hear Karsyn’s throaty chuckle. The large, beautiful man plants a tender kiss to Mariabella’s forehead before the two of them separate, heading to their respective third hour classes.
But seeing them together…
Seeing them happy…
It only fuels my blistering rage. Why should he have everything he ever wanted, while I have nothing? How is that fair? Why does the universe have such a sick sense of humor?
I planned to start with Karsyn’s football career, but maybe I’m going about this all wrong. Maybe I need to hit him where it actually hurts.
As I stare at Mariabella’s retreating back, an idea forms, and I can’t stop the demented smile from cleaving my face in two.
Keep your friends close, but your enemies even closer.
Chapter 5
There’s no Elias in third period, though I’m not surprised. My sources told me that he never arrives at school earlier than lunchtime. How he expects to graduate remains a mystery, but I can’t find it within me to give any semblance of a damn.
As I slide into a seat near the front of the classroom, my phone pings once. And then twice. And then three then four then five more times. Only one person would have the gall to incessantly message me in the middle of the school day.
Glancing at the front of the room and ensuring that Mr. Milk is still preoccupied talking through an assignment with a group of students, I pull my phone out of my backpack and glare down at the offending texts.
Mom: Hey! The very least you could’ve done was clean your bedroom completely.
Mom: There are crumbs everywhere!!! Did you even vacuum?
Mom: This is just like you. So disrespectful.
Mom: I told you to take everything.
Mom: I hired a cleaner. Anything of yours, I gave her permission to throw away.
Mom: I’m converting your bedroom into a tanning salon. I’ll send pictures! XOXO
Growling, I switch my phone off and shove it face down onto my desk. How to describe my mom…
Well…
She’s a fucking bitch who kicked her only daughter out because she’s a jealous cunt and terrified that my magic will surpass hers. I always knew I was special. From the very first moment I could conjure up a ball of light, years ahead of my classmates, the coven whispered about me and the plans Mom must have. They thought I was going to take over the coven when Mom eventually retired. But Mommy Dearest? She had other ideas.
The main one being, she’ll never retire.
I’m sure if it wasn’t frowned upon—wasn’t a punishable offense—she would turn into a Blood in order to retain her status as coven leader. But alas, most of the Bloods are hunted down only days after their transitions.
“Why the long face?” Emmett slides into the seat beside mine, flashing me an easy-going smile.
Instead of answering, I merely release an agonized groan and drop my head into my arms where they rest on my desk. He chuckles in understanding.
“The parents?”
“The mom,” I correct. “She’s killing me.”
He snorts as he removes his APUSH textbook from his backpack and sets it on the flimsy wooden desk.
“I feel that. My mom texts me daily just to bitch about something that happened years ago. I can never make that woman happy.” He scrubs at his clenched jaw as irritation ripples through him like waves.
“Three cheers for shitty parents?” I ask, not bothering to raise my head. Emmett chuckles darkly.
Class is grueling. And by grueling, I mean that the lesson is slower than molasses and the teacher’s monotonous voice makes me want to stab someone. Preferably myself.
By the time he dismisses us, a full minute after the bell already rang, I’m seriously contemplating dropping the class. It would screw up my plans, especially since Elias is supposed to be in this hour with me, but if I have to hear Mr. Milk’s growly voice for one more fucking minute…
“You have lunch now?” Emmett queries as he waits for me to pack up my stuff. I shove the heavy textbook into my backpack before sliding my phone into my back pocket.
“Yeah. You?”
“Yuppers.” He rubs his toned stomach enthusiastically. “Ain’t nothing better than greasy pizza to start your day, am I right?”
I want to snort at his dramatics, but honestly, the man has a point. The timeline of this high school is ridiculous. It’s only ten-fifty, and already, we have to eat lunch.
Emmett chats about everything and absolutely nothing as we follow the throng of students towards the cafeteria. He half reminds me of a verbal freight train, charging head