Page 67 of Satan's Spawn

Nothing may come of it. Or Crayton could be looking at an arrest. I can’t have that happen, not until I understand what his problem is with me. And more importantly— whatmydeal is with him.

I don’t allow my conscience to step in before saying, “It’s nothing. Just a scratch.”

“That does not look like a scratch,” she insists.

“I have to agree,” says Beaumont, “although I don’t think it’ll require stitches, it’s still too deep for finger nails.”

Saint is quiet, the both of us sharing a look only we can interpret, and the begging in his eyes tells me he’s hoping I continue covering for his friend.

“Did somebody do this to you, Miss Dawson?” The headmaster continues his interrogation.

Hendrix folds her arms over her chest, already assuming the perpetrator, and Saint looks even more nervous.

He doesn’t have to be, though.

My mind’s made up.

“Yeah, someone did.” I giggle, pointing to myself. “Me. It’s why I took so long in the bathroom.”

Beaumont doesn’t seem pleased with my response, but he accepts it, probably because he was heading over here to give me shit about Gibson’s class. “Please head straight to the nurse and have her properly clean and bandage it.”

“Will do, sir.” I nod, and Beaumont turns to stroll off as quick as his old legs will allow.

I can sense so many emotions between the three of us. Judgment coming from Hendrix, relief from Saint, apprehension from me.

I don’t care about any of it, though.

I stand by what I did.

I don’t want the headmaster, the cops, or even Mr. Shaw getting involved asking questions about us.

The only person I want Crayton to answer to isme.

14

CRAYTON

The opportunity to catch Rebecca again presented itself around six hours later after I got back to the school, and the majority of the Riverside kids were either in their dorms or off to their extracurriculars.

I spotted her on the track field, slowing to a stop drenched in sweat, wearing a tank top and spandex shorts so tight they would reassure any asshole with a cock that it’s still kicking.

I did my best to ignore the way her skin glistened, watching from underneath the bleachers as she bent over, stretching those toned legs, oblivious to the eyes trained on her ass from the majority of the football team.

Including that asshole Felix who was salivating like a dog out in the heat.

It’s this exact reason I decided against making myself known with another public display of aggression. Not wanting to offer any more of a peep show these assholes were already taking advantage of with my absence.

One that’ll earn them each a tip off to their coach about steroid usage from an anonymous concerned student.

I followed Rebecca off the field as soon as she finished, back to the dorms, all the way to the fourth floor, where of course she insisted on taking the steps.

Always the over achiever.

At one point she started walking the floors as if they would swallow her whole any minute, and a part of me wondered if it was because she could sense my presence.

Watching her. Avoiding her. Following her every move.

I trailed behind slowly like a murderous lion to a gazelle, not easing up until she found safety behind the door of her room. I stuck around long enough to hear her roommate bitching her out for not turning me in about the little scratch on her neck.