Page 151 of Twisted Ties

“Look what the cat dragged in,” she says, and I blink finding myself in the gardens outside Venus common room, right in the middle of what looks like a victory party. Music thumps, paper streamers hang limply from the trees and the air smells of weed and alcohol.

I reach for my aunt’s necklace. But I don’t know how to use it and there are already dozens of pairs of eyes observing me like I’m a fresh meal to be devoured. That or tortured.

The people around me are swaying and grinding to the music. The dueling team have lost their shirts, their ripped chests gleaming with sweat in the light from the lanterns, and half-dressed cheerleaders paw over them.

Summer steps in front of me blocking my path. She’s dressed only in her cheerleading skirt and her bra and a massive love bite marks her neck.

Actually maybe this isn’t a party. Maybe it’s a freaking orgy. I can see one girl down on her knees with some jock’s dick in her mouth. And another dude has a girl pressed up against the trunk of a tree, his hand up her skirt.

“You’re NOT invited to this party, piggie,” Summer says. “Nobody’s keen to catch something off you. Especially as you’re riddled with the were-infection now as well as all those swine STDs.”

I take a step backwards. I’m absolutely fine with that. I don’t want to be here. But the dancers have moved in behind me and I’m trapped. I spin around, colliding immediately with the hard body of Spencer Moreau. He’s clutching the Cross-lantic trophy in his hand, a girl hovers at his side, and there’s a second girl hovering behind him.

His eyes alight on mine.

“You weren’t at the match,” he growls.

“No,” I say, “I don’t like fighting.”

The girls around him laugh like I’ve made the most hilarious joke.

“You should have been there anyway. Everyone else was there showing their support, cheering on our team.”

“I don’t remember hearing it was compulsory.”

“It is. Everybody knows it.” He shakes the second girl off his shoulder as she reaches out to touch him, and leans forward. “What’s wrong? You think this school isn’t good enough for you, little pig?”

I’m not interested in his bullshit. I’m not going to play his games and beg for forgiveness, because that is clearly what he wants.

“Oh sorry, did I hurt your feelings? Are you upset I wasn’t there worshiping at the Spencer Moreau shrine?”

I smile at him, but it’s quickly wiped away as a hand pulls at my hair, forcing me backwards. I scream, hands flying to my scalp and look up through tears into Summer’s face. She leans down towards me and, as if these people can smell a fight brewing, heads snap our way.

“You have no fucking respect, Pig. For this school, or for us. Maybe it’s about time we taught you a bit of school spirit.”

“Let me go,” I hiss at her, my eyes smarting with tears.

“No, not until you learn some manners.”

“I’m warning you, Summer,” I say, raising my hand towards her. I’ve been wanting to blast this bitch since the day I met her and this seems like the perfect opportunity.

“Are you? How cute. Go ahead, Pig. I’d like nothing more than for you to use your magic on me, because then you’ll be out of here faster than I will be able to smile. Expelled. We all want you gone. You pollute the fucking air.”

I scowl at her, lowering my hand. She’s not bluffing and there are at least fifty witnesses here. She tugs sharply onmy hair, making me yelp. I pull on her hand, trying to shake her off, but her grip only tightens.

“Now, how shall we start?” she says. “Maybe by worshiping at the feet of Spencer Moreau. He just won us the cup. He just took out more of the opposition than any player has ever done for this school. You should be grateful. You should be honored to be in his presence.” She grins at me with a wicked wildness in her eyes. The girl really is a bitch. “Down on your knees.”

“No!”

We tussle on the grass; Summer trying to drag me down, me refusing to let her. The people around us leer at me, some hissing, “Knees.”

I peer up at Spencer. His face is blank, devoid of all emotion as he watches us both.

“Aysha, Chloe!” Summer screams in frustration. Several of the girls from the cheerleading team step towards us, but Spencer holds out his hand to stop them.

“Fight your own battles, Summer,” he says quietly, meeting my eyes, his eyebrow twerking over so slightly as if he’s saying, “What you waiting for? Fight.”

Summer scowls at him, then shakes my head, the pain in my scalp making me gasp.