Page 29 of Vicious Little Snakes

Each time the nurse would come into the room, I was scared she was going to take the basket to the other room and give Paul his choice of a sticker since he wouldn’t stop crying about his fucking bloody nose. But she never did, and the sticker sat there, all alone, in a basket full of yellow stars.

It’s weird but I kind of felt bad for it. I wondered if anyone had ever stuck their hand in the plastic basket and ignored it, opting for a star. It seemed dumb to me that nobody picked it because it was special—different, a completely unique sticker in a basket full of stars. So I shoved it in my pocket when nobody was looking.

I’ve never stolen anything. Ever. I have everything I’ve ever wanted. No need.

But even as I think it, I lift my eyes, and Caroline Whitmore is staring straight at me. Everything she’s thinking written all over her face.

Like a Care Bear in a room full of stars.

Caroline

Thank fucking God it’s Thursday. One more day, and I can stop looking over my shoulder every three seconds. Monday’s run-in with Liam set the bar for the week—really fucking low, and yet, it hasn’t gotten any better.

I’ve done nothing but avoid him in the hall, the cafeteria, and even this shared class, but today I’m stuck. One day pretending to be sick and skip was doable, two manageable, three’s pushing it. Four—forget it.

So here I sit, in World Econ, like a bundle of nerves, constantly checking the door for those hazel James Dean-y eyes to drift in.

I don’t know why I’m worried, though. Liam hasn’t so much as looked in my direction. Whatever happened on Monday after he touched my hand felt as if bricks were stacked, creating a concrete wall between us. I hate it because that’s not the Liam I know.

A high-pitched whine interrupts my thoughts.

“Miss Whitmore, could you tell us what CAGE stands for?”

Yeah, the thing I’m trapped in, unable to escape Liam Brooks.

“Yes,” I answer. “It stands for culture, administration, um…” my words trail off as I notice Kai waving at me through the pane in the door. I shake my head, pulling my eyes back to the teacher’s back.

What was I saying? Shit.

“Sorry, it stands for culture, administration, geography—”

My focus wains again because Kai’s pointing to the screen on his phone, tapping it over and over. For fuck’s sake.

A loud tap of Mrs. Pearson’s hand on the desk pulls my attention, just as she looks toward the window. But it’s empty. A laugh escapes my lips, so I press them together, hoping to seem clueless. But picturing Kai ducked under the glass is making me do a poor job of hiding my smile.

Her attention turns back to me. “What’s funny, Miss Whitmore? Your inability to answer the question? Because I’m not laughing. Maybe if you’d been here the last few days instead of in the nurse’s office, this question wouldn’t be so difficult for you.”

Settle down.

“Culture, administration, geography, and economics.”

“Thank you,” she huffs, turning around back to the board to write my answer.

Kai’s head comes back into the frame, smirking at me before he dramatically wipes his forehead likephew.

“Stop,” I mouth.

The teacher instructs everyone to open to page 114 as I shoo Kai, but he points at me and acts like he’s going to strangle me, which has me catching myself again so that I don’t laugh. He’s so dramatic and cute.

Kai lifts his cell again, glaring at me, and I scowl but lean down to my Louis, rifling through until I find my phone. Swiping my screen, I glance up to make sure I’m not going to get caught, then read.

KG:GET OUT HERE. NOW. We’re ditching.

KG:Don’t say no, or I will come in there and get you.

KG:I MEAN IT, GORGEOUS. This is NON-NEGOTIABLE.

I sit up, tucking my phone into my lap, and type back a message as incognito as I can.