in both directions, like I’m about to tell them a secret, I add, “Years from now, they’re going to be the ones who suffer. Karma will come back to bite them all in the ass.”
Now, Karsyn’s face has taken on a green hue, while Emmett throws his head back in laughter. And Mariabella, sweet, innocent Mariabella, appears even more upset, her delicate brows cinched together.
“I’m so sorry, Peony. I had no idea.”
I wonder if that’s true—if her younger self truly lived a life of blissful obliviousness. But how could she not see the constant torture those boys put me through? How could she not notice that I was falling apart at the seams? That I was the one girl who never joined the cafeteria, in fear of what the guys would do to me?
Maybe she’s lived her life in a perfect, little bubble, surrounded by perfect, little people, but that doesn’t excuse her ignorance. If you see what’s happening and choose not to say or do anything, you’re just as bad as those who actually act on their twisted desires.
“Oh, shit.” I glance down at my phone, arranging my expression into one of abject horror. They don’t have to know that my phone is still currently off. “I need to get to my next class.”
“What do you have?” Mariabella asks eagerly.
“AP Literature with Mrs. Town,” I reply, and her face falls instantly.
“Oh. I have that sixth hour. But don’t you have that class, Karsyn?” She turns towards her boyfriend, who looks as if he wishes to be anywhere else. I bet he regrets coming to talk to me in the first place.
Asshole.
At Karsyn’s stilted nod, Mariabella’s smile returns, illuminating her elfin face. She’s pretty all of the time, but when she smiles, she transforms into something radiant and ethereal. She sort of reminds me of an angel you would see depicted on a stained glass window in church. There’s an otherworldliness about her golden hair haloing her cherubic face and her light brown eyes, brimming with an inner purity that’s absent in most teenagers.
I really, really don’t want to hurt this girl.
But aren’t there always casualties in war?
I just need to decide if I’m depraved enough to make her one.
“I have Calculus next period,” Emmett grumbles, effectively pulling me out of my inner musings.
Smirking, I rise from my seat and sling my backpack over my shoulder. “Ha. Loser. I tested out of that.”
“Oh, you bitch.” Emmett sticks his tongue out to show me that he’s teasing.
Mariabella’s smile curls downwards as she glances suspiciously between the two of us. After a moment, she shakes out her blonde curls and offers another tentative smile, almost like a peace offering.
“Maybe Kars can walk you to class?” Though she words it as a suggestion, her tone brooks no room for argument.
“Maybe,” I reply evasively. Before she can press the issue, I wave goodbye and head in the direction of my next class.
Chapter 7
Karsyn is a fucking bee.
You know the type—it flits around your head aimlessly, occasionally emanating a buzzing noise, but you’re too afraid to swat at it in case it’ll sting you.
As I walk to my fourth hour, I’m keenly aware of Karsyn nipping at my heels, but instead of a besotted puppy, I get an enraged, feral, ferocious mutt. More than once, he says my name, but I ignore him.
What can he possibly have to say to me?
Sorry?
It’s a few years too late for that, though I doubt the thought of apologizing ever crossed his mind. More than likely, he wants to reprimand me for returning to school after he explicitly told me I could never, not fucking ever, come back. They thought they got rid of the trash once and for all.
By the time I enter the AP Literature classroom, located opposite the cafeteria, Karsyn has resorted to disgruntled huffs and hisses, his scowl firmly etched into place.
Surprisingly, Cassian beat me to class and currently sits near the front of the classroom. That surprises me. He seems more like the back-of-the-class-to-nap type of dude. His eyes narrow when he catches sight of me, and his lips protrude into something that resembles a pout. Oh. My. God. The great Cassian Jereome is pouting like a petulant child.
I can feel his eyes on me like the caress of a spring breeze as I purposely sit in the seat directly behind him. This way, I can keep my eyes on him the entire class period, but he can only stare at me if he