Page 50 of Fractured Fates

He scoffs. “Tell me, Blackwaters.”

“I don’t like the way it makes me feel. It’s eerie. It was used for something bad, wasn’t it?”

He nods but doesn’t tell me what and for once I wish I could read his mind like he can read mine.

“That takes skill, Blackwaters, and you clearly don’t have any.”

“And yet you’ve dragged me into your office because you seem to believe I have some kind of ability.”

“Do you?”

I slam shut my mouth.

He shrugs. “Have it your way.”

I step towards the door.

“But know that powers like that would be useful when you’re on the run. You should consider refining them.”

I spin to face him. “I thought I wouldn’t last five minutes on the run.”

“With powers like this you might last ten.”

I hover on my toes, for one long minute, considering his offer. But that smirk hovering on his lips tells me everything I need to know. He won’t help me. Not really. He’ll use it against me.

“Probably,” he agrees, “besides, it’s only a matter of time before I pilfer that secret from your mind, Blackwaters. You’ll end up telling me whether you want to or not.”

16

Spencer

I wakeup with a fucking cloud hanging over my head. I swear it’s freaking visible to everyone around me, because everyone, all the kids in the hall at breakfast, all my duel team mates, even Summer and the other cheerleaders, leave me the fuck alone.

They know the score. Piss me off – piss me off more than I already am – and live to face the consequences.

I eat my breakfast – scrambled eggs cooked just the way I like them – in silence and it’s only goddamn Tristan who’s brave enough to utter a word to me.

“What the hell’s got your panties all in a twist?” he asks, as he drops down on the seat next to mine and observes my tight jaw and thunderous brow.

“Fucking gym class,” I mutter, scooping up eggs with my fork and shoveling them into my mouth.

“Gym class? You live for fucking gym class, man. What’s the problem? Coach not licking his tongue far enough up your ass?”

I snort. “Coach has got me teaching defense moves to the new girl.”

Automatically, my eyes lift to the corner of the hall. The spot where the new girl hides during every meal. Tristan’s eyes follow mine and I swear something in his own face stiffens when his eyes land on her.

“And …”

“And it’s fucking dull. She doesn’t know what the hell she’s doing, and it means I’m missing out on all the fun.” And the one class I truly excel at. The one class in which I whip Tristan Kennedy’s butt every time.

Every. Single. Time.

It feels good to be better than him at something.

I know he hates it. That’s half the fun.

But now that stupid girl’s come along and ruined it all. I know I shouldn’t care. I know I should teach her the stupid moves and be done with it. But she irritates the hell out of me. Ever since that first day on the mats. It’s like she’s a rash, slowly spreading across my skin, becoming harder and harder to ignore. Plus more infuriatingly irritating. I swear every time I lay eyes on her my entire body itches.