was the reason Bishop and the others had been sent here in the first place. And it only made me more certain that getting him to focus on that instead of me had been the right decision. They didn’t need or want my help—unless I spotted another searchlight. If that happened, I’d let them know immediately. Beyond that? I needed to stay out of their hair.
And that was exactly what I would do. Here in class.
“You okay?” I couldn’t help but ask, glancing over my shoulder at Colin when I sat down.
“Never better,” he replied through clenched teeth.
“Somehow I just don’t believe you.”
His eyes were narrowed, mean. “Oh, Sam. You always could read me like a book. You’re so awesome.”
“Whatever.” I turned back around, my heart sinking. So I guess he’d decided to start hating me again.
It should make me happy that he’d finally learned his lesson. Stay away from Samantha Day. Still, his unexpected sarcasm felt like a slap.
He groaned a few moments later. “I’m sorry. I’m having a lousy day, okay?”
“Yeah, okay. Like I said, whatever.”
I didn’t want him to change his mind. I wanted him to hate me. That would make everything much easier.
Mr. Saunders walked into class right on time and glanced at the thirty students. He pushed his glasses up on his nose. “I finished grading your tests from yesterday. Congrats to those with the highest scores. For the rest of you...well, better luck next time.”
Right. Our test on Catcher in the Rye. Part of me relaxed at hearing he’d been grading. Grades. School. And especially English, my favorite subject. They calmed me. I read everything I could get my hands on—novels, new and old, trashy and high literature. I devoured words like I devoured...
Well, not a good comparison, really.
But I loved to read. I loved how authors put words together on the page to invoke images and feelings. While I hadn’t totally decided what I wanted to major in once I got to university—and I still hadn’t given up hope of this possibility, no matter how bleak things got—I felt strongly that I wanted to be a writer of some kind. I’d always journaled. I’d always written short stories and poems to entertain myself.
They say to do what you love and you’ll never work a day in your life.
For me, English Lit was what I loved. By far, my best subject in school.
“Ms. Day?” Mr. Saunders called my name and I rose from my desk to go to the front to claim my test. He held it out to me. “Have to say, I was disappointed.”
I looked down at it.
A bright red “F” stared back at me.
There wasn’t even a plus sign involved.
There had to be a mistake. “I got a—an F?”
“Maybe next time you should read your assignment. Just a suggestion.” He looked past me. “Mr. Edwards?”
With that, I was dismissed. With the first F I’d ever gotten in my life. For an essay on a book I’d already read. And loved.
This couldn’t be happening. I tried to rationalize it, but failed.
Yeah, failed. I failed. Big time.
I sat down heavily in my seat, still staring at the mark.
“It’s only one stupid test,” Colin offered from behind me. Of course he’d seen the grade. It was impossible to miss. An airplane would be able to spot an F that big and red.
But it wasn’t just a test, it was a sign. The balance I’d hoped to regain by coming to school today, to get back to where I belonged and felt like I fit in...
Fail.
I tried to concentrate, but it wasn’t an easy task. With Colin behind me, almost in the orbit of hunger. With others moving past my desk. With the bitter taste of the bad grade in my mouth...it all fell apart.
At nine forty-five, my hunger ramped up from a low and controllable level to a burst right off the charts.
It closed in all around me, stealing my breath, clenching my stomach.
It was no longer a question of “if” I’d feed, but “when.”
I needed to get out of there as fast as I could.
Scrambling to grab my books and my leather bag, I rushed out of my seat toward the front of class, toward the door, toward escape.
“Ms. Day?” Mr. Saunders looked at me as I zipped past him. “Where are you going? There’s still fifteen minutes left in class.”
“Cramps!” I announced shakily. “Horrible, nasty menstrual cramps! I need to go!”
He grimaced and waved a hand, while some of the kids in