Devils' Day Party: A High School Bully Romance - C.M. Stunich Page 0,127

to ring any bells.

Even the staff forgets my name sometimes. How nice.

But …

I glance over my shoulder to see that Raz is still watching me.

He never forgets me, not even for a second.

“Of course,” Mr. Aldrich says, leading me inside and down the hall. He takes me to the classroom where the Devils' Day Committee has set up shop.

They've pushed together several desks and covered them with glittery black tablecloths. A banner hangs across the front with the slogan Be Somebody's Little Devil, Send a Gift. According to the sign, all the profits are being donated to Ditch the Label, an anti-bullying charity.

How … ironic.

I mean, considering the cadre of people sitting behind those desks, hawking their wares. I don't know any of their names, but I recognize them—the demon-masked girls are there, along with the monster-masked boys who helped them lock me, April, and Luke in the cave. And then there’s that girl from the first day, with the raven hair and ice-blue eyes. What did Calix say her name was? Erina Cheney?

He seemed to think she might be the one who posted the video.

I gnaw on my lower lip in thought, hesitating in the doorway long enough that Erina looks up from behind her leaf-mask and catches me staring at her.

“Can I help you?” she asks, her voice sharp enough to cut. I move forward, pausing in front of the makeshift table.

The tablecloth is covered with treasures: quartz crystals, tourmaline bracelets, suncatchers strung with an entire rainbow's worth of gems. There are cupcakes on a separate desk, sitting beside containers with fresh biscuits and little tubs of chocolate gravy. Directly in front of me, I see an array of insects trapped in shadow boxes, sealed into resin coffins and strung with chains, or mounted on the ends of branches and tied together in macabre bouquets.

I pick up the insect bouquet, marveling at the craftsmanship that must've gone into it.

I'll admit: I'm impressed.

“Do you know Calix Knight?” I ask casually, lifting my eyes up to meet Erina’s. The bouquet has real roses mixed in, and even though I'm burying my face in a sea of dead insects, I drop my nose to the flowers and breathe in their sweet scent.

If this time loop crap has taught me anything, it's that I need to stop and smell the fucking roses. Literally. Even if—no, especially if—they’re surrounded by invasive pests.

Erina scowls at me, but she can't really get around answering that question, now can she? I've seen her with Calix, even in the span of my repeated days. The last distinct memory I have is of her hanging off his arm, the night where I got drunk and Luke ended up … Well, never mind that bit.

“Of course I know Calix Knight. Only an idiot would pretend they didn't. What do you care?”

“I want you to send this to him,” I say, holding out the bouquet. It's the most interesting item on the table, and while I'm not sure he'll fully appreciate, I … My hand shakes as I hold onto the bouquet, my mind spiraling into despair as I remember how close I got to winning this thing, how I made Calix mine, how I saw the fucking sunrise. “And then I want one of these sent to Barron Farrar.” I drop the bouquet in front of Erina, so she can ring it up, and then add a necklace to my order. It might not be a Diana fritillary butterfly in there—just one of those awful gypsy moths—but it's the thought that counts.

Erina's nostrils flare as she snatches an iPad from the table and starts punching in numbers. Mr. Aldrich sits behind her, sipping on a Styrofoam cup filled with coffee, and monitoring the proceedings with an expression stuck somewhere between pride and complete and total boredom.

“And this.” I grab a beautiful stone cut into the shape of a heart. It's about the size of my palm, nice and cool, and made from beautiful teal amazonite. “This I want sent to Pearl Boehringer.”

Erina actually stops typing to look up at me, narrowing her blue eyes in suspicion.

“You want to send a heart to Pearl Boehringer?” she asks, like I'm the stupidest human being to ever live. “Why? Do you think that bitch likes you anymore than the Knight Crew does? Or is this your pathetic attempt at charity?”

“Does it matter what I'm doing?” I ask, frowning hard and clenching my hands into fists at my sides. “Just put my order