seems to physically radiate vibrant light. Her blonde hair has been freshly washed after this morning’s workout, hanging in silky, loose curls around her shoulders. She wears a pink sweater that slides off of one shoulder, revealing her porcelain skin. Cognac brown eyes peer back at me beneath a fleet of sooty, ridiculously dark lashes.
I expect to see derision in her gaze, maybe even annoyance at my blatant ogling, but instead, she straightens almost imperceptibly in her seat and smiles at me. It’s a…warm smile, one that emanates sincerity. It somehow demotes her from intimidating to approachable.
At the same time, I can’t help but wonder why someone like her would date someone like Karsyn Alder.
Gag.
“Hi!” Her voice is slightly higher pitched than even Ms. Auperlee’s, but it doesn’t bother me. There’s almost a musical quality to it that I can’t help but find endearing. “You must be new. I’m Mariabella.”
“Peony,” I greet with a timid nod. I have the irresistible urge to bite down on my lower lip and fidget, almost like I’m back in middle school again. But fuck, I’m not that forlorn child anymore. I’m a badass fucking witch, and I don’t fidget.
But a part of me, a part that I don’t think will ever diminish completely, expects her to pour her coffee over my head and then laugh at me like it’s my fault.
“Why don’t you do the world a favor and drop dead?” Cassian’s voice curled around me like an iron vise, gradually tightening until I was clawing at my throat, desperate for air.
“What a loser,” Karsyn agreed with his customary smirk.
“A freak.” Lucas’s face was as impassive as ever, as cold as a marble statue. There was no inflection in his cruel words. “She’s nothing but a freak.”
“…excited to show you.” Mariabella’s babbling pulls me out of my dark thoughts. They continually threaten to drag me under, almost as if I’d gotten stuck in a riptide. Farther and farther away from shore I am pulled, and no amount of kicking and screaming and begging for air will release me.
“I believe you’re in my seat,” a voice from directly above me states. I whip my head up, startled, only to minutely relax when I see an unfamiliar, friendly face. For a moment there, I thought he was one of the guys. One of my tormentors. One of the monsters who lurk under my bed at night, gripping at my ankles with curved claws and jaundice eyes.
The guy slides into the seat beside me, maintaining that flirtatious, easy-going grin.
“I’m Emmett,” he introduces, extending a hand. I eye the proffered limb warily, half expecting this to be a trick. I’ll be the first to admit that I’m fucking paranoid. Everyone has an angle, and I’ll only survive if I figure out what that angle is ahead of time. So far, no one at school has recognized me, but that won’t last. Sooner or later, the vultures will descend on my disgusting corpse, pecking away at what little remains of me.
“Peony.” Relenting, I place my hand in his, surprised by how cold it is. Goosebumps pebble on my skin as I look at Emmett, really look at him, for the first time.
It’s easy to see that he’s a jock. Probably on the football team with Karsyn, judging by the letterman jacket covering his shoulders. He exudes a charm and charisma that most women find irresistible. Sandy blond hair, stylishly molded into a fauxhawk, frames a face that could make angels weep. When he smiles, I can’t help but notice the dimple on both of his cheeks. Laugh lines surround his jade eyes, almost the color I would associate with a magnificent jungle.
He really is a looker, and if the slightly smug glint in those gorgeous eyes is any indication, he knows it.
“That’s a flower, right?” Mariabella interjects.
“Yeah, how do you know?” Most people merely believe it’s a strange name my hippy mother picked out. Well, it is a strange name my mother picked out, but she’s no hippy. That title is reserved for my grandmother.
“I want to be a botanist, actually,” she confesses with a sheepish shrug. Almost nervously, she begins to twirl a piece of hair around her finger. “Plants and stuff.”
“We know what a botanist is, Mar,” Emmett jests dryly, and she sticks out her tongue at him.
One glance at the clock confirms we still have a few minutes until class begins. Already, the seats are three-quarters full, with more and more students trickling in. I don’t