Page 9 of Wicked Little Darling

Assholes, the lot of them. The urge to stick my scarred-up face right in theirs was strong.

When wealth abounded, so did judgment.

Curiosity got the better of me—it usually did—and because I really didn’t have anything else to do, I followed him.

He was fast for such a short guy.

He wasn’t dressed for August in upstate New York; he had on a heavy moss-colored sweater and thin jeans that looked old, like he’d gone sifting through the bargain bin at his local thrift shop.

The clothes were too big and hung off his small frame, the sleeves of the sweater going well past his hands. For whatever reason, it bothered me and I wanted to roll them up. To see his hands.

Was he a student here? Did he play an instrument? Or was he an artist?

When he rounded the side of the Hoffman building, leaving the brick path for an unmarked dirt trail that went deep into the expansive woods limning the west side of campus, I picked up my pace.

Did he even know where he was going? What was he like? Shy? Introverted? Quiet? His appearance and mannerisms suggested those things, but he could very easily be an outgoing little brat. Or a scrappy fighter, like a yappy little dog or a ferocious tiger cub.

Probably the latter, based on that enormous black eye.

He had no idea I was following behind him as the trail headed deeper into the woods. Or if he did, he didn’t acknowledge me. The canopy of trees muted the intensity of the sun, and it was damp in here. The smell of dirt and plants filled my nose, and I loved it.

He reached the drooping sign held by a rusted, heavy chain tied between two trees that readDo Not Go Beyond This Point.

He read the words, made some kind of sound, then carefully ducked under the chain.

So. Not a follower of the rules.

Someone should tell him the sign was there for a reason.

I ducked under the chain and followed after him on the almost-hidden path. Thorns and shrubs had begun taking over, weeds springing wildly from the earth, reaching toward the little bit of sun that made it through the canopy.

I treaded carefully so I didn’t make any noise, then glanced up ahead to see that he’d rolled the sleeves of his sweater up to his elbows, and I wanted to just do away with my shirt because it was so hot and muggy. Not my favorite weather in the least; I’d much rather be in my air-conditioned room right now.

His hands were big for his size, with surprisingly long fingers. Did he play piano?

He paused, staring ahead at something, then stepped off the path.

Where was he even going?

With an exasperated sigh, I picked up my pace and followed after him.

3

FROM THE FIRST DAY I MET YOU, YOU WERE LIKE A POISON

REESE

Iexpected Ashbrook to be another Tagerton, with modernized buildings that had no personality. Instead, it looked like something built in the seventeenth century—and for all I knew, maybe it was.

It was kind of neat.

I’d shelled out a couple days’ worth of food money to take a taxi over this morning because there wasn’t any way to walk here from New Haven. I was pissed about that, but it was what it was. When I’d arrived, I’d spoken with someone who’d given me my dorm assignment and room key and told me to come back for a full rundown once I’d gotten settled in.

My roommate wasn’t there, so I’d just dropped my stuff off and gone exploring.

A quirky but kind older faculty member who’d given me a run-through of the entire campus told me there was a cemetery just past the woods, so that’s where I was headed.

I didn’t care about socializing and making friends; I had two more semesters left, and then I’d be done with this for good. I could move on with my life and do whatever the fuck I wanted. Iwouldn’t have to feel obligated to keep chasing a dream that had died a long time ago.