Page 119 of Satan's Spawn

Must be nice to not have to abide by any rules.

We share first period together–one small show of mercy from the universe–so I at least have the option to ride my excuse on the coattails of the star quarterback no teacher dares to question.

As I race down the halls, I try to ignore the banners and decorations aligning most of them in preparation for homecoming week.

It’ll be one party, one rally, one guest speaker after another every freaking day, but I stick with my decision to miss the homecoming game even though Saint is sour about it.

Especially since Hendrix is going with Archer and joining the after party.

Not me, though.

It’s bad enough they have me going to this dance on Friday. That’s already pushing it, so neither of them are really giving me shit for staying in.

Walking into the classroom goes as planned, our history teacher Mrs. Fairly barely blinks our way as I stick side by side with the Golden Boy.

“What the hell took you so long?” Hendrix whispers as I settle into my seat.

“Traffic was bad today,” I say back, pulling out my books.

“I was about to call out a search party to find your remains.”

Rolling my eyes I continue rummaging through my bag, placing all of my green history supplies neatly on top of the desk.

Green pen, green notebook, green covered textbook.

It may be ridiculous for some—by some I mean Hendrix—but color coordinating each of my supplies with specific classes makes me happy.

And I need all the happiness I can get in this place.

“He’s actually pretty cool, you know,” I mumble back to her, “I think he may even have a thing for you.”

A scoff follows that revelation.

“You really aren’t from around here…” I can sense the shake of Hendrix’s head without even turning mine.

I freeze. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Boys like that don’t like girls like me, Bex.”

“Girls like what?” I bounce back through a whisper.

“Who’s body mass index comes with a side order of french fries.”

Her comment makes me angry for so many reasons.

One, my only female friend in this school has obviously gone insane.

Two, I would kill to have curves like Hendrix.

Voluptuous thighs and a thick sexy waist.

I’ve tried everything to gain weight, but thanks to the meds I’ve been taking for years, it’s incredibly difficult.

Three, there’s the fact she’s absolutely stunning in all her chic blunt bangs and cheeky attitude.

Confidence.

Most of the things I lack.