Page 122 of Twisted Ties

“Will lead to a lifetime of misery. Say the same stupid magazine with articles about how to make your pussy look baby-face smooth. And how to bake the perfect cake for your man. They’re pushing an agenda.”

I need to get my hands on the real literature. The books that Stone has been studying in his office. The books I need to quiz him about.

Winnie doesn’t look very sure, but she doesn’t push me on it. Instead, she tells me about her own encounter with the principal.

“I didn’t think I stood a chance. But it turns out my grandma can be a very formidable woman. The principal didn’t even try to argue with her or question my story.”

“So we’re both off the hook.”

“Yeah, it seems that way for now.”

38

Rhi

Expulsion may have beenthe preferable outcome. Because the next day we arrive in the hall for breakfast and it seems the entire school has heard about the werebeast attacking me. Everybody avoids me like the plague. Taking two steps away from me as I collect my breakfast and go sit at our usual table. Even Trent keeps his distance although at least he talks to me for Winnie’s benefit.

“Summer’s telling everyone the werebeast bit you and that the school is covering it up. She’s saying it went for you because you …” Trent scratches the back of his neck, “smell like pig shit.”

“Delightful,” I mutter.

“The werebeast didn’t bite her and both Matron and Professor Stone have treated her and checked her over. She’s not infected.”

I nod profusely, although all this talk is making me a little nervous. Did Stone’s magic definitely one hundred percent work? I hope so.

“Yeah, I know Summer’s a bitch and everyone knows she’s lying, but I guess everyone is on edge too after that attack. Everybody’s scared. How the hell did a werebeast get on campus?”

When Trent leaves us, I lean over to whisper to Winnie.

“Was anyone else attacked by the werebeast?”

“No, just lucky old you.”

“Hmmm,” I say, attempting to swallow a mouthful of lumpy porridge. “I thought maybe Tristan and Spencer had been too.”

“Why?” Winnie says, dragging her spoon through the gray gloop.

“I saw them both – Tristan later that night and Spencer Sunday morning. They both looked pretty beaten up.”

“Oh,” Winnie says, giving up on the porridge and dropping her spoon into the bowl. She leans in a little closer. “Rumor has it most of the cool kids head down to some illegal dueling club in the outskirts of the city most weekends.”

“Illegal? In what way?”

“Let’s just say, the dueling is pretty unrestricted and there aren’t the usual rules that stop folks from seriously hurting one another. That’s what I’ve heard, anyway. It’s not like I’ve ever been.” She shrugs. “I bet that’s why the two of them were looking beat up. Although, it’s pretty stupid so close to their biggest match of the year.”

“They are pretty stupid though, aren’t they?” I hiss. “I mean, who would want to fight just for the sake of it?” I shake my head, my gaze floating to the two of them sitting at their usual table in the hall. They’re looking less beaten upthan they did, although I have to say, neither is looking like their usual healthy selves.

I’m not convinced by Winnie’s explanation, though. I think of those unhealed gashes, those bruises. Tristan Kennedy, especially, has a permanently flawless face. Any hair out of place has been specifically crafted that way. There’s no way he wouldn’t heal his face if he could. It would hurt his pride and his massive ego far too much.

I shake my head again.

“So it was just me who was attacked.”

“Just you.”

“Maybe I’m super paranoid, but it did feel personal.” I remember the beast’s words. “It was as if it was coming for me.”

“Then maybe it was another assassin sent from the Wolves of Night.”