’t just washboard, they’re marble.

“You expect me to believe you’re actually worried about that stuff?” he goads and I register for the first time that his mood is about as black as mine today.

I see him fooling around all the time, making all his little football pals roll around in laughter nearly every single day. And yet, whenever he’s here on the mat with me, it’s like he’s had a personality transplant. Like the school joker’s been replaced by the prince of darkness. I don’t understand why I get treated to this special side of him.

“Why?” I ask him, meeting his scowl with one of my own.

He darts towards me and I yelp, springing to one side, slipping out of his grip.

I’m not playing this time. I’m not going to let him toss me about like a sack of potatoes and teach me precisely zero.

He grunts and lurches for me a second time. I dodge him again, although this time his fingertips brush over my stomach causing unexplainable sparks to burst into life there.

I shake my head.

“Cut it out!” I yell. “Cut it out and teach me.”

“I am teaching you, Pig Girl, I’m teaching you just how fucking hopeless you are.”

He charges for me again, ducking his head like a bull that’s seen a red flag.

I spin and run. Like I said. Not playing.

But he doesn’t give up. He doesn’t halt like I expect. He keeps coming for me.

I pick up my heels and keep running. Our footfall catches the attention of the other students in the hall.

“Go Spencer,” I hear Summer call out, while others hoot and cheer.

His thundering steps seem to draw closer.

I huff out air, and drive my legs and arms harder.

He’s not going to catch me. No fucking way.

I don’t care about the rules. I don’t care about the lesson. I wasn’t learning anything anyway.